Instead, I shrugged. “Don’t threaten me. It’s not your choice to make, Jasper, so I will do what I need to, what I have to do, for me. No one else but me.”
His chest pressed against mine, his face twisted into an angry scowl.
“Oh, I haven’t even begun to threaten you, Mo. Not yet.”
His gaze raked over my body, as real and as visceral as the way his mouth had earlier. I shivered at the memory, at the heat in his gaze. He wanted to hate fuck me right now; I could feel it. And I wanted it.
But Jasper took a step back and then another, and another, a wicked smile on his face as he disappeared from view. Moments later, the front door opened and then closed. My body relaxed when I confirmed that he was gone, but my heart raced like crazy.
Now that Jasper knew I was pregnant, I had to figure out what the fuck my next step would be. He wasn’t a man to fuck around with, but I wouldn’t let him force the decision before I was ready to make it. It was mine to make and mine alone.
Fuck what he thought.
Chapter Nineteen
Jasper
Mo was pregnant. Fucking pregnant and claiming that the baby was mine. Un-fucking-believable. With all the shit I had going on in my life, this was the last goddamn thing I needed.
I didn’t believe her, of course. I had a shit ton of money, and it was no secret Mo appreciated the finer things in life. Having a baby with an Ashby would set her up even better than she already was, but she hadn’t said a thing. She already had books and shit about being pregnant, which meant despite her flippant words, she was planning on keeping it.
Mo was going to keep the baby, and she hadn’t said a fucking word to me. Which begged the question, would she have said a word if I hadn’t shown up for a quick fuck? Was she more afraid of my fucked-up Ashby genes than the allure of my wealth and influence?
Or was she worried that I wasn’t a man capable of stepping up to take responsibility for my actions, that I wouldn’t take care of her and the baby? That was a lot of shit to unpack, and I didn’t have the time or mental energy to deal with it right now. I needed to move some of this shit off my plate, so I could deal with Mo and my possibly, maybe, baby.
A knock sounded, pulling me from my thoughts. I’d come straight to Midnight Mass after visiting with Mo at least a few hours ago, and I hadn’t accomplished a damn thing. “What?”
The door opened and Terry appeared. With Ellison. “You sound like a big ball of sunshine.” Terry smirked and stepped inside, Jameson right behind him.
My attention went straight to Jameson. “It’s not payday yet,” I growled. “And don’t even fucking think about asking for more money.”
Everybody had a fucking hand out now that Sadie was still in a coma, and the local news talked about it nonstop.
Jameson wasn’t in uniform as he walked further into my office and dropped down on the leather chair directly in front of me.
“Damn, you are in a good mood.” His ever-present smile fixed in place, Jameson shook his head. “Relax, Jasper. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I’m not looking to add to it.”
I nodded my appreciation.
“I was over at Pomodoro’s, you know that deli right off the Strip that caters to cops? They have the best roast beef and cheddar with fresh horseradish. It’s so fucking good, and I can’t get enough of it, but the smell makes Maddy sick, so I’m not allowed to bring it home until after the baby is born. And you know they put malt vinegar on their fries. Steak fries. That shit is unbelievable.”
“Get to the fucking point,” I growled.
Jameson grinned, not bothered by my bad attitude. “The fries are so damn crispy on the outside and almost like mashed potatoes on the inside. No idea how they do it, but it’s so good I damn near came in my pants.”
He chuckled and shook his head, gaze far off as if he was reliving his goddamn lunch.
“Ellison.”
He smiled again. “There was this cop there, Robinette, you know him? Anyway, he tells me to add a little extra malt vinegar until it’s almost soaked, and you know what? Fucking incredible. Know what else he told me?”
“You’re getting on my nerves, Ellison.”
“Told me about some plucky redheaded federal agent with a hard-on for the Ashby family. She dropped a tip that Lucky Lopez has underage girls working the stages. He didn’t believe it, of course, but Robinette has two ex-wives and is desperate for the overtime, so he’s suiting up for the planned raid tonight, right before shift change so between eleven and eleven-thirty would be my guess.”