The Billionaire's Secret Marriage (Limitless) - Page 83

nbsp; A box on Bran’s desk buzzed, indicating someone was at his office door. “I don’t have time. Carina’s already here. Mind looking it up for me?”

“Sure. Guess it’s the least I can do for the guy who’s paying my new assistant’s salary and housing.”

“I didn’t agree to pay for—”

“Want me to send a text as soon as I find out the answer?”

Outside the door, his visitor demonstrated her impatience with persistent knocking. “Branson, let me in.”

Bran gritted his teeth and murmured into the phone. “Yes, please. And hurry.”

As he disconnected the call, he pressed a button to unlock the door. She marched inside, complaining as she came. “First, you insist I make an appointment, just to talk to you. Me—your fiancée. Why should I need an appointment to speak to my husband-to-be? And then, when I come, you make me stand outside and wait. I don’t know what you think about our relationship, but I can tell you I’m not putting up with this kind of thing. I deserve to be treated with respect.”

Branson imagined her standing with her hand on her hips, looking down on him as if she thought herself superior in every way. He waited until her tirade dwindled to nothing, then leaned forward with his elbows on his desk, folding his hands to support his chin.

“Good afternoon, Carina. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank me for coming? I’m the one who insisted we talk. You’ve been avoiding me all week, treating me like I’m nobody, instead of your fiancée.”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Not sure your title is still fiancée. That would imply we’re getting married.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Are you threatening me?”

“Not at all.” He forced his lips to smile. “I’m simply explaining to the woman who lied to me and drugged me that I’m not sure she possesses the qualities I’m seeking in a wife.”

“That was only out of desperation.” Her voice went shaky. “It was all for the baby. He needs his father.”

“About that… I’ve been thinking…” Branson let his words hang, stalling for time. Hurry up, Finn. What did you find? “I’m thinking perhaps the baby needs his or her father, but that might not be me.”

“How dare you!” Carina’s outrage didn’t convince Branson of anything.

“Sorry to offend you, Carina.” He yawned and stretched as he rose from his desk and strolled to the coffee maker in the corner of the room. “Yet, I seem to remember a conversation where you expressed that we needn’t be exclusive, even if we were married. Doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in the child’s paternity. There’s that, and the fact that I took precautions.”

“Precautions aren’t one hundred percent effective,” she declared. “Hope you don’t plan to wait until your child is born before we get married.”

It occurred to Branson she might not be pregnant at all. She’d flashed a sonogram at his friends, but what proof did he have that it was hers? In his pocket, his cell phone vibrated. He slid it out and checked the message from Finn. Then his lips curled into the first genuine smile he’d worn all day.

“Carina, why don’t you sit down for a minute? You’re pregnant, so you shouldn’t be on your feet, right?”

“Fine,” she grumbled, settling heavily into the chair across the desk. “At least you’re showing some consideration… for the first time.”

“Have you seen the newest version of the prenup agreement? The one that nullifies any exchange of property in the event the child’s paternity isn’t confirmed.”

He heard the surprise in her voice. “Mark didn’t say anything—” She coughed, an awkward choking noise. “No, I haven’t seen the new one.”

“Mark? Since when are you on a first-name basis with my attorney?”

Or should he say ex-attorney. Mark Johnson had left at least a dozen messages since yesterday, urging immediate action and proposing alternate solutions, all of which involved a quick marriage.

“We’ve exchanged a lot of phone calls and emails over the past few weeks,” she defended.

Had Mark and Carina exchanged more than phone calls?

“I mentioned the paternity test, because I’ve decided I want one, immediately.”

“Now?” she squeaked. “You can’t do that. Not without risking the baby’s life.”

“Actually, there’s a simple test available. If the results say I’m the father, I’ll marry you within a week. I want my son or daughter to be legitimate.”

Tags: Tamie Dearen Billionaire Romance
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