CHAPTER 13: Back to Work

Monday morning came too quickly.

I stood outside Sterling Corporation headquarters, staring up at the glass tower and trying to convince myself I could do this.

A week off had helped. I'd seen Dr. Roberts twice more. Started taking prenatal vitamins. Researched pregnancy obsessively on the internet. Slowly accepted that in seven and a half months, I'd be someone's mother.

But I hadn't been back to the office. Hadn't faced my colleagues or James or the reality of being pregnant while working at Sterling Corporation.

"You can do this," I muttered to myself. "You're just going to work. Like a normal person. Who happens to be pregnant with her boss's baby. Completely normal."

Several people walking past gave me strange looks.

Right. Talking to myself in public. Great start.

I took a deep breath and walked through the revolving doors.

The lobby felt different somehow. Or maybe I was different. Everything felt heightened—the sound of my heels on marble, the artificial air conditioning, the faint smell of coffee from the café near the elevators.

Pregnancy senses, Dr. Roberts had said. Everything would be more intense for a while.

"Bella!" Claire appeared beside me, smiling warmly. "You're back! We missed you. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Thanks." The lie came easily. I wasn't better. I was pregnant and terrified and completely out of my depth. But "better" was what people expected.

"Good. James has been impossible without you. The Nakamura campaign needs your touch."

James. Right. My ex-boyfriend who also happened to be my boss and also happened to be the son of the father of my baby.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

We rode the elevator to the marketing floor. Claire chattered about office gossip—someone in accounting was having an affair, the vending machine on twelve was broken, there was a rumor about layoffs that was probably false.

I nodded in the right places, but my mind was elsewhere.

Alexander's penthouse. Saturday night. The conversation that had lasted three hours and solved nothing.

"We need to figure out living arrangements," he'd said.

"I'll find an apartment," I'd replied.

"You can't afford anything safe in this city. Not on your salary."

"I'll manage."

"Isabella." He'd taken my hand, his thumb brushing my knuckles in a way that made my breath catch. "Let me help. Please."

But we'd left it unresolved. Too many implications. Too many complications.

"Bella? You okay?" Claire was watching me with concern.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just tired."

"Well, welcome back. Your desk is exactly how you left it. Probably dusty, but otherwise intact."

My desk was in the marketing bullpen, third row from the windows. Someone had left a "Welcome Back" card. Sweet, but it made me feel like an impostor.

I was settling in when I felt eyes on me.

James.

He was standing by his office door, watching me with that expression I'd learned to dread. Calculating. Suspicious.

He gestured for me to join him.

My stomach dropped. But I stood, smoothed my blouse, and walked over with as much confidence as I could fake.

"My office," he said.

I followed him in. He closed the door but left the blinds open. The entire floor could see us.

"You look different," he said, circling me like a predator.

"I was sick. People tend to look different after being sick."

"Hmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Stomach bug, your email said."

"Yes."

"Funny thing about stomach bugs. They usually resolve in a few days. You were out for a week."

"It was a bad bug."

"Was it?" He leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Or was it something else?"

My heart pounded. Did he know? How could he know?

"I don't know what you're implying."

"Don't you?" His smile was sharp. "You disappear for a week. You come back looking pale and tired. And I heard an interesting rumor that you visited the medical office. Several times."

Shit. Who'd seen me? Dr. Roberts said everything was confidential, but apparently someone had noticed my comings and goings.

"I was sick. I saw the company doctor. That's what she's there for."

"Multiple times?"

"She wanted to make sure I was fully recovered before returning to work." The lie flowed smoothly. Too smoothly. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Just making sure you're fit to work. We have a lot of projects and I need my team at full capacity."

"I'm fine."

"Good." But he didn't look satisfied. "One more thing. My father."

My blood ran cold. "What about him?"

"He's been asking about you."

"Asking what?"

"How you're settling in. If you're having any problems. If I'm treating you fairly." James's eyes narrowed. "It's unusual. Dad doesn't typically micromanage personnel issues. Unless there's a reason."

I kept my face neutral. "Maybe he's just being thorough. The merger is important."

"Maybe." James moved closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne—the same one he'd worn when we dated. It made my stomach turn. "Or maybe there's something you're not telling me."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Yet." He opened the door, dismissing me. "But I'll figure it out. I always do."

I left his office feeling like I'd dodged a bullet but knowing the gun was still loaded.

Back at my desk, I tried to focus on work. The Nakamura campaign needed revisions. There were emails to answer. Reports to read.

But I couldn't concentrate.

James was suspicious. Someone had noticed my medical visits. And I was supposed to work here for the next seven months while my pregnancy became impossible to hide.

This was a disaster.

Around eleven, my stomach revolted. Morning sickness that Dr. Roberts had warned me would probably get worse before it got better.

I made it to the bathroom just in time, grateful it was empty.

When I emerged from the stall, Dr. Roberts was there.

"Bella." Her voice was kind but concerned. "You're back."

"First day."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to die."

She smiled sympathetically. "First trimester is rough. Have you been taking the vitamins?"

"Every day."

"Good. Here." She pulled something from her pocket—a small package of crackers. "Keep these at your desk. Eat them first thing in the morning before you even get out of bed. It helps."

"Thank you."

"And Bella?" She lowered her voice. "If you need anything—time off, accommodations, someone to talk to—my door is open. Okay?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

After she left, I stared at myself in the mirror. Pale. Dark circles under my eyes. The beginnings of that pregnancy glow that everyone talked about but that mostly just looked like sweat.

This was my life now.

I made it through the rest of the day by sheer willpower. Avoided James. Smiled at colleagues. Pretended everything was normal.

At five-thirty, my phone buzzed.

ALEXANDER: How was your first day back?

Just seeing his name made something in my chest ease.

ME: Survived. Barely.

ALEXANDER: James?

ME: Suspicious. Asking questions.

ALEXANDER: About?

ME: Everything. Why you're asking about me. Why I was out. Why I visited medical multiple times.

There was a long pause. Then:

ALEXANDER: Come to my office. Now.

ME: People will talk.

ALEXANDER: Let them. I need to see you.

The "need" did something to my resolve.

ME: Okay.

The executive floor was mostly empty. David had gone home. Alexander's door was closed but unlocked.

I knocked anyway.

"Come in."

He was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He looked tired. And unfairly handsome.

"Close the door," he said.

I did, staying near it. Safe distance.

"Sit down, Isabella."

"I'm fine standing."

"Please." There was something in his voice. Urgency. Need. "Sit."

I sat.

He came around the desk, leaning against it so he was closer to me but not touching.

"James is suspicious," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Someone saw me at the medical office. He's asking questions."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was sick. That Dr. Roberts wanted to be thorough."

"Did he believe you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But he's going to keep digging."

Alexander's jaw clenched. "Then we need to decide. Do we tell him now, on our terms? Or wait until you're showing and he figures it out himself?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead. "I—I don't know."

"Think about it." He moved closer, crouching so we were eye level. "If we tell him now, we control the narrative. Yes, it'll be awkward and complicated. But at least it's our truth."

"And if we wait?"

"He'll feel betrayed. Lied to. And he'll make both our lives hell."

He had a point. James's vindictive streak was legendary.

"When you say 'we tell him,'" I said carefully, "what exactly would we tell him?"

"The truth. That we spent one night together before we knew who each other was. That you're pregnant. That we're handling it like adults."

"He'll think I did it on purpose. To trap you."

"Let him think what he wants."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who'll be called a—"

"Don't." His hand came to rest on my knee. Warm. Steady. "Don't finish that sentence. Anyone who says that about you will answer to me."

The protectiveness in his voice made my breath catch.

"Alexander—"

"And there's something else." He stood, moving to the window. Putting distance between us again. "We need to address the living situation."

Here we go. "I told you, I'll find an apartment."

"And I told you, not on your salary. Not anywhere safe."

"So what do you suggest?"

He turned to face me. "Move in with me."

I'd expected it. Had known it was coming since Saturday night. But hearing him actually say it still stole my breath.

"That's insane."

"Why?"

"Because you're my boss. Because you're James's father. Because we barely know each other. Because—"

"Because you're scared." He said it gently. Not an accusation. Just truth.

"Of course I'm scared! This is—you're—we're—" I couldn't finish.

"I know it's unconventional. But think about it practically. I have space. Security. Resources. You'd have your own room. No pressure. No expectations. Just—safety. For you and the baby."

"People will talk."

"They're already talking. Might as well give them something real to talk about."

I stood, needing to pace. "This is crazy."

"Probably."

"We don't even like each other."

"Don't we?" His eyes were intense. Knowing.

"We don't know each other."

"Then we'll learn. We have seven months."

Seven months. Until the baby came. Until everything changed forever.

"I need time to think," I said.

"Of course." He pulled a key from his desk drawer. "But take this. Just in case."

It was a key card. For his building.

"Alexander—"

"Please. Just take it. If you need somewhere to go. If something happens. If James gets worse. Just—take it."

I took the key card. It felt heavy in my hand. Like possibility. Like commitment.

"I should go," I said.

"Wait." He caught my hand. "How are you really? Not the polite answer. The truth."

The concern in his voice nearly undid me.

"Tired. Nauseous. Scared. Overwhelmed."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know. This is all so—"

"Complicated?"

"That's an understatement."

He smiled. Actually smiled. It transformed his face. Made him look younger. Less CEO, more Alex.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Together."

Together. The word felt like a promise.

I left his office with the key card burning a hole in my pocket and my heart doing complicated things in my chest.

Tomorrow I'd deal with James and work and keeping this secret.

Tonight, I'd go back to Sarah's apartment and pretend I knew what I was doing.

But someday—maybe soon—I might use that key card.

And then everything would change.

Again.