BOSSY: A Virgin CEO Romance

by Jess Bentley

  My mouth drops and I whip my head to the side to glare at him. “It isn’t a childish need for revenge. I can’t share my body with someone I don’t trust.”

  Jayson scowls. “Fine, Harper. If we are to return to our previous arrangement, don’t expect me to wait at home for scraps of affection.”

  “I’m sure you can find what you need elsewhere,” I retort coldly, though my heart tears into pieces at the thought of him with another woman. Yet I can’t have it both ways. It’s devastating to imagine him with a mistress, but I’m too hurt to be his wife.

  The next few years stretch before me, a wasteland of emptiness. While I can’t regret conceiving a child, I fervently wish it is with a man who loves me as much as I love Jayson. In my heart, I want no other man but him, but without trust, what future could we have?

  13

  Harper

  The next few weeks are a haze. I’m going through the motions of everyday activities without feeling anything at all. No, that’s not exactly true. I’m terrified of the future. I’m also terrified of my physical reaction to Jayson. Whenever he’s near, I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not going to touch him.

  Because it’s all I want to do.

  Am I refusing to have sex to punish him? Or am I just punishing myself? I didn’t think I was that petty. It’s difficult to look at Jayson without remembering the sharp agony of discovering the true reason for our marriage. That agony has faded to a duller, constant ache, but being near him is still torture.

  To want him at the same time? It’s crazy.

  At least Jayson seems to have dropped the idea of Sophie marrying Loukas. Tension remains between them, but it looks as if they’ve declared a tentative truce. Sophie is due to depart for college next week. She decided to go earlier than she originally planned, since we ended the vacation so abruptly. I suspect she’s probably escaping before Jayson changes his mind.

  If only I could escape so easily. The atmosphere is stifling. It makes me want to run screaming from the house, though that wouldn’t solve anything. Until the baby is older, I’m trapped in a loveless marriage with Jayson.

  It depresses me to visualize another few years of an empty relationship, let alone a lifetime. At least before we went to bed together, I convinced myself I didn’t love him any longer. I also had Sophie as a focus of my attention. What will I do with myself from the time Sophie leaves until the baby comes?

  In truth, I’ve started to look forward to having the baby, but it’s difficult to muster enthusiasm when I’m feeling so low.

  The next few days drift by, and I’m lost in my own thoughts. Once Sophie leaves the household in a week, I’m even more lost and lonely, but can’t reach out to Jayson. He would likely offer comfort—and perhaps suggest we try to build a real marriage again—but I can’t risk exposing myself to more pain.

  A few days later with Sophie gone, I’m in in the study, attempting to focus my attention on a natural health pregnancy book. It’s one of a stack I discovered on the table near Jayson’s desk. Jayson’s the only one who could have purchased the books, since it’s unlikely one of the housemaids or the cook would have bought them. It touches my heart that he is so involved with the pregnancy, and yet it’s confusing. How can he be so thoughtful, and such a liar at the same time?

  The door opens, but I don’t look up. I’m sure it’s one of the maids. Jayson left for the office hours ago, and he’s coming home later and later each evening. I can’t help wondering if he’s found a mistress to fulfill his needs. It shouldn’t hurt if he has. So why can I barely breathe when imagining it?

  As the door closes I look up, alerted to his presence through some subtle sixth sense I’ve developed when it comes to him. “Hello.” How difficult it is to get out the simple greeting and keep my voice neutral.

  “Hello.” He casts a glance at the books on the table, along with the one on my lap, looking sheepish. “It’s probably too early to buy those…”

  I manage a small smile. “I guess you can’t start preparing for this kind of thing too early.”

  He nods. “Do you have a moment?”

  I hesitate. “Why?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  I bite my lip, and consider refusing. Without a good reason, turning him down would be childish. I don’t want to punish him by behaving like that. It’s in both our interests to achieve, and maintain, a decent relationship since we will be raising a child together. “Sure.” Taking time to fold the corner of the page that I’ve reread several times without absorbing any information, I set the book on the cushion beside me. He looks poised to assist me when I get to my feet, but I step away before he can touch me with the hand he seems to have raised only through instinct.

  He sighs audibly, but says nothing about it. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” I answer, slightly aloof, as I walk beside him. When we take the stairs, I tense up. Is he planning to steer me into the master suite? Will he try to persuade me to have sex?

  Will I let him?

  Breathing a slight sigh of relief, I try to ignore a twinge of disappointment when we bypass the bedroom. Is he going to surprise me with a renovated room, turned into a nursery? My lips twitch. If so, he’s certainly being proactive, since I’m not quite eight weeks along yet.

  Instead, he leads me farther down the hallway, to the door with roof access. Intrigued, I climb up the flight of stairs, wondering what he wants to show me on the roof.

  We emerge into the sweltering heat and I shield my eyes from the sun. “Are we going for a swim?” I ask lightly, as we walk toward the pool.

  “No.” He walks past the pool and lounge chairs around it. When Jayson moves slightly, I catch sight of a white building that wasn’t here before, and my heart skips a beat. I stop beside him when he comes to a halt.

  “Is that a greenhouse?”

  Jayson nods. “The workers set up everything this morning.” He gestures to the area beside it, where someone’s built raised gardening beds and filled them with rich soil.

  I blink, speechless for a long moment. “Why?” I finally ask.

  He turns to face me. “I want you to be happy, Harper. You told me you missed gardening during the time we’ve been married. I want you to have it back again.”

  My eyes blur and I blink back tears. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  He pushes the hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Say you’ll be happy here, with me.” Jayson pauses before adding, “Or say you’ll at least try to be happy. Seeing you mope around hurts me inside, agape mou.”

  I meet his gaze and the air around us crackles with anticipation. “Why does it hurt you? My sadness won’t hurt the baby.”

  Jayson runs a rough hand through his hair, betraying his frustration. “Not everything is about the baby. You are my wife, and I hate seeing you act like a prisoner serving a life sentence.”

  Closing my eyes, I struggle to form a reply. “I’m doing the best I can.” His gaze is still locked on mine when I look up. “I can’t promise you anything, except I will stay until the baby is older. I don’t know if I can be happy with you.”

  He jerks away, starting to pace. “You were happy on Trini Island. We were happy. Can’t we go back there?” Jayson stops in front of me, his expression a mixture of frustration and earnestness.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Or isn’t.”

  14

  Jayson

  “This is real.” I pull her into my arms, holding her still when she attempts to pull free. I can feel myself relax as I hold her tight, and soon she does too. She doesn’t try to get away when I lower my head to kiss her.

  I kiss her gently, coaxing her mouth open to slip my tongue inside. Sure, anger prompted the kiss, but the soft strokes are becoming persuasive, not punishing.

  With a moan, Harper threads her fingers through my hair, holding my mouth against hers. I’m sure part of her wants to stop. But I want her too
much.

  Cupping her breast, I gently thumb her hardening nipple. She inhales audibly and I immediately stop. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes, a little, but in a good way.” A blush reddens her cheeks. Her heart is beating fast.

  “I want to make love to you, Harper.”

  She touches the tip of her tongue to moisten her lips, watching my eyes follow the movement. “Are there strings attached to your gift?”

  My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “The garden is yours to do with as you wish. I wanted to make you happy, not try to force you into something you clearly find distasteful.”

  As I step away, Harper moves forward, pressing her hand to my chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She rests her forehead against my shoulder. “I don’t trust you, Jayson,” she says into my chest, “and I’m not sure what you want, or why you wanted to stay married, but I know you wouldn’t force me into your bed.”

  Harper gasps when I wrap my arms around her once more, pulling her so tightly against me that it’s almost uncomfortable. The hard shaft of my desire presses into her belly, and she moves her hand slowly down my body to caress me.

  I growl, shaking my head. “No.”

  “I thought you wanted this?”

  “I do, agape mou, but not on the roof. I want you in my bed, where I’ve dreamed of having you since we got home.”

  Harper takes the hand I extend and walks with me back into the house. She casts a glance over her shoulder as we enter the room and I want her even more.

  We both forget about the garden as I press up against her, her new curves feeling incredible against my angles and hardness. The bedroom door closes with a resounding thud when I kick it shut, my hands too busy tugging at her clothes.

  She pulls my clothes from my body with just as much determination. When we’re naked, I lift her onto the bed, coming down on top of her. My touch ignites a firestorm in both of us that’s been pent up for the last weeks. The heat seems like it will consume us as we spend the next few hours kissing and touching, stroking and exploring.

  Afterward, she lies beside me, completely spent. Kissing her lightly, I lay my palm across her stomach. “You are so sexy to me, with my child growing inside you.”

  Harper’s lips curve slightly. “I’ll bet you won’t say that in a few months. I’ll be huge.”

  “You could be the size of a house and still be beautiful.” I lower my head to kiss the soft skin above her hand. “And sexy.”

  She can’t suppress a giggle when my lips tickle her. “I doubt that, but I’ll pretend like it’s true.”

  “No more pretending.” My expression turns serious. “We have to talk, about everything.” I stop. How to discuss all this? “I need to tell you…”

  Harper puts her finger against my lips. “Hold that thought. I hate to be indelicate, but I have to… you know.” She waves in the direction of the en suite bathroom.

  I shake my head, amused. “I am trying to pour my heart out to you, woman.”

  The moment stretches, the silence lengthening. Harper seems to want to hear what I’m going to say next, but finally she sits up. Separating from her is almost physically painful. I wonder how I made it almost three weeks without making love with Harper despite all the turmoil.

  She hurries to the bathroom, and I hope she finishes as quickly as possible. Then she appears at the door. Her thighs are slick with redness, and she’s frowning. Looking down, we both are frozen for a moment at the blood. My heart forgets how to beat as we stare at the blood on her legs and hand. I’m frozen as my mind processes the implications.

  Eventually, I break the paralysis and rush to her, pausing only long enough to grab a robe for her.

  “I’m bleeding,” she says, eyes wide.

  When I take her into my arms, tears well, and she sobs quietly.

  Rubbing her back, I try to calm her. “Don’t cry. That was pretty intense, what we did, Harper. There might not even be a problem.”

  She swallows hard, managing a shaky nod. “Maybe.”

  “Let me get dressed, and I’ll take you to the hospital, just to make sure. We’ll rule everything out.”

  She nods again. “Yes, it’s the sensible decision, but I don’t want to go. If there’s a problem, the hospital will discover it.”

  “And they’ll sort it out, and we’ll do everything that needs to be done.” If she’s losing the baby, I don’t know what we’ll do. She cups her stomach, and I place my hands over hers, desperate to protect our unborn child.

  The ride to the hospital is a blur. We take the BMW instead of waiting for the limousine or an ambulance. She closes her eyes for most of the trip as I speed through traffic, negotiating my way through confidently, but at breakneck speed.

  I leave the car idling in front of the emergency department entrance. Getting a ticket or the vehicle towed is the least of my problems. Harper leans against me when I put my arm around her, and I hope she’s drawing strength from my support.

  The waiting room has only a few people waiting, much to my relief. I check her in while she curls into a chair, hugging herself and with a face that looks as if she’s trying not to cry. She’s still in the robe, and she looks very vulnerable.

  When I return to her, I sit in the next chair, and we wait. “How are you feeling?” I ask her.

  “My stomach is fluttering and I’m getting some cramps.” By the time a nurse takes us back to a room, I’m quite sure that neither of us are feeling optimistic about the baby’s chances.

  Dr. Anderson enters the room a few minutes later. “I called her,” I tell Harper, noticing her surprise.

  Dr. Anderson performs an exam as she asks Harper questions. A few moments later, she sits on a stool by Harper’s bed. “Your cervix is still closed, so that’s a good sign. I want to get an ultrasound. The technician will bring in a portable machine as soon as he’s free.”

  “He had better be free quickly,” I say, with a hint of steel.

  The stool squeaks when the doctor stands up. “I’ll see what I can do to hurry the process, Mr. Satyros.”

  When she leaves the room, Harper manages a feeble smile. “You’re shameless, trying to intimidate them into preferential treatment.” I manage a little smile back.

  “What good is it to be a captain of industry if I cannot use my position for a few favors?”

  She starts to laugh, but a sob emerges instead. I rush to her, lying beside her on the narrow bed and taking her into my arms. “I’m so scared, Jayson.”

  “As am I, agape mou.” I squeeze her gently before saying, “I am a selfish bastard.”

  Harper turns her head to look at me. “What?”

  “Our child is in danger, and all I can think of is that you’ll leave me if you lose the baby.” I study her intently. “Promise me you won’t leave, even if the baby is… gone.”

  Harper sighs. “I can’t do this right now, Jayson. I can’t promise anything. I can’t even think clearly. I just need to know he’s okay.”

  After a second, I nod, drawing her close again. “Of course. I told you I am a selfish bastard.”

  She shakes her head against my shoulder. “No. You have done some things that might be wrong, but I don’t doubt you did them for reasons you believed justified the end results. You had to protect Sophie and the company. It’s her inheritance.”

  “Harper—”

  The arrival of an ultrasound technician interrupts anything I might say. He gives a frown of disapproval at seeing me in the bed with Harper, but at least he has the good sense not to say anything.

  The cold gel makes her wince when he squirts it on her stomach a couple of minutes later, and I want to yell at him. “I hope we can get this abdominally,” comments the technician. “The other way isn’t pleasant.” Harper winces again.

  Fortunately, the man gets a clear picture and spends a few minutes looking at the screen, not uttering a word. I can’t even discern where the baby is, so I know nothing more when the man leaves to ge
t the obstetrician.

  The wait is interminable, though Dr. Anderson can’t have taken more than five minutes to arrive. Without speaking, she also performs an ultrasound. Harper studies the doctor’s face, but her expression is impassive.

  Finally, Dr. Anderson puts away the probe and scoots the stool closer. “I’m sorry, Harper, but the baby stopped growing a couple of weeks ago.”

  She shakes her head. “No. I still feel pregnant. I’ve had morning sickness, afternoon sickness, and fatigue.”

  Dr. Anderson seems genuinely sad. “The baby is gone. Your body just doesn’t know it yet.”

  I take her hand when the doctor finishes speaking. “What happens now?” I ask.

  “I can admit you to the hospital overnight for a D and C in the morning, or you can take medication at home to induce the miscarriage.”

  “No. I couldn’t bear the thought of that. I don’t want to have to know, have to feel it.” I understand.

  “Okay.” Dr. Anderson makes a notation on the computer before turning to me. “We’ll do the procedure around nine in the morning, and you should be able to pick her up by two.”

  My mouth tenses. “I’m not leaving her.”

  She doesn’t try to argue with me. “I’ll get you two into a room as quickly as possible.”

  Late the next afternoon, Harper clings to my arm as I lead her into the apartment building from the parking garage. The anesthetic has left her woozy, but it hasn’t dulled the emotional pain. Tears are intermittently streaming down her face. The elevator ferries us to our floor, and I open the door with my key rather than waiting for a maid to open it.

  As she crosses the threshold, tears slip from her eyes. “It’s unbelievable that I was pregnant the last time I stood here.” The tears intensify.

  I don’t try to get her to stop crying—I merely lift her, carrying her to our room. Putting her down briefly, I open the door before taking her to my bed. Harper curls into a ball of misery, curving into me when I lie beside her, holding her as she weeps.