by Tia Wylder
To my horror, Pamela tossed her head and giggled. She was all angelic smiles now. “Peter, you have to take me back,” she said. “What do you think your father will say when I call him and tell him that you’ve knocked me up and left me? He’ll take the company away from you before you can say boo,” Pamela added smugly. “You know I’m right.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, turning on my heel and storming out of the restaurant. As I walked into the street, my heart was pounding, and my palms were sweating.
What the hell was I going to do now?
Chapter 11
Honey
I’d only been at work for a few hours when I got a call from an unknown number. Immediately, I panicked – what if it was a debt collector, someone after all the money my father (and I) owed?
“Hello?” I said nervously.
“Hello, I’m calling for Honey Walters.”
“This is she,” I said nervously.
“Hello, dear, this is Evangeline – I’m Mr. Anastas’s secretary.”
“Oh! Hi!”
“Peter sent an email this morning asking if you wouldn’t mind coming in – his lawyers have drawn up the contract,” Evangeline continued. “And if you need it, we can arrange for transportation to and from your office.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. I blinked. I couldn’t believe it – I’d told Peter a little less than twelve hours ago, and he was already setting the plans in action!
“Yes,” Evangeline said. She laughed. “So, are you able to come in today?”
I looked around and bit my lip. It had been a slow morning at Baker – my boss, Nate, was out with a cold and the phones had been quiet for most of the day.
“Sure,” I said. “I could be there in about an hour.”
“Just give me the address of your office, dear, and I’ll send a driver right over,” Evangeline said.
“Is Peter in?”
“Mr. Anastas is out at lunch for the moment,” Evangeline said. “But he left very careful instructions with his lawyer.”
“Oh.” I frowned. I’d somehow thought Peter would be at my side while I looked everything over.
“Mr. Anastas thought it would be helpful for you to go over the paperwork without him,” Evangeline continued. “That way, if you’re unhappy with anything, you can make tentative changes and send it back for approval.”
I blinked. “Okay,” I said. When we hung up, I gathered my things and went to wait outside. Sure enough, barely five minutes had passed before a glossy limousine pulled up to the curb. The driver was unfamiliar, but smiling all the same. He helped me into the backseat – I noticed I drew quite a few looks from passersby on the street – and I settled in, suddenly nervous.
Had I made a mistake in telling Peter I’d marry him and carry his child?
It didn’t take the driver long, even in midday traffic, to arrive at Peter’s building. I gasped when I saw it – the giant logo of his father’s company, Spyros Magnate, was splashed across the glass and steel like a brand. It was a handsome building, with plush carpet and beautiful details at every corner.
No surprise, Peter’s office was quite high up. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, a kindly-looking elderly lady smiled at me.
“Honey?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Evangeline,” she said with a smile. “Come with me, dear.”
I followed Evangeline into a plush conference room with deep leather chairs and an expensive-looking table. Sitting down, I folded my hands nervously in my lap.
Evangeline brought me sparkling water and a sandwich on a croissant that looked delicious, but between my hangover and my nerves, I couldn’t even have a bite.
“This is Mr. Kostas,” Evangeline said. She showed a heavyset man into the room and smiled. He was very well dressed, but his stern facial expression made me feel even more anxious.
“I’m Peter’s lawyer,” Mr. Kostas said. “You can call me Marty.”
I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you have the contract?”
Marty chuckled. “Oh, do I ever,” he said. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs and put his briefcase on the table. Then he handed me a leather-bound document that had to be at least five hundred pages.
“This is it?” I blinked. “This…this is going to take me a long time to read.”
Marty waved his hand in the air. “No rush, kid,” he said. “You’re gonna want someone of your own to look that over. I can only represent Peter.”
I nodded. Settling down with the large contract in my lap, I started flipping through the pages. There, on the first page, was my full name – Honey Elizabeth Aspeth Walters – and Peter’s, done up in fancy scrollwork.
I bit my tongue as I started flipping through the pages. After working for Baker & Sons, I’d gotten pretty good at reading through the legalese and sifting through all the jargon. But this was filled with so many clauses and tenses that I had no idea how I was going to get through it. Sure enough, there was even a section at the end with my requests, including medical coverage, proper care for the child, and a stipend that would more than cover a year of my salary at Baker & Sons.
“Any questions, miss?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly,” I said softly. “But I am going to need to have my own representation. I’m afraid I don’t understand some of this.”
Marty nodded. “Smart girl,” he said. He winked at me, and I felt a touch of disgust. Just as I was about to get to my feet and tuck the contract inside my bag, Peter stormed into the office. He was red in the face and looked angry. When he saw me, his expression seemed to grow even darker.
“Peter?” I asked softly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Get out,” Peter snapped, staring at Marty and pointing to the door. “I need a moment alone with her.”
“Sir, I’m here to represent you,” Marty said. I could tell that he was exasperated.
“I don’t care!” Peter roared. In his anger, his eyes were bluer than ever. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Marty scrambled to his feet and ran out of the conference room. When he was gone, I went to Peter and put my hand on his arm.
“Peter, what’s the matter?” I asked softly. “What’s going on?”
Peter closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His face was wet with perspiration, and there were deep lines in his forehead that I’d never noticed before now.
“Pamela,” Peter said. He shook his head and pulled violently away from me, balling his hands into fists and slamming them down on the conference table.
I blinked. “What happened?” I asked softly. “Peter, tell me! You’re making me nervous!”
Peter turned to me and shook his head. “She’s pregnant, Honey. She’s pregnant, and it might be my kid.”
I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands. I felt like my heart was drying up and shriveling in my chest, like it was withering away to nothing but dust and ash and broken tissue.
“Peter….” I trailed off, biting my lip. Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them away, desperate not to cry in front of him.
“That’s what she says, anyway,” Peter said angrily. “And I can’t do anything with you – nothing! – until I figure out whether or not she’s telling the truth.”
“Peter, I—“
“Honey, stop it!” Peter yelled. A vein bulged at the side of his forehead, and he stormed away from me, standing on the other side of the room and shaking with anger.
That was it. I could no longer keep the tears from falling as I whirled on my heel and ran out of the conference room. Evangeline leapt up from her desk, looking surprised.
“Dear, what’s the matter?” Evangeline called.
I didn’t answer. Tears were streaming down my face as I stormed out of the luxurious office and into the elevator. Thankfully, it was alone. As the doors pinged closed, I wrapped my arms around myself and began to sob. I felt like my heart was breaking.
I knew this was too good to be true, I thought bitterly
as the elevator carried me down to the street. I just knew it!
And the worst thing was, I wasn’t even thinking of the money. I wasn’t thinking of the baby, or how it would feel to take a year off from work.
I was thinking about Peter, and how much I was going to miss him now that all of this was over.
Chapter 12
Peter
I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through the rest of the day. I told Evangeline that I was sick, then called Ryan and asked him to meet me at our favorite bar. Luckily, Ryan didn’t ask any questions.
Half an hour later, we were sitting in a back booth. I was hunched over a beer, gazing sourly into the foamy depths.
“What the hell is going on, man,” Ryan asked. “I’ve never seen you so down.”
I groaned. “Pamela’s pregnant,” I said, launching into the story of my disastrous lunch.
When I was done, Ryan was staring at me with wide eyes. “No fucking way,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s no fucking way she’s knocked up!”
I buried my face in my hands and groaned. “I don’t want to believe it, but she might be telling the truth,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I thought she was on the pill, but what if she was lying?”
“Dude,” Ryan said. “You always need to wrap that shit up!” He pointed through the table at my crotch.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for that helpful tip,” I said sarcastically. “Putting a condom on now is definitely going to help me out of this shit.”
“Man,…” Ryan trailed off. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Neither do I,” I said bitterly. “Other than I just had to give up the girl of my dreams because my crazy ex is a manipulative bitch!”
Ryan frowned. “You should hire someone,” he said.
“Like a lawyer?” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already got one, and I doubt there’s much he can do for me now. Especially if I want to hang on to Spyros Magnate!”
“No,” Ryan said, his voice laced with impatience. “Not Don – like a private investigator, you know? Someone who can follow Pamela and tell you what she’s up to all the time.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Sounds awesome,” I said sarcastically.
“No, really,” Ryan said. “What if this guy trails her and finds out she’s seeing someone else? You could force her to take a paternity test. I seriously bet that kid isn’t even yours. When was the last time you had sex?”
I frowned. “I don’t remember,” I said. “Probably like, seven or eight weeks ago. And besides, she was fucking another guy on the side the whole time!”
“See?” Ryan shrugged. “You already caught them together, that’s half the battle. I seriously bet this kid is his, and she just wants to trap you. Women are like that,” he added, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “They’re all impossible.”
“Not all of them,” I said, thinking of Honey. Honey would never do something like this – put me in such a shitty situation and then manipulative me. When I thought of how her face looked when I’d told her the news, it was a punch to the gut. She’d looked so betrayed and heartbroken, it was like she was a little kid who had just lost her pet kitten.
I knew I had to get her back, as soon as I could.
I sighed. “I think you’re right,” I said.
“What, about women?”
“No,” I said. “About the private investigator.” I cleared my throat. “When I get home, I’ll make some calls.”
“Good,” Ryan said. He groaned. “What a shitty situation, dude, I can’t believe you’re going through this.”
“Neither can I,” I said drily. “And I’m sure that Honey’s never going to speak to me again. You should’ve seen her face, man, she looked awful.”
Ryan shrugged. “She’ll get over it,” he said. “Just send her some flowers or something. Chicks love that.”
“She’s not like that,” I said, taking a deep breath and sighing. “She’s a different kind of woman, Ry. I’ve never met anyone like her before.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Man, you sound really hung up on her,” he said.
I shrugged. “She’s basically perfect,” I said. Under the table, I clenched my hands into fists. “And Pamela fucked everything up for me.”
“Go home and take a long nap,” Ryan advised. He drained the last of his beer and set the empty glass on the counter. “I’ve got to meet some people from work – my boss wants us at this team building thing. At least it’s at a bar.”
“What, you can’t stay?”
Ryan whistled and shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said, getting to his feet. “Sorry, man.” He reached out and rubbed my shoulder. “I’m sure things will work themselves out.”
I sighed. “Yeah,” I muttered. “I hope so.”
I’d planned on staying at the bar until it closed, getting piss drunk with Ryan before stumbling home. But now, thinking about Honey and Pamela and my whole fucked up mess of a situation, I knew I should be getting home and researching private investigators. The worst thing of all was knowing that even if I called Honey or reached out to her, she’d ignore me. She’d been so angry and sad when she’d stormed out of my office that I knew I’d be lucky if she ever spoke to me again.
When I got home, I kicked off my shoes and flopped on my bed. The pillows still smelled like Honey, and her scent made me ache with desire. I grabbed my laptop and began scrolling through the search results for private investigators. When I had a list of five or six that looked promising, I grabbed my phone and lay back against the pillows.
“Hello, thank you for calling Crosetti Firm, how may I help you?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I need to hire someone,” I said. “Can you help me with that?”
The girl – a secretary, I guessed – giggled. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll put you right through.”
Seconds later, a rough voice growled in my ear. “This is Don,” he snapped. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to hire someone to tail my ex-girlfriend,” I said. “Very discreetly.”
Don coughed. “You called the right place,” he said. His Brooklyn accent was so thick I could hardly understand him. “When you want me to start?”
I narrowed my eyes and sighed. “As soon as you can,” I said honestly.
“Great,” Don said. He gave me an address of a small office in Harlem. “Can you come by later?”
I glanced out the window. The sun was setting. Somewhere, Honey was settling down for the day.
“I can come right now,” I said darkly. “I’ll be right there.”
We hung up. Before I could put my phone away, I knew I had to try Honey. Sure, she could ignore me. But what if she answered?
What if she was willing to give me a second chance?
Biting my lip, I pulled up her contact info and dialed her number.
“Hello, you’ve reached Honey Walters. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, please leave your name, number, and a brief—“
Shit.
I hung up, groaning as I slid my phone into my back pocket. She wasn’t even taking calls, much less answering them. What if she’d blocked my number?
I frowned as I grabbed a light blazer and left my condo. My mind was stormy as I waited on the curb for a cab, sliding inside the backseat without even looking at the driver. I barked Crosetti’s Harlem address in a loud monotone and pulled out my phone, swiping open the screen and staring at Honey’s contact information.
More than anything, I wanted Honey to give me the time of day. I know that I fucked up, but I deserve another chance, right?
Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m so entitled that Honey deserves to blow me off, to never speak to me again. After all, she would be in the right. I got her hopes up, and I hurt her.
It’ll be a miracle if she ever speaks to me again, I thought grimly to myself as the cab rolled through wave after wave of New York City traffic. And I can’t fuck up again – I know she won’t tolerate it.
As
much as it kills me to admit it, Honey’s anger just makes me want her more. She’s unlike any other woman I’ve ever met…strong, sassy, fiercely independent. And most women, hell, most people couldn’t handle the stress of what Honey’s going through. I can’t even imagine it – going to my parents one day and hearing that my entire life has been a lie.
No doubt about it. She’s perfect for me.
“Hey,” the cabbie barked, slowing down in front of a grimy office building. “That’s thirteen seventy-five.”