CHAPTER 5: (DESPERATE MEASURES)

IVAN

I sat there, grumpier than ever, my jaw clenched tight and one hand tapping an impatient rhythm on my desk. On disturbing days like this, I preferred to cancel all my meetings. 

The silence of my office was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, making my head snap in that direction.

“I'd have to call security on her this time around.” I murmured to myself.

But instead of Danica, Peterson Calvin—my business partner turned friend—older by nearly two decades and never one to wait for an invitation, walked in. Classic Pete.

“Hey man, sorry I’m late for our meeting… Something about a tantrum in your lobby.” Peter shrugged off his suit jacket as he spoke.

Dragging my hand away from the security button I was about to press, I forced a tired smile. “Hey Pete,” I said, extending my hand for a shake. “Good to see you. Seems like your last business trip favored you well, at least the pictures you posted on your socials say so.”

He took my hand with a firm grip as I gestured for him to sit across me.

“What tantrum?” I asked, even though I already knew. McKellar had barely left before Pete showed up

“Ah! Yes, it really did,” he said with a contented sigh. “Italy never disappoints. Great wine, beautiful women. Though not as beautiful as my Emma,” he winked, settling on one of the leather seats. “As for the tantrum I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about, Ivan.” 

“And what if I don't?” My lips pressed into a hard line.

Pete whistled low, before letting out a chuckle. “Wow… well, I think you'll be making me a friend to a liar then.”

“She’s pregnant for me, Pete.” I blurted out, the heavy words crawling out of me like poison. 

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say a word.

“I’m not sure it’s mine,” I continued, dragging a hand down my face. “It was just sex… one night with her. She was my physical therapist.”

Pete arched a brow but still didn’t interrupt.

“What the hell was I thinking?” I sighed dejectedly, leaning backwards on the headrest.

“Seems like someone’s been busy in the sheets even before regaining full function.” His tone was light, but his gaze were sharp. “You sure you don’t want to handle it better with her? ‘Cause she looked distressed. Angry too.”

“I don’t know how else to handle it, Pete. It's going to be messy if the press catches wind of it. A child out of wedlock with a former employee?” I scoffed and shook my head. “I can already see the steamy headlines. The media would eat it up like hungry sharks.”

“If there's proof she's right, what would you do then?” He asked, his voice steady.

I glared at him, “what do you mean, if there's proof?”

“You know exactly what I mean Ivan… test results.”

“She brought one in already, for all I know, it might be fabricated.” I gestured wildly with my arms in the air.

“In the meantime, Ivan…” he paused, watching me carefully. “I think you might need to apologize to her.”

“Apologize?” I let out a humorless laugh, “she’s the one trying to trap me.”

“She didn’t look like someone trying to trap anyone. And knowing you, I’m sure you said a lot of unpleasant things to her.”

I gave him a half-smile. “Desperate measures, Pete.”

He grinned back and stood, smoothing his pants. “Just be careful with her. You know what they say.. ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’.”

“Trust me,” I said, straightening my tie. “I know exactly how dangerous women can be.” 

Amy had taught me better.

Pete patted my shoulder, “lets shift this meeting for another time, yeah?

I nodded.

“Just call if you need backup.”

I watched him go, my mind racing. My eyes drifted to the crumpled test results on the floor, it lay like a loaded gun.

Three weeks pregnant.

My thoughts churned wildly within me as my conscience pricked me.

It could be mine. 

Or it could be a damn lie.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my jaw clenching tight as my fingers ran through my hair. I couldn’t afford a scandal. Not now when my investors needed assurance that my long time away from work hadn't affected my knack for seamless business, and swift delivery.

Still, something about the way she’d stood there, trembling but defiant, lingered in my mind—Just like the passionate night we had spent together, with her lips tasting like cool honey in mine. 

The shrill ring of my phone cut through my straying thoughts like a sharp razor.

“Dammit!” I murmured under my breath.

The ringing continued insistent.

Another ring.

“F**k!” I snatched the phone from my desk, “this had better be important.”

‘Mama Clarkson’ flashed across my screen. Perfect. My mother's impeccable timing struck again.

‘‘Ivan?” her voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello mum.”

“How’re you dear? It's been so long since we talked.”

I glanced at the huge files in front of me, waiting for my indulgence. “I'm fine, just busy with pending workload.”

“Yes about that,” her tone shifted, laced with urgency, “your father has decided to review the timeline he gave to both you and your brother. He's reducing it to a year now.”

Damn! Of course, that's what this was about. This day must have been specially created to be a bad one for me. “One year?” I echoed, shocked at this revelation. “Dad of all people should know how serious this is, he can't expect me to just pop out a child like that.”

“I know Ivan, but I've known your father for almost all of my life and this time he's very serious. Besides, what's so hard in giving us a grandchild? What about Hansen's daughter? You know she's always throwing herself at you, and her father also has great connections—” 

“Mum!” I said, cutting her off.

“What? But darling it's the truth. It's either you or your step-brother gives him a grandchild. I don't think I need to remind you what that means if your step-brother should beat you to that, seeing he brought a blondie along with a wedding card to dinner on sunday. Dinners you've chosen to be absent from for no good reason,” she spat out.

I clenched my teeth tightly. “Yeah, first to pop out a grand child takes over the company as heir.” 

“Ivan dear, promise me you're going to get this sorted out before a year elapses,” she let out a sigh. “You don't even have to get married, just produce a grandchild and you'll be in your father's good books.”

I wanted to argue, let her know how unrealistic dad's idea was. But I knew when to pick my battles. “I'll think about it.”

“Good boy,’’ she said, her tone warming. “I'll let your dad know you send your regards.”

I ended the call, running a hand through my hair. Family dynamics were always a headache, especially with my father's ridiculous attempt to merge being heir of his multi-trillion international businesses and grandchildren together.

My crisply ironed shirt was becoming sticky with sweat, despite my working air conditioner. I cursed under my breath, reaching for the intercom.

“Mia,” I barked. “Schedule a meeting with McKellar. First thing tomorrow morning.” 

“Anything else sir?” her voice chimed through the speaker.

“Send legal to my office now.”

DANICA

Ivan was already seated when I arrived. His office was quiet, the air thick with his intoxicating cologne and something else I couldn’t quite name. 

“You're here,” he murmured.

“You called for me?” I replied, forcing herself to remain calm. Even though I had been very much surprised when Mia called to tell me about the meeting yesterday.

“Sit,” his voice came out as a command.

I hesitated momentarily but dropped into one of the soft leather chairs, clasping my fingers together in front of me like a shield. A file and a black pen lay on the desk between us. It looked official, making my heart thud.

“I’ve thought about what you said,” his voice was disturbingly calm. “And while I still doubt the thing… child is mine, I’m not a man who leaves loose ends. Especially when those ends could blow up in my face or business.”

My throat tightened, seeing how his shoulders tensed beneath his perfectly tailored suit. “So… you want a DNA test carried out?”

“In due time,” he said, adjusting his designer necktie. “But until then, I’m proposing a solution.”

I was about to wonder what solution we could have between us, when he slid the file toward me. I could feel his gaze, heavy on me as I opened it cautiously.

“A contract?” I muttered under my breath, nearly dropping the file.

Ivan leaned forward, “You’ll live in a separate wing in my mansion for the next two years. I’ll take care of you and your sick daughter. In return, you will not seek media attention, or any form of romantic relationship with me.”

I blinked rapidly, my brain struggling to process all he had just said. “And after two years?”

“If the child is proven to be mine–” 

“Proven? It's yours,” I wondered how many times I would have to say that to him, before he'd believe me.

He continued ignoring me, “you’ll hand full custody over to me and walk away.” He added, “with nothing.” At that point, Ivan's tone would have frozen lava.

“Just like that?” I whispered. “You want to own my child like... like an object, one of your cars?”

“If this child is mine, a Clarkson, yes I’ll raise it under my terms.” he growled, his eyes daring me.

My mouth parted to protest, but he's finger tapped a specific paragraph in the file, bringing it to my notice.

“And that’s not all.”

Leaning forward, I read aloud the line he had pointed to, my voice breaking.

“Should the signee violate the agreed terms–including, but not limited to, seeking romantic involvement elsewhere during the contract period–all privileges will be revoked, and reconsidered…”

My eyes lifted to meet his, wide with disbelief as my hands curled into fists on my lap. “And what if I say no?”

“Then I'll make other arrangements. Ones you won't like,” he pounced, wearing a wicked scowl on his face.

Ivan's message was clear to me. A legal war with him. One he knew I wouldn't win.

Before I could retort back in defiance, a phone's shrill ring pierced through our conversation, cutting through the tension.

He raised an eyebrow, “that's your phone.”

“Oh right. My phone.” 

I fumbled with my phone, embarrassed, almost dropping it before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Danica McKellar?” A clinical voice cut through the line.

“Speaking.”

“This is LifeFirst General Hospital. Your daughter, Valerie McKellar who was brought into our intensive care unit–”

I shot up from my seat. “What happened? Is she–”

“I'm so sorry to inform you that we lost her. Our team did everything possible, but—”

My world tilted sideways. The voice, the pristine office, Ivan's expensive desk, the Chicago skyline–everything blurred into meaningless shapes.