"What?" There's absolutely no way I heard him correctly.From the briefcase he brought in that I completely forgot about, he pulls out a quarter-inch-thick stack of papers. "My lawyers drew up these papers this weekend. I promise they are very favorable to you, but I strongly suggest you have a lawyer look them over before you sign if you'd like. If you sign this, you'll gain half voting control of my company."He tries to pass the papers over but I push them away. "Vincent, I don't want half your company." It's absurd. He doesn't need to sign away his company to prove a point to me."But I want you, Mackenzie. I need you to realize how important you are to me. How much I'm willing to give you when it's possible I can." Looking deep into my eyes and making sure I'm paying attention, he continues. "I've never felt this way about another human being. The moment I saw you I wanted you. At first it was purely physical, but I've gotten to know you and realize your quirks.""I don't
I turn on him, wanting to reach out and strangle him for reminding me of my childhood. "No, I just don't appreciate that nickname. It doesn't make me a bitch because I have an opinion about something that affects me."Men.The rest of my steps to the printer are hard as I stomp there and grab the stack of papers from the tray and then stop by the supply closet on the way back and pick out a bright pink highlighter.I will highlight the shit out of these reports.My chair flops back as I sit in it hard and then use my feet to roll me to the desk. Anytime a woman has a mind of her own, she's considered a bitch or told she's "ragging it." As if men never had a bad day or let something bother them. Somehow only weak women had those issues.It made me want to strangle every man on the planet.Holy shit.I drop the highlighter on the desk and use my fingers to count back the weeks, but I can't remember.I definitely wasn't having a time-of-the-month mood swing. Since I'm on t
"I like your little bed," Vincent says as he places a kiss on my collarbone, sucking on the skin and then lifting his head to create a pop when the suction releases. I laugh and push him away.He's playful, something I haven't seen much of, and I relish the moment together. "Yeah, why is that?""Because I have to practically lay on top of you and there's nowhere for you to escape."I laugh again and try to push him away, but he doesn't budge."Your view is better, though."Vincent's head falls to my neck and I tingle with the kiss against my skin. "Baby, that's because I have the best view in the city."His thick cock nestles between my legs and he bucks his hips, rubbing his length between my folds. "V," I warn him. He's getting dangerously close without paying. We've been naked for over twenty minutes and all he's done is tease me."Not yet. I said I got to taste you for a starter.""That was twenty minutes ago. Dinnertime is over."He laughs, a full sound I rarely
VOLUME THREE: THEIR WARMy car speeds past the Welcome to Indiana sign and for the first time since I jumped in the vehicle in the Valiant Industries parking lot, I take a full breath of air. Sadly, with it comes a bunch of doubt.What am I doing? I stood by Vincent's side through the drama we faced over the summer. And there was a lot of drama—like in spades. The ex-wife he hadn't officially divorced from his teenage years, and a slew of ex-lovers, one of them with compromising images of her with Vincent engaging in numerous sexual acts.Even after finding out the devastating news from the white stick in my apartment bathroom on Tuesday evening, I made it through a full day of work on Wednesday. Vincent and I having a baby was perfectly fine. I mean, I couldn't ever tell my moody billionaire boyfriend and my parents would kill me, but everything was fine. I'd totally play it cool. My hands barely shook, and when my boss, Dawn, mentioned throwing a baby shower for one of my cowor
How the hell can I get through this adversity when I don't have my best friend, a pint of ice cream, and a bottle of wine to help talk me through it?Fuck.I'm already the world's worst mother because I don't even know when I got pregnant. I've definitely had more wine than any baby should be drinking. Shouldn't my body have given me a warning?I've barely passed the Michigan border, but it seems I've been driving for days. Shouldn't I be to Florida by now? A sign for Angola, Indiana, flies by my window indicating the next exit and I consider it.I passed the sign two miles ago and didn't give it much thought, but now I take the exit and follow the directions to the downtown area. In the middle of a small main street is a fountain with a statue of a man greeting visitors. The first empty parking space is in front of a pizzeria and I take it, coming to a stop and shutting the car off.My hand falls from the steering wheel and rests on my stomach. How can I be pregnant? I've ex
"You absolutely are not going to work." Vincent readjust the covers, tucking them underneath the mattress as if he can cocoon me into his bed so I won't leave.I cough and sniffle, reaching for Kleenex. "Vincent, it's just allergies. I always get sick with the season changes. Twice a year I can't go outside for three days without getting a massive headache, runny nose, and a horrible cough. It always goes away and I'm absolutely fine."He reaches across the bed, feeling my forehead. "Are you sure you don't need a doctor?""I'm not going to a doctor for this. They won't do anything for me." I wasted money in the past and the only thing doctor did was prescribe an allergy med you need to take every day for the entire year. What's the point of that when I was sick a whole six days total in a year?"Fine, but you're definitely not working."Exactly at what point in my life did I go from arguing with my parents about not wanting to go to school to arguing with Vincent about work?
They walk right on by me while I'm blowing my nose with a scrunched-up tissue, looking like an absolute mess. Vincent opens the closet door and the other man pushes the rack in without question."You bought me more clothes?" A whole rack of them? If I didn't feel as if there might be truth to me having the fever Vincent accused me of having a few minutes ago, I would jump from the bed and search through them.It's absurd. I don't need more clothes.But then I notice something familiar at the end of the rack sticking out of the closet. It's a cream color with green on the sleeves—a sweatshirt with a big green print of Sparty's head on the front.That is my sweatshirt.I paid twenty-five dollars for that at a rally by The Rock, which was this enormous boulder on campus where groups fight over the privilege of painting. At least fifty years of paint is splattered on the thing, but walking by it every day on campus was an experience. Every night a new group claimed the space and
Days later, with my hair wrapped tightly in one of Vincent's soft bathroom towels, I step up to the bathroom mirror. Without thinking about it, because I've done it this way every day since high school, I reach to the right to grab my favorite lipstick from the counter. I can't always be trusted to put on a full face of makeup to go work in the marketing department, but my mother taught me from a young age to never leave the house without lipstick.Some lessons die hard.With my lips the perfect shade of deep red, which makes them look plumper, I recap the lipstick and set it to the side as if I'm in my apartment. But it's a weird because this is Vincent's penthouse. He's letting me take over his space, but it doesn't seem right. It's not mine. Even if I've messed up his bathroom in record time.A quick look to my left shows my blow dryer plugged in, the cord hanging haphazardly over the edge of the counter in my normal habit.I spin in a circle, letting my gaze hit the differe