Page 29 of The Billionaire Alpha's Surprise Baby

It’s still dark when I wake up and roll over to find a better position. Garrett’s bed is far more comfortable than my lumpy old mattress, but being pregnant, I have all kinds of aches and pains that keep me up at night.

I expect to feel Garrett as I shift closer to the center, but the sheets are cold against my skin.

I sit up. His side of the bed is empty. Garrett is gone.

Sliding out from under the covers, I pad into the huge en suite bathroom, but he isn’t there, either.

Thinking he must have gone downstairs, I fumble around in his closet for a pair of his sweats and quickly pull them on. They smell like Garrett, and I breathe in his scent — clean citrus mixed with sandalwood.

A light is on in the living room when I reach the first-floor landing. I tiptoe into the room to surprise Garrett but stop dead in my tracks.

A woman is reclined in one of the ultra-modern chairs, reading a magazine in a pair of silk pajamas. Shiny blond curls cascade over her shoulders, her manicured feet are bare, and she’s sitting with one leg propped up on the back of the chair.

A glass of red wine rests on the floor in front of her. Whoever she is, she lives here.

I edge my way slowly out of the room, hurt and panic panging in my chest.

What if Garrett is already married and I’m the other woman? It’s a crazy thought, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would she be here?

My feet are silent on the plush white carpet, but the blond notices me anyway. She looks up from her magazine and stares at me with a serene, almost bored expression. “Oh, it’s you.”

I swallow. She speaks as though she knows who I am.

Her perfect lips stretch into a bland smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m Hyacinthe, Garrett’s sister.”

“His sister?” I rasp, my whole body sagging in relief. She’s his sister — not his other girlfriend or his wife.

“And you are . . .”

“Oh. I’m Ava,” I say, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Even in pajamas, Garrett’s sister looks ridiculously chic, whereas I’m drowning in one of his sweatsuits. “Sorry, I . . . didn’t expect anyone else to be down here.”

“If you’re looking for my brother, he’s not here,” says Hyacinthe in a bored, annoyed tone, returning to her magazine and flipping the pages impatiently.

She glances up at me once again, and I notice her eyes are the exact same shade of blue as Garrett’s, though they lack any of Garrett’s mischief or warmth. “He left about an hour ago.”

I blink. “He left?”

“Mmhm.” She flips another page in her magazine before flicking her gaze back to me. “It’s just my brother’s way . . . He’s never exactly been Mr. Dependable. Try not to take it personally.”

I swallow to wet my parched throat, and Garrett’s words come floating back to me.

They’re not welcoming to outsiders.

They’d say you were just some trashy one-night stand.

They’d try to pay you to get an abortion — to use their money and influence to make this whole thing go away.

When that didn’t work, they’d resort to threats.

Suddenly, I’m seeing Hyacinthe’s artificial smile in a whole new light. She wants me to leave.

“Would you like for me to have Robert bring the car around?” she asks. “He can take you anywhere you need to go.”

Her question only confirms my suspicions, and my hands curl into fists as I draw myself up to my full height.

The change in position pulls the material of Garrett’s sweatshirt snug around my middle, and Hyacinthe’s gaze zeroes in on my belly. Her blue eyes seem to frost over, and I sense a shift in her demeanor.

“No. Thank you,” I say, as politely as I can manage. “I’ll wait until Garrett gets back. He can drive me home.”

---