The Pregnant Colton Bride

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Zane made no reply. Watching her, it suddenly hit him what was going on. Putting his hand on her shoulder to press her down again as she tried for a second time to gain her footing, he sat down next to her.

He shook his head. How could he have not seen this before?

“You know,” he told her, “I can be pretty dense sometimes.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she heard herself saying.

Her voice sounded distant and tinny to her ear. Mirabella was still having a great deal of difficulty focusing on the room. She clenched her hands in her lap, unaware she was clutching the towel he’d placed on her forehead. Her mind scrambled for a way to explain herself out of this. She didn’t want him or anyone else knowing the truth, at least not yet.

“What I mean,” he replied patiently, “is I don’t always pick up on all the clues that are right there in front of me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as her heart seemed to stand still for a moment.

Had Zane guessed the crush she had harbored for him all this time had turned into something that was now a great deal more? Did he know his every kindness had warmed her heart and that she had begun to see him as something other than just her boss? Did he suspect that lately he’d begun to enter her dreams on almost a nightly basis?

Mirabella racked her brain, trying to come up with something to deflect his suspicions, if it wasn’t already too late.

But before she could come up with any sort of a reply, Zane rendered her entirely speechless by asking, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Her mouth dropped open and she could only stare at him in total silence. Her mind went blank and words completely failed her.

“I take that as a yes,” he commented in response to her total silence.

What he didn’t comment on, either to her or to himself, was how the realization of Mirabella’s apparent delicate condition suddenly created wide, stinging holes through his entire being.

He found himself feeling vastly disappointed and he couldn’t even begin to explain, to himself and certainly not to her, why. After all, he wasn’t one of those supermoralists who professed to know what was best not just for himself but for everyone else around him.

As far as he was concerned, he’d always espoused a philosophy of live and let live. What that meant was he believed everyone had a perfect right to live their lives the way they wanted to, as long as no one else was hurt in the process.

But that was just it, he realized. This did hurt. It hurt a great deal.

Finding out Mirabella was pregnant, that there was a man in her life, someone she’d cared enough about to sleep with—because he knew she wasn’t the type to have careless, meaningless sex with just anyone—somehow felt as if it crushed his very soul.

Damn it, Colton, get over it. She’s your administrative assistant, not your long lost soul mate, a small voice in his head insisted.

Usually, that small voice had a great deal of wisdom going for it. But this time around, Zane just wasn’t so sure.

Still feeling shaky, Mirabella told herself that she couldn’t just continue sitting there, saying nothing while Zane made assumptions. Dead-on assumptions, unfortunately, but still, she had to say something to defend herself. To not say anything made her seem either stupid, or indifferent to her situation.

Or just plain brazen.

She was none of those. She never had been. What she was, Mirabella thought, was completely overwhelmed. Never in her wildest dreams did she believe she would ever be in this sort of a situation. She’d thought if she ever did find herself pregnant, it would be because it had been a conscious choice on her part.

Hers and her husband’s.

Instead, things had just happened around her without her actual consent. This was not how she’d envisioned her life.

Mirabella clenched her hands into fists on either side of her. She absolutely refused to allow herself to behave like a victim. And in order to not be a victim, she had to get out in front of this situation, had to take charge of it as well as of the rest of her life. Her pride would allow for nothing less.

“Yes,” she replied in a quiet voice.

“Yes?” he repeated, uncertain exactly what she was saying yes to.

The time lapse between when he’d stopped talking and she had just spoken up had been large enough to leave a great deal of room for confusion. And right now he was confused as well as disappointed.

“Yes, you’re right,” she told him stoically. “I am pregnant.”

Again, he felt as if he’d just been sucker punched. Upbraiding himself that there was no reason for him to feel this way didn’t seem to change anything.

“Are congratulations in order?” he asked in a subdued voice.

He assumed, since Mirabella was making this admission, she intended to keep the baby, but he wasn’t about to take anything for granted, just in case. He waited to be told her intentions.

“Right now,” she replied honestly, “I’m not sure just what’s in order. I’ll let you know when—and if—I ever stop being so damn sick.”

Zane remained sitting on the sofa, shifting slightly so he was now on the far edge. He didn’t want to appear to be crowding her.

“Have you been to see a doctor?” he asked her. Her welfare was still his main concern.

“Oh, yes,” she told him with exaggerated feeling. It was the doctor who had indifferently informed her of her condition.

Zane picked up on her tone of voice. “The doctor wasn’t reassuring?”

“If by that you mean did he tell me about my options, yes, he did. To quote him, I could either ‘have it, or not have it.’ And,” she continued, trying not to allow her emotions to break through, “if I went with door number one, I still didn’t have to keep it once the ‘residency’ period was up. I could always give it up for adoption,” she said, quoting the doctor.

The conversation she’d had with the doctor had left her so cold and numb, she’d spent the rest of the day and part of the next crying.

“What are you going to do?” Zane asked her, forgetting for the moment that as her boss, he had no right to ask her questions of such a personal, probing nature.

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll let you know the second I stop throwing up everything but the kitchen sink so I can think clearly.”

Mirabella felt another wave coming over her and fought to keep it from overwhelming her. She pressed her hand against her stomach as if that could somehow contain and subdue the pending waves of nausea and keep them from coming up.

“If this is what it feels like, why would any woman in her right mind ever want to be pregnant?” she asked miserably.

He was doing his best to maintain a professional distance, but he just couldn’t help feeling sympathetic about what she was going through.

“I’m definitely no expert, but I don’t think it feels like that for every woman,” he told her. “And from what I’ve heard, a lot of women think it’s all really worth it—once they get to hold their baby in their arms.”

Zane paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask her the next question. It turned out to be a very short debate.

“How does the baby’s father feel about all this?”

Mirabella stiffened, inadvertently recalling the man’s parting words to her. Words she had no desire to repeat. Nor did she want to remember anything about him, because he had turned out to be so very different from the man he had pretended to be.

But that was on her, Mirabella thought the next moment. How naive could she have been not to realize some men would say anything just to get what they were after? It wasn’t as if she’d lived a sheltered life, she knew these things happened, that there were men—a lot of men—who lied.

The problem was, she didn’t realize this could happen to her, that someone would knowingly and deliberately lie to her. The very fact that this had happened to her made her feel violated.

But she was determined it wouldn’t destroy her.

She turned her head to look at Zane. “I’d rather not talk about that if you don’t mind,” she replied a little formally.

It was his cue to pull back, to drop the subject that wasn’t any of his business to begin with.

But because Mirabella was his administrative assistant, because he interacted with her every day and relied on her being as efficient as she had been up until now, for this as well as so many other reasons, her well-being was his concern.

In his view, the term well-being encompassed a great deal of territory.

“But he does know, right?” he prodded, watching Mirabella’s face for a telltale clue. “The baby’s father does know about its existence? You did tell him, right?” He wanted to know.

Mirabella shifted uncomfortably. It felt decidedly strange to her to be thinking about Kyle in the present tense now that he was dead. But the fact that he was dead really didn’t change anything. She didn’t want to admit to having slept with him, which, in turn, was to admit to being used by him.

In her eyes it made her seem like a little fool—and worse. But since Zane was obviously not letting go of this, she made the nebulous admission and hoped that would be enough for him.

“Yes, I told him. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to drop the subject.” She began to get up. “I’d—”

She stopped abruptly as another wave of nausea, this one far more intense than its immediate predecessor, suddenly caught her up in its grip. She dug the fingernails of her left hand into the arm of the sofa as if that could somehow channel the sensation she was feeling out of her body and into the inanimate object.

It couldn’t.

Caught up in all this, Zane saw that horrid color—pea green—reemerge and all but paint her complexion from the throat up.

He could see by the sudden panicked look in her eyes that she felt she wasn’t going to be able to make it down the hall in time.

He wasn’t about to allow her to embarrass herself in front of the other people on the floor. They were, in general, good people. But a lot of good people still loved to gossip. Some actually thrived on it, he recalled.

With that in mind, Zane quickly got to his feet and out of her way.

“Use my bathroom,” he volunteered. He saw she was about to demur and he quickly cut her off. “You’re not going to make it down the hall. Now stop being so damn stubborn about everything and use the blasted bathroom,” he ordered, pushing open the door to the pristine restroom.

She wanted to protest and tell him that she was going to use the ladies’ room since it was available to everyone. But she never got the chance.

Her words were blocked by the sensation of something ominous about to reappear at any second and it was going to be right here, on his rug, if she didn’t hustle and take advantage of the generous offer he’d just made to her.

She felt there was a time for pride and a time for practicality and this definitely fell into the latter category.

Wanting to murmur “thank you” but afraid if she so much as opened her mouth, they would both deeply regret it, she could only nod at him as she dashed past Zane and straight into the bathroom.

Knowing she would welcome privacy as much as he would welcome not having to hear anything he’d prefer not to, Zane pulled the door closed behind her.

Just in time.

The next moment, he heard a knock on his outer door.

Chapter 6 (#ulink_b170dd45-da39-52a9-a283-997aee7d6244)

Zane’s first thought was he needed to get rid of whoever was on the other side of his office door before Mirabella emerged from his bathroom. That seemingly innocent event could very easily start rumors and rumors of any sort were the last thing he needed to deal with right now. He’d learned from personal experience that people were capable of taking a tidbit of what they perceived to be information and somehow wound up spinning the complete works of William Shakespeare out of it.

Crossing quickly toward the door, Zane pulled it open.

Any thought of sending the person off instantly vanished when he saw who it was.

In his midthirties and balding, Meyer Stanley had a slight build. He obsessively maintained ramrod straight posture in an effort to appear at least a little taller than his five-foot-five-inch stature. He succeeded only in making himself look like a determined swizzle stick when he walked.

His most outstanding feature, despite the black framed glasses he wore—or perhaps because of them—was his eyes. As he walked into Zane’s office, Meyer’s eyes appeared so huge, they were almost startling.

To say Zane was surprised to see the IT expert was putting it mildly.

“I just talked to you a few minutes ago,” Zane said. Had Meyer forgotten to add something?

Meyer bobbed his head up and down. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up with a jerky motion of his index finger.

“Yes, I know.” The three words came out sounding almost breathless.

Zane took a guess as to why the man had felt compelled to suddenly rush over. “Did you find out where my father’s money was being wired?”

Again Meyer nodded vigorously in response. When he spoke, his voice had dropped several octaves from its usual high-pitched tone. But before he spoke, he looked furtively around, as if he wanted to make sure there was no one else in the room who would overhear what he was about to say.

“I thought it was best if I came to tell you this in person.”

Zane had worked with Meyer for a couple of years now, albeit in a different division, and knew the man had a flair for the dramatic. But this was a level he’d never witnessed before. Zane had absolutely no idea what to expect.

An uneasiness began to work its way through his system, although he continued to maintain a perfect poker face.

“Go ahead.”

“The regular transfers from one of your father’s bank accounts—when they were being made,” Meyer qualified, trying to be painstakingly accurate, “were going into an encrypted bank account belonging to—”

Meyer paused, not for any sort of dramatic effect, but because he was obviously nervous about the disclosure he was about to make.

Zane couldn’t remember ever seeing the IT expert behave this way. Just how damning was this discovery Meyer had made?

“Go ahead, out with it, Meyer,” Zane ordered. “Who did the account belong to?”

Meyer swallowed. “It belonged to—”

A noise from the side of the office caught his attention. Meyer looked around Zane’s arm and he saw the bathroom door being opened. Someone was coming out.