OVULATED: Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Snow Novels

  "Stop it," I said, putting a protective hand over my eyes.

  "Don't think so. I've decided the only way to motivate you is to start harassing you. It'll be good for you. You'll thank me later." She smiled and a fresh bit of Friskies sailed passed my ear.

  "I don't like living here either. I'd move tonight if I could, only..." Only I had nowhere else to go. Everyone I knew was back home in Bridgeport and I hadn't made one friend since moving here. Where can a broke twenty-two-year-old go in New York, unless I wanted to find a cozy bench down in Central Park. I wasn't sure that was such a bad idea, actually. One more night with Emma and I might lose my mind.

  "You know what the problem is, don't you?" asked Emma.

  I knew where this was going. She'd made my weight into something of a daily reprimand. "You're fat," she said. "New York producers don't hire fat women to be the star in their new Broadway musical."

  "But I can sing better than any of them," I pleaded.

  She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't matter. Unless you do something about your body you won't even get a part as a chorus girl."

  My eyes drooped and I couldn't help looking myself over. Sometimes I believed Emma, and sometimes I thought that my curvy hips and rounded waist were my most attractive aspects. I had long dark hair, which everybody liked, and creamy skin that almost glowed. My mom had called me Snow White when I was a kid. Then, of course, Emma had arrived and pointed out to everyone that I was far from beautiful.

  Finally, Emma announced she had an audition and lifted Fluffy from her lap. I reached out a hand to pet her and Fluffy hissed at me. Before leaving the room, Emma threw a rolled up newspaper at me. She had graciously circled every want ad in there that she thought me capable of doing. I was amazed she'd found anything, given how little she thought of me.

  I scanned the red circles. Most of them were escort jobs. Haha, joke's on me. All Emma thinks I'm good for is prostitution. There was one ad, however, that caught my eye: CARETAKER, experience not necessary, will train. Must live-in. Emma had underlined that last part.

  It was probably a polite way of saying that whoever had placed the ad was looking for a live-in hooker. I crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash bin. This was getting me nowhere. I laid back on the couch and Fluffy jumped onto my chest.

  "Well hi there," I said, reaching out a hand to stroke her thick white fur. Maybe Fluffy was coming around to me after all.

  Then, before I could stop her, Fluffy squatted like I was a litter box and a warm stream of urine flowed out of her and onto me. I screamed and jumped off the couch, drenched in cat pee. From behind Emma's door I heard her laughing. "Good kitty," she whispered, before letting Fluffy into her room and shutting the door.

  I fought back the tears long enough to uncrumple the want ads I'd tossed aside. Suddenly, a live-in position sounded like my best and only chance to stay in New York.

  Chapter 2

  I exited the subway and walked to a part of New York I'd rarely ever explored. Park Avenue, though beautiful, was filled with the most expensive stores and restaurants in the entire city. The apartment building that dominated the street was huge. It took up the whole block, and I looked up in awe as a low flying cloud passed through the uppermost floor.

  Inside, I was stopped at a security station. They asked for my identification and the purpose of my visit. The guard looked me up and down and I suddenly realized that the jeans and sweatshirt I was wearing were wildly inappropriate. I probably looked like a homeless person. At this point, that wasn't far from the truth.

  When I gave him my name and destination, his attitude changed. "Right this way Miss Greene," he said, and led me to an elevator. "Mr. Sterling doesn't get a lot of visitors. Eighty-eight," he told the elevator man, who pushed a button that brought me to the top floor. I wondered why I couldn't just push the button myself, then envied the man his job.

  When I got off the elevator, the man pointed me to the left, and I realized that this one penthouse apartment dominated the entire top floor. Cameron Sterling must be mega rich.

  I knocked on a cream colored door with gold handles that shined so much I wondered if they weren't made from real gold. A man answered and quickly ushered me inside without asking my name. His face was sour looking and there was a serious air to his demeanor that reminded me of my mother.

  "Hi," I said, terrified, but determined to put on my best performance. "I'm Abbey Greene. I have an interview here today."

  He just stared at me before turning down a long, luxurious hallway. Should I follow him? I stood where I was, floundering, until he turned back to me and said, "Are you coming? Or do you wish to leave already?"

  I ran to catch up. If this was the man I was interviewing for, I was off to a bad start.

  "Sorry," I said. "I wasn't sure—"

  "Wait here. Mr. Sterling will be right in."

  He left me in a room draped in museum pieces. Or at least, they looked like they belonged in a museum. I was reaching out to touch a great wooden jewelry box that sat on top of a table when a man entered wearing a suit and tie. He had deep brown eyes that swam towards me as he walked. His face was handsome and rugged, a five o'clock shadow just hinting at his chin. Even through his clothes, I could tell his body was formed of muscles that I never even knew existed. His chest was wide and his arms were massive. I was surprised he had clothes he could fit into. He held his head high but dragged his feet as he moved, like someone important, but also very tired.

  "Hello," I said, stepping forward with my hand out. "I'm Abbey."

  He stopped and looked me up and down with obvious skepticism. "What is your natural hair color?" he asked.

  I hesitated. Was this a trick? "Er... this one," I said, twirling a thick black tress around my finger.

  "How much do you weigh?"

  "Excuse me?" I asked.

  "I don't like repeating myself," he said. His voice was rough and his eyes darted around the room. Initially, I'd thought he was refined... cultured, but now he paced the floor like he couldn't stand still. It was almost like he was on drugs. "How much do you weigh?" he asked again.

  "None of your business," I said.

  He shook his head and mumbled "impossible," before continuing.

  "Did you have any pets growing up?"

  "What? Yes, two dogs and a—"

  "What do your parents do? Are they living?"

  "My mom is but my dad—"

  "What did you do before coming here?"

  "You mean today? Nothing, I just—"

  He continued to cut me off at every answer until I finally snapped.

  "Listen, I don't care who you are Mr. Sterling—"

  "Cameron."

  I was somehow shocked when he referred to himself by his first name. "Are you sure you want me to call you—"

  "Yes yes, why must I repeat everything with you? Do you have some sort of hearing loss I should know about?"

  "What? No. I just... I just have a few questions. I don't really understand what I'm interviewing for." Especially considering the bizarre questions he'd been asking me.

  "Did you not read the ad? The position is for a caretaker."

  "Yes I know that, but what exactly would I be caring for?"

  Finally, Cameron stopped pacing the room and looked directly at into my eyes. "Why, me, of course."

  I fumbled for words and when they didn't come Cameron called his butler. "James will show you out," he said.

  I moved back through the hall wondering what I was getting myself into. There was no way I'd just gotten the job, but if I had, what exactly was Cameron expecting of me... I wasn't about to sell myself for a warm bed and a few meals. What would my mother think?

  I exited the penthouse with more questions than when I'd arrived.

  Chapter 3

  The waiting area was packed. In the few months I'd been here, I'd learned that Broadway auditions were always packed. And this wasn't even Broadway. This was off-Broadway, but still, a lot of people had gotten thei
r start in places like this. I had sixteen bars from My Fair Lady that I'd prepared and was pacing up and down the floor running the number in my head, mouthing the words to "I Could Have Dance All Night," when Deena strutted in.

  I immediately veered the other way, trying to sidestep her before she could see me, but it was too late. The room we were in wasn't that big. "Abbey!" she shouted, waving and running up to me. She was wearing the customary six inch stilettos she wore to every audition, and her bleached hair bounced high on her head, much like her fake boobs. She was Emma's best friend, and one of her favorite jokes was to see me at auditions and act all friendly, then snub me behind my back, or sometimes to my face. It really depended on her mood.

  "Abbey!" she shouted again. I stopped and turned to her. There was a guy lagging just behind her with dark hair and a sly smile. He looked sort of embarrassed. "Abbey, there you are. Emma told me you might be here. She was so worried about you, you know." Deena's smile was wide and her eyes laughed as the sarcasm dripped from her lips.

  "She said you spent all morning in the bathroom. Diarrhea before every audition is nothing to be ashamed of. You should share your story. It might help others like you." She tilted her head and laughed in my face. "Besides," she said, gasping for air through her hysterics, "it can help you lose weight, and God knows you need all the help you can get." Her body shook with laughter.

  "Deena, not now, okay?" I didn't know why I was pleading when I should have been screaming at her.

  "Oh of course, I'm sorry. The audition room is not the place to discuss your health. But tell me, what happened to that scorching case of herpes you had? Has it cleared up for you?" I heard several snickers and looked up to see people watching us and laughing.

  "Oh, I forgot to introduce you to my friend Richard." She pointed to the dark haired guy that had walked in with her. "Don't worry. He's not interested. He doesn't date girls bigger than size thirty."

  I felt tears prick at my eyes and tried to hold them back. It would only make things worse if Deena saw me cry.

  "Hi," Richard said. His eyes dug into me, sending little shivers up my legs. I attempted a smile, then turned abruptly away and crossed to the opposite side of the room. Deena followed. "Do you need help rehearsing? What song are you doing?"

  I sighed. "I Could Have Dance All Night."

  "Oh my God, you're not really are you? That song is so old. Wait," she gasped, pretending to look shocked. "How old are you Abbey?

  "Twenty-two," I replied, finally picking a spot and standing still. She wasn't going away and trying to run only made me more of a target.

  "Oh my God, are you really? You look so old! Doesn't she look old Richard?"

  She turned to him for confirmation but Richard smiled and said, "I think she's cute."

  Deena's face fell. She looked at me like I'd put some sort of spell on him, then dragged him away by the ear. Seeing Deena's reaction was the only good thing about my day so far. I knew I should ignore her, but the fat jokes rang in my ears.

  Also, this morning Emma had finally given me the ultimatum I'd been hoping to avoid. She told me I had forty-eight hours to get my stuff and get out. If this audition bombed, then I had nowhere else to go except back home, where Mom would never let me hear the end of it.

  My phone rang just then. "Hello?" I asked, holding it to my ear.

  "Ms. Greene?"

  "Yes."

  "This is James, Mr. Sterling's butler. He needs you at his penthouse right away."

  "What? What do you mean? Why?"

  It was that exact moment when the assistant casting director called my name. "Abbey Greene."

  James was still talking. "The job is yours, if you want it."

  My heart soared. Cameron Sterling was weird, but this meant I didn't have to go back to Bridgeport.

  "Great! Thank you! When do you need me to start?"

  "Now," he said.

  "Abbey Greene," the assistant called again.

  "Now? I can't right now. I can be there in a couple of hours."

  "Ms. Greene, either come now, or lose the job."

  My heart sunk.

  "Abbey Greene," the casting director called, "going once, going twice... Next up! Deena Saunders." Deena strutted into the room, almost tripping over her heels, but I wasn't there to see it. I was making my way to Cameron's penthouse apartment.

  Chapter 4

  I got to Cameron's penthouse in just under an hour. This time, the security guard recognized me and let me right though. "Nice to see you again," he smiled as I passed into the elevator. James answered the door when I knocked.

  "Hello Ms. Greene," he said. "Follow me please."

  "Hi," I said. "How's it going Jimmy?" He screwed his eyes together and I made a mental note never to call him that again. "Sorry, James. Er, how's your day going?" He walked along in silence until we got to a set of double doors which he held open for me.

  "Thanks," I said. "For everything." I shot him what I considered my award winning smile.

  "I haven't done anything to thank me for," he replied.

  My smile faltered. I was just trying to make conversation. I wanted him to like me.After all, he was going to be my co-worker, wasn’t he? "So, where's Mr. Sterling? Do I need to sign some paperwork? I brought my social security card."

  James just kept walking, not answering a single question. He was like an infuriating older brother being forced to drag his little sister along with him. "Where are we going?" I asked. "What was so important that I had to get here so fast? I was in the middle of an audition, you know."

  Not one peep sounded from James's lips.

  The penthouse was even bigger than I'd realized the other day. There was actually an upstairs. James led me up the set of swirling white stairs to a long dark hallway. The only dot of light came from a room on the far left. We stopped in front of it and James said, "This is your room."

  "My room?" I gasped when he opened the door. The room looked like it belonged in a museum. It was outlined in deep reds and blacks, with plush carpet that my feet sunk into like a warm bath. Paintings and tapestries covered the walls. I was sure that this one room was worth more than my mother's whole house.

  A white mermaid dress laid on the bed. It was skinny and curvy at the same time,the type of dress you would have seen a movie star wearing back in the golden age of Hollywood. Marilyn Monroe or Ava Gardner would have been seen in a dress like this; I had no idea what it was doing laid out for me.

  "Please dress for dinner,"James said. "Mr. Sterling will join you in the dining room." He starting closing the doors.

  "Wait!" I shouted, running back to him. I put a hand on his arm and squeezed it, trying to elicit a warmer response from him. James was cold and intimidating, but there was also something behind his eyes that made me feel I could trust him. "What's going on here? Is this... Am I safe if I stay here?" I was thinking of a movie I'd seen once about a woman who took a job as a live-in housekeeper, only to find out her employer had a freezer full of decapitated heads.

  James smiled and patted my hand. "You have nothing to fear here. I am always in the house."

  If his response was intended to make me feel better, it failed. He left me alone and I just stood there with my mouth ajar and my feet glued to the floor. Finally, I turned to explore the room. The little girl in me couldn't help but feel I'd won the lottery. There was an adjoining bathroom and I jumped into the soaker tub with my clothes still on, imagining how it would feel to lie in it full of bubbles.

  I wasn't sure why I was imagining anything. I was here. Why not just take a bath if I wanted one? This was my room. I was officially employed here, with a freaking penthouse for my address. "What's mom gonna think of me now?" I asked myself, feeling my lips curve into a sly smile.

  She'll probably think your turning tricks.

  My smile fell into a frown. Good point. I couldn't say anything to anyone until I had more details, like what, precisely, my job here was supposed to be. I climbed out of the tub and sli
pped into the dress. I had a few questions for Mr. Sterling.

  Chapter 5

  After slipping into the dress, I checked myself in the mirror. It was like someone had turned a light on inside of me. The dress shimmered against my skin. My hair looked dark and sexy, and even without freshening my makeup, I felt like a princess. "Snow White," I murmured to myself before descending the stairs.

  I was lucky to find the dining room. The place was bigger than an amusement park.

  "Hello," Cameron said, standing up when I entered the dining room.

  "Hi." Cameron walked across the room and pulled a chair out for me. I blushed and took a seat. "Thank you. And thanks for the dress, though I'm not really sure what I did to deserve it."

  I was hoping my question might prompt some sort of response from him as to my exact duties as caretaker, but all he said was, "You look beautiful." I felt the red deepen in my cheeks and forced myself not to look away from him despite my self-consciousness.

  "I'd like to apologize for my behavior the other day," he said. "I was... I've been under a great deal of strain lately. I know that does not excuse rudeness, but I hope it does explain it."

  I was flattered that Cameron would think enough of me to apologize; most rich guys wouldn't bother. His eyes caught me in their gaze and held me there. I couldn't turn my head from them. They weren't just brown. Flecks of gold and butterscotch caught the light from above and made them seem almost mystical. I licked my lips and felt the heat rising in my chest.

  What is wrong with me?

  I tried to tell my body to calm itself down. I had to stop the creeping thoughts I was having of Cameron and me in each other's arms... his lips pressed against mine. I wondered if they would taste like the wine he poured for me now. His skin was the golden brown of a surfer, and despite the bulk he carried in his chest, he moved like a dancer.

  "We're having a simple dinner tonight. A bit of lobster and baked potato. I hope that's alright?"