Page 81 of Forbidden Boss (Manhattan Billionaires)

There were a few pieces that belonged in a museum. A vintage Alexander McQueen dress covered in thousands of hand-sewn fabric flowers, for example, was worthy of its own display mannequin. I didn’t even dare touch the fabric but clasped my hands at my breast in appreciation.

Her wall of shoes was a gorgeous, perfectly organized shelving unit with strategically placed lighting along every shelf. She had them split up by color and occasion, so they were almost an art installation instead of wearable garments.

It wasfun. We were two grown women—me in my thirties, her in her sixties—and we were acting like little girls who got to play dress-up. Her jewelry collection was a mix of costume and fine jewelry. The woman loved rings that were just shy of gaudy and earrings that dangled all the way to her shoulders. I wanted to be her when I grew up.

Things went wrong when I let out a breath and sat down on the round ottoman in the middle of the room as a wave of fatigue hit me. It had been sunny this morning, and I thought I was feeling the effects of being outdoors for longer than I was used to.

“And these are what I wore to my wedding,” Roseanne said, a soft smile on her face when she showed me a pair of white satin pumps with a simple gold buckle. “They cost me twelve dollars, and I love them best of all.”

I leaned back on my palms and smiled. “They’re beautiful, Roseanne.”

She gave me a strange look then and asked, “Have you and Rome talked about marriage?”

I coughed, caught out by her question. “I—um—no. Not… Not yet.”

She hummed. “And have you told him?”

Blinking, I tried to make sense of her question. “Told him what?” That I wanted to marry him? That would be a resoundinghell no, I hadn’t told him I wanted to marry him. He was still paying me for my presence, after all.

Roseanne gave me a look that was almost chiding, edged with fondness. She placed her wedding shoes back on the shelf in their place of honor and said, “About the baby, of course.”

The world tilted. My vision went wonky. Roseanne turned to look at me, and her face looked like a distorted caricature of what it had been moments ago. Somehow, I found my voice. “The what, now?”

She laughed and came to sit next to me. “Darling, you don’t have to pretend with me. I fell pregnant within a few months of being married to Wilbur, and I remember feeling all out of sorts. But you’d better tell him soon; otherwise, he’s in for a shock. Rome doesn’t seem like the kind of man who takes unexpected news very well.”

I let out the most awkward, half-assed laugh of my life. “I think you might be mistaken, Roseanne. I’m not pregnant.”

She arched her brows. “No? I could have sworn…” Her gaze narrowed on me. “I felt just like you do when I was early in my pregnancy. Exhausted beyond belief, a little queasy, having to use the bathroom seventy-three thousand times a day…”

“No,” I blurted. “No, that’s not it.” I shook my head and leaped to my feet. “Nope.”

Roseanne didn’t push it. She just inclined her head and said, “I’m so sorry to have presumed, darling. That’s my big mouth getting in the way again. Come on. Let’s go out to the patio and have a nice refreshing drink, just us girls. The chef makes fresh juice from the fruit from our orchards, and it’s to die for.”

She swept out of the room, and I had no choice but to follow her. I felt dizzy and nauseous and terrified.

What if…

No. There was no way. With every step, my horror grew. I hadn’t gotten my period in…a while. But my cycle was irregular, and I never tracked it. Maybe it hadn’t been that long? I rewound the weeks in my head and couldn’t remember ever having to wrestle with my period while wearing a designer gown or attending a fancy event. That was over two months without my cycle showing up.

I’d gone without my period for two months before. It didn’t mean I was pregnant.

We’d used condoms every time. We were feral for each other, but we hadn’t…

Horror dawned. The first time—the first time we hadn’t used a condom, because we hadn’t had one. At Garcia’s anniversary weekend getaway in the Hamptons, there were bodily fluids all over us. That was about six weeks ago.

But that wascrazy. I couldn’t get pregnant from that.

…Could I?

Roseanne settled me onto a lounge chair and called for fruit juice. I’m sure it was delicious, but I tasted none of it. I sat there, slurping down my juice made from the fruit belonging to a disgustingly wealthy couple, staring at the azure Caribbean water all around their private island, and felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

“You have a real talent with styling,” Roseanne said in the silence, making me jump. Her eyes slid over to study me, and I felt like she could read my panic like words flashing across my face. “Have you ever considered making a career of it?”

“A career?” My voice sounded flat.

“Many of my friends would pay you for what you just did down there. Not to mention having you at our side when we go shopping.”

“I don’t…”

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