Pregnant By My Boss

“Okay. Talk.” I stand, facing him, with my arms crossed snugly over my large chest. His eyes scan my body, pausing over my breasts, maybe remembering the last time we were together, his mouth on my nipples….

“There’s something different about you,” he says slowly when he finishes his survey of my figure. “I can’t figure out what it is.”

He continues to study me. I wait for him to realize I’ve put on weight. After all, my breasts and larger and my hips even wider than before. But my expression is also tired and haggard. I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s intuitive about these things—if he can piece together the fact that I’ve had a baby. Inside, I laugh to myself. Of course he won’t figure it out. Never in a million years would he think pregnancy was in the picture.

“I’m not different,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible. My brain is working quickly in a panic to make sure he doesn’t find out. I don’t know what would happen if he did.

He sighs. “Your body has changed, but I know it’s been a year and people change. But there’s something else. It’s almost like you’re…glowing.”

My breath hitches. That’s a word they use describe pregnant women and new mothers. Glowing. Radiant. Happy. I do feel that way sometimes, but I didn’t know it was so obvious on the outside. The people close to me know I have a kid. My employees, of course, know that I took maternity leave until today. My neighbors, strangers on the street, they’ve all seen Trentie and me together. I haven’t intentionally kept him a secret from anyone except his father. But somehow, I wish I could cover up the fact that I’m glowing, and take back whatever happy aura I’m emitting. Because Trentie’s my precious secret, and mine alone.

“It’s from the exercise,” I say in a pathetic attempt to cover it up. “I was carrying heavy trays back and forth from the kitchen when you blindsided me.”

“It’s not that. I can’t put my finger on it, but—”

“Forget it. Is that what you wanted to talk about? Because if that’s all, I’m going back to help my team.”

I try to walk around him, but he swiftly takes a step and gets in my way. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about and you know it. I wanted to talk about how you left that morning and then never took any of my calls or answered my messages. You ghosted me, and I deserve to know why.”

I feel like I might pass out for the second time today. He thinks I ghosted him?

“You asshole!” I exclaim angrily, pushing his chest. “I never got a single call from you! I tried to call you so many times, and you wouldn’t accept my calls. I even came to see you and you couldn’t be bothered.”

Trent has the audacity to look confused. “Excuse me? I never received a single call from you. And if you had gone to my home, my staff would have informed me.”

I laugh mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I called your company line over and over again, and I couldn’t get past the operator. It was like I was on a blacklist or something. And your butler and security guard can both vouch for me. I was at your mansion a year ago, Trent. I came to tell you—to talk to you.”

He jerks sharply.

“You didn’t,” is that growl. “I haven’t heard from you since we last met.”

I shake my head, suddenly tired. Because what is there to say? That we really missed each other dozens of times? That this man has been secretly craving me for over a year? Those are pipe dreams … and yet I can’t help but to hope.

Chapter Ten

Trent

“You’re lying,” I say, staring at her, but I’m less sure of myself now than I was before. She seems so adamant and angry. Could she be telling the truth? Did she really try to reach me over and over again? Even going to my house?

“I’m not lying,” she says, shaking her head. “I have no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, could have easily contacted me. I left you my card, and you hired my company. If you wanted to talk before today, you had every opportunity.”

I laugh. “Seriously?” I ask incredulously. “I called you so many times it became obsessive! I had to stop myself from calling you every fucking hour.”

“If that were true, I’d have known. My company doesn’t have blacklists, unlike yours apparently.”

I gawk at her. Only telemarketers and people who have tried very hard to convince me to partner with them on various projects are on this list. Not beautiful women I want to sleep with again.

“We have a very limited list of people to ignore, but I assure you, your name isn’t on it,” is my stiff reply. I can’t believe she would think that I would put her on some no-answer list.