Page 25 of Faking With The Frenemy

“No, thank you. It would not be necessary,” I said. “I can find my way down. See you soon.”

I cleared customs and immigration easily and got a cab outside. “The Gates Hotel and Suites, please. Do you know it?”

I looked up and saw the driver staring at me, wide-eyed, through the rearview mirror. I cocked my head, annoyed, causing him to stutter. “So, sorry, miss. Yeah, I know The Gates.” He put the car in gear and sped off. “Sorry for staring earlier… you are very beautiful in a European way.”

I pointedly ignored him, keeping my eyes on the passing traffic. The last thing on my mind was the affectation of an NYC cabbie. Michael’s hotel was close to the airport, and the journey ended as quickly as it had started.

I paid and headed to the reception desk, hoping Michael had informed them of my visit. “Hello, good afternoon,” I said to a beautiful receptionist who was busy on the phone. She gestured for me to give her a moment, and I nodded.

I took the time to scan the lobby. It was massive and beautifully decorated, with gigantic marble pillars that went up almost thirty feet into a vaulted ceiling. The guests looked rich and important, everyone lounging or walking leisurely as if they collectively shared one understanding: there are not many people in the world who can afford a place like this. And they were probably right.

“Hello?” I turned back to see that the receptionist was off her call. “Oh, sorry, hi.”

“Good day, ma’am; welcome to The Gates Hotel and Suites. How may we serve you today?” She smiled with teeth that looked too white to be real.

“I’m Alessia… here to see Michael Gates. He’s expecting me,” I said.

“Oh, right this way, ma’am.” The receptionist scurried around and walked me to the elevator. Michael had informed his people to expect me.

I looked around as I approached the elevator. The lobby looked as big as a football field. Probably bigger. We got to the elevator, and the receptionist selected the penthouse button. After that, a panel slid open, and she input a six-digit code. She stepped back, ushering me in. I thought the access code was a little extra, but I held the thought.

The elevator opened into a short, carpeted hallway. There was a door to the side and a door at the end. The side door had an exit sign, so I walked to the door at the end of the hallway.

I pressed the bell beside the door, and the door clicked open a few seconds later. The entire day, I tried not to think about how I would feel when I saw Michael again. He stood in the doorway in a tank top and sweat pants, his hair ruffled and his glasses perched on his nose.

He stepped to the side and gestured me in. I stepped in quietly, diverting my eyes from his gaze. “I’m sorry about my appearance,” he said. “I was working out earlier and only just took a bath. Welcome.”

“It’s fine,” I replied quietly.

He turned around and walked back into his penthouse suite, not bothering to shut the door or walk me in. I shut the door quietly behind me, dropping my little bag on the floor. All the nervousness I had been keeping at bay flooded into me, and I had to interlock my fingers to keep them from shaking visibly.

His voice grated like ice when he spoke. It was clear I was a nuisance now, and the last thing he wanted was to see me. I could almost see his reaction when I told him I was pregnant. I could imagine the scorn.

He walked behind the full bar in the sitting room, spreading his hands on the counter. “So, what can I get for you? He asked without enthusiasm as if it was just a social obligation.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” My voice sounded smaller and smaller in my head, and I hated myself for not being bolder. “I have something important I need to talk to you about.”

He rolled his eyes and poured himself a shot of whiskey with rocks. “You said that on the phone, Alessia. What is so important that you had to take a plane from France to talk about?”

His tone was so dismissive. I stared at him, tired of caring what he thought. He could choose to walk away if he wanted to after he heard. “I am pregnant, Michael,” I said with a level voice. “I checked twice. The pregnancy is three months along, and I haven’t been with anyone since… you.”

I had come all this way to gauge his reactions when I dropped the news in his lap. I watched his every expression and reaction carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

With widened eyes, he stopped his whiskey glass midway to his lips. Slowly, he placed the glass down, his eyes fixed on me. He lowered his head and took a deep breath. Here we go, I thought. Show yourself.

He exhaled and locked his gray eyes with mine again. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“I am.”

He nodded, not saying another word. He poured the whiskey down his throat, wincing afterward. “Would you like to keep it?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“No, no, not that,” he said, raising his hands. “What I meant is...” he looked away and shuffled awkwardly. “What I am trying to say is this. I will raise the child with you as a family. Only if you want to keep it, so, would you like to keep it?”

I searched his face, coming up empty as I tried to read his expression. His answer had caught me completely unaware. I had not considered the possibility of him accepting the child. His response left me in shock, and I was unable to speak as he poured another glass of whiskey.

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