Chapter 4

Right before midterms, Adrian insisted on tutoring me at his penthouse.

His argument was that pregnant women needed proper rest, and he refused to let his assistant fail his course.

Wearing an oversized cotton shirt he'd lent me, I stared blankly at a pile of complicated economics models.

Adrian sat at a nearby desk, in the middle of an international video conference.

I stole a glance at him. He was impossibly attractive when he was focused.

If it hadn't been for that absurd misunderstanding, our paths would never have crossed.

Suddenly, a familiar cramping sensation hit my lower abdomen.

I frowned, assuming I'd just eaten too much at dinner, and tried to ignore it.

But the pain grew stronger, along with a sinking feeling of dread.

I jumped up and hurried toward the bathroom. The instant I stood, I knew something was wrong.

I forced myself to look down at the cashmere rug where I'd been sitting.

My period had arrived early.

My mind went blank with panic.

I had no pads, and this was Adrian's handwoven rug, the one reportedly worth six figures!

I clutched my stomach, sprinted into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it.

I was dead. Absolutely, completely dead.

I sat on the toilet and buried my face in my hands.

Footsteps approached outside, followed by Adrian's anxious voice. "Vivian? What's wrong?"

He must have seen the blood on the rug. His voice cracked with a panic I'd never heard before. "Vivian, open the door!"

I didn't dare make a sound. Tears pooled in my eyes.

BANG!

The bathroom door burst inward under the force of a kick. Adrian rushed in, one wireless earbud tumbling to the floor.

His usually immaculate hair was disheveled, his eyes wild with fear. "Where does it hurt?"

He dropped to one knee in front of me, his voice shaking. "Don't be scared. I'm calling 911. An ambulance will be here in minutes."

He pulled out his phone, but his fingers shook so badly that he misdialed several times.

Something clenched around my heart, hard.

I couldn't keep lying to him.

"Professor..." I covered his phone with my hand. "You don't need to call 911."

His head snapped up, his eyes bloodshot. "You're bleeding that much, and you don't want an ambulance? Have you lost your mind?"

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes like someone facing a firing squad, and said, "I'm not having a miscarriage. I'm just... on my period."

The air seemed to freeze.

The phone slipped from his hand and clattered against the tile.

He froze, his gaze drifting slowly from the hem of my skirt back up to my face.

"The lab report was Chloe's. I accidentally bound it into my assignment." The confession spilled out in a rush, my voice shrinking with every word.

"I'm not pregnant."