I hate the smug look on her face. I loathe the entire concept behind this. I abhor being in this situation to begin with.
Still, I can’t let her win. “Oh, honey,” I say, giving her words back to her, “you can’t get pregnant from fucking him in your dreams.”
Her mouth drops open, and I soak up the small victory. She gets herself together much more quickly than I anticipate. “No, but you can get pregnant when he fucks you on his desk in the Mayor’s office, can’t you?” She takes another step closer, looking down at me from the good two inches she has on me. “It’s just as well that you know now and can leave him before all of this comes out. He’s never going to be with you anyway. I mean, shouldn’t that be obvious to you by now? You’re going into work,” she says, making a face, “in there. If he were serious about you—”
“If he were serious about you,” I bite out, “you wouldn’t be in my face tonight.”
She takes a step towards me, her breath hot on my face. “Guess where he is right now.”
“Working, just like I need to be,” I say, trying to take a step around her. “Now if you’ll take your pathetic ass out of my way . . .”
She blocks my path. “He’s with Daphne Monroe.”
The pleasure she gets in informing me of this isn’t lost on me. Her pupils shine with absolute delight.
I try to temper my reaction, not let my features show the surprise I feel, the blip of shock that’s sitting right in the center of my core. “If that were true—”
“Oh, it’s true,” she snickers. “Pull it up online. It’s her on his arm in front of the city tonight. Not. You.”
I make myself laugh, even though I don’t feel anything of the sort. But I want to make her feel stupid . . . and me feel stronger. “Well, it’s not you either. So that makes you, what? At least number three on his list and you’re supposedly carrying his child. What’s that say about you?”
“You little . . .” She huffs a breath, her eyes blazing. “You think your shit doesn’t stink, don’t you?”
“Nice imagery,” I snort. “Very classy. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”
As I’m walking around her, she grabs my shoulder. It throws me off balance and I stumble, just as her hand smacks me across the face.
“Ah!” I yelp, my cheek stinging from the contact. I turn quickly only to see her falling into the van behind her.
“You hit me!” she screams, her voice piercing the autumn air. “Someone help me!”
I can’t move, frozen in place by the unbelievability of the situation. Shock stiffens my body, even though my brain tells me to run. I feel a hand on my arm, men’s voices speaking, and my body being guided into the building.
The cool air hits my face, and I regain my bearings enough to see Lola running at me. Isaac is standing next to me, his arm on mine.
“Are ya okay?” he asks, his large brown eyes searching mine.
“I . . . I think,” I stumble, my arms stretching for Lola. Collapsing into her, hearing her shout directions at Isaac and then to Mr. Pickner, the tears flow freely. All of the emotion of the day pours out of me with reckless abandon.
“What happened out there?” Mr. Pickner bellows.
“Some girl attacked her,” Isaac says.
My face is buried in Lola’s shirt, soaking it. She pats my hair and holds me tight.
“Shit,” my boss hisses. “We don’t need this kind of publicity.”
“Are you seriously worried
about that right now?” Lola barks. “She’s a mess!”
“She is not my problem. My business is. I don’t need a bunch of fucking camera trucks here wanting to get the scoop on the Mayor’s fuck buddy.”
“I can’t believe you,” Lola gasps. “What kind of man are you?”
“Not much of one,” Isaac chips in from behind me. “You call her something like that again, and you’ll be picking yourself up off the floor. You got it?”
“Is this over your boyfriend?” Mr. Pickner asks, scowling.