Page 60 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

I swallowed hard, hating their frat-boy chatter. The elevator light ticked down floor by floor. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight…

“Golf’s good as well, because if it rains you can’t play. You go to the club and you have a nice meal; you do your business, no need for games.”

“But you’ve got all your golf clubs you’re lugging around.”

The receptionist called out, “Excuse me? Ex-cuse me!” I stiffened and glanced at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was waving at a man in a blue pinstriped suit, holding up a billfold. “Sir? You lost this.”

The elevator dinged and the suits all got on. I got on with them. The golf-hater scowled at me.

“Miss? Which floor?”

I coughed, dry-mouthed. Which floor was Sam’s office? Wouldn’t the big boss be at the top?

“Top floor,” I said. The doors slid shut. We rode up at a dizzy pace, stopping twice in the upper floors to let off one of our number. The rest of us got off on the top floor, which I realized with a jolt wasn’t quite the top. I spied two more elevators, one just like ours. The other was locked behind a card reader, and that one went up one more floor. If Sam was on that floor, I really was sunk.

“Could you press ten for me?”

I jumped. “Sorry, what?”

A woman had come up on me with her arms full of boxes. She bounced them to show me her arms were full. “Press ten for me.”

I pressed ten for her and got out of the way. If Sam was on this floor, where would he be? The lobby had been swanky, decked out to impress, but this floor looked mostly like what it was. A floor in an office tower, boring and gray. I followed a series of discreet brushed steel signs promising conference rooms and suites A through E. Maybe Sam was in one of the suites.

“Lana?”

I whirled, and he was behind me. He looked like I remembered him, but at the same time, he didn’t. He’d combed his hair different and put on a suit, and he had a headset like the receptionist. I hadn’t been hoping he’d look bad, exactly, but it felt strange to see him looking so fine. So clean-cut and glossy, like nothing could touch him. Like I hadn’t touched him or changed him at all.

“It is you,” he said. A smile tugged at his lips. “What are you doing here? Can I?—”

“Sam. There you are.” One of the suits from before hurried up. He touched Sam on the arm. “He’s waiting in four.”

“Two minutes,” said Sam. I wilted inside. I’d come all this way and all I got was two minutes? He turned back to me, harried, impatient. “I’m sorry. Can we, uh… Can you come back in an hour? Or, there’s a café?—”

“I’m pregnant.”

“—down the street, and I’ll… What?”

I couldn’t say it again, so I said nothing. He’d heard me. I could tell by his eyes bugging out of his head. He would’ve looked funny if it weren’t all so sad.

“I’m sorry. Did you just say you’re?—”

“Sam!” His carbon copy popped out of a meeting room, same suit, same haircut, same douchey headset. “Sorry, I didn’t see…” He looked me up and down, then appeared to dismiss me. “Anyway, he’s waiting.”

“Coming,” said Sam. His eyes had gone glassy. “Look, it’s my dad’s official last day.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “What are you saying?”

Sam stepped away, not meeting my eyes. “Wait here, okay? Just, uh… just wait. My assistant can get you a drink or some lunch. Have her order you something. Whatever you want.” He backed away as he spoke, and into the meeting room. I stood dumbfounded, gaping as the door swung shut. Anger lanced through me, an icy-hot spear.

“Sam!”

No answer. The gray door stayed shut.

“Sam, are you serious? Are you, are you…” I trailed off, feeling stupid. People were staring. And I had my answer, didn’t I? I’d told Sam I was pregnant and he’d walked away.

I turned away myself, back the way I’d come. I went slow, still hoping he’d change his mind, but I pressed for the elevator and he didn’t come. It dinged up floor by floor and nothing. No Sam. This was his life, white walls and meetings. This was what mattered to him, not us, not me. Not even his child. I blinked back tears.

The elevator slid open and I got on. I reached for the button, but I didn’t press. I held my breath waiting, but nothing. Silence. Sam didn’t come and the steel doors slid shut, and the car started down without my input. I was back in the lobby in under a minute, swept down, spat out, out of Sam’s world. The receptionist spotted me and half-rose from her desk.

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