My back stiffened. “I’m a professional.”
“Then why haven’t you talked to Stark yet?”
There was silence because I didn’t have an answer that would be acceptable.
“I’m sorry Erica. I know you’ve worked hard. Maybe you can sell it somewhere else when it’s done, although I’d be careful. I don’t think Stark wants this story printed.”
I gave myself a mental facepalm for not seeing it sooner. He had to have unleashed his lawyers on the publisher of the magazine and of course, under the threat of being sued, especially since I hadn’t yet interviewed him, I could see why they backed out. God, I should have known he’d do something like this.
I could argue that Stark shouldn’t be able to intimidate the press, but this was a magazine, and it wouldn’t want to go up against a billionaire, especially since they didn’t have my complete story.
When I hung up, I wanted to throw my phone across the room and scream. What a bastard Stark was. Of course, he’d use his influence to kill the story. That was the type of man he was. I was a professional journalist, but the truth was, I wanted the world to know the kind of man that he was. He wasn’t a golden boy. After what he’d done to me five years ago, I wanted people to see him for what he really was. A self-absorbed, conceited, vindictive man.
I closed my eyes, and couldn’t stop the memory of his cruelty from flooding back.
I wanted to believe it was a dream. That the last six weeks with Simon was an illusion because I couldn’t believe it was true. I’d thought for sure after that first night together, I’d never see him again. But I did. He called to make sure I got home alright and asked me out again the next day. That Saturday, we spent the entire day together, and the night. This time I didn’t go home. It was a dream come true.
Six months in, I was at work looking at my calendar, and realized I was late on my period. Scared and at the same time excited, I ran out to get a pregnancy test. Positive. To make sure it was true, I made a doctor’s appointment.
“You’re pregnant.”
I was grinning at the doctor even as I worried how Simon would take it. How would my mother? Simon and I weren’t married, and while I loved him, I didn’t know how he felt about me. It was still too early to know if we’d last.
Even so, I had to hold onto the fact that he acted like he loved me. He’d told me many times that I was different. That he could trust me. That smile of his that hid something of him, was dissipating. We’d be okay, right?
Afraid yet hopeful, I gathered my courage to tell him about the baby as we snuggled on the couch after a lovely dinner.
“Simon.”
“Yes, love.” He kissed me on the temple, a sweet gesture that always made my insides melt.
“I’m pregnant.” I rushed on. “I know we haven’t been together long, but I care for you and this child.”
His body went rigid. He stood and walked to the bar, and my stomach dropped. He hadn’t said anything, but I could tell, he wasn’t happy about this news.
He poured a finger of bourbon and gulped it down. Then he looked at me with those dark eyes. “You have one chance to tell me the truth, Leslie.”
I wanted to hide from his glare. “I found out today. Well, for sure today. I saw a doctor. I’m pregnant.”
He shook his head and then threw his glass against the wall, making me flinch. “Get out!”
What? “Simon—”
“Get out!” he roared again.
I stood on wobbly legs and managed to leave his penthouse. Maybe he needed time to absorb the news? So, I tried again. I called, leaving him messages that I loved him and his child. I texted and emailed. I even wrote him a letter and mailed it. He didn’t reply to any of them.
A week later, I got a call from his lawyer who told me that Simon was prepared to take legal action against me if I didn’t stop harassing him.
I grew up a lot that day. Oh sure, I could have forced a paternity test and made him provide for the beautiful little boy I had nine months later. But the last thing I needed was my son being raised by a man like Stark. He made it clear he didn’t want a child. And he didn’t want me. So, alright then.
I thought about calling the perfect being we’d made, my sweet Mason, but I knew I was too upset right now to talk to him. Besides, now that my story was killed, I could go home and see him. It was always hard to leave him when I’d come to Salvation. Although I could drive it in a day, I often stayed overnight. Sometimes several nights, while Mason stayed with my mother.
I got up and showered, and washing away the sting of Simon’s actions, I realized that Floria was right. While Nebraska Now wasn’t going to run the story, I could sell it elsewhere. Maybe I could find a national magazine that would want it.
One thing was for sure, I thought as I packed my clothes, Simon hadn’t seen the last of me yet.
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