Page 40 of Her Impossible Boss's Baby

She couldn’t trust anybody. She never had, she was hardly going to start now not when she needed to keep her guard up the most.

She was vulnerable. More than she had ever been. She was growing a life, thank you very much.

And then she was going to have to figure out how to raise that life.

That made her falter internally. Because there were things about herself she wasn’t sure she had dealt with. Things that gave her pause when it came to the idea of raising a child. Because her child would depend on her. Her child was going to be learning about life from her, and...

She suddenly felt utterly, desperately unqualified.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“I’m overwhelmed. By the idea of raising a baby. By the fact that we’re married. You can understand that, surely.”

“Perhaps that’s true, but I also think you’re physically unwell.”

The car pulled up to the front of their building, and she began to unbuckle, but he got out of the other side of the car and rounded it, opening her door before she managed to free herself. Then he bent at the waist, and reached down to pluck her up from the car like she weighed nothing.

She wasn’t used to that. He had never touched her before that night in Singapore. And then, his touch had been decisive, and bracingly, unapologetically sexual.

But this was...

He was holding her like she was a fragile thing. Like she was precious. He had her head pressed against his chest, and she could hear his heart beating.

A reminder that he was a human man. Whatever she had said to him. However he sometimes behaved.

And she felt awash in guilt all over again. She had apologized to him once. But she wasn’t sure if she had meant it. Or if it had been about soothing her own guilt, rather than truly acknowledging that she had potentially caused him pain.

She knew him well enough to know that he was...so in control of everything around him that of course his biggest vulnerability was that which he wasn’t proficient at. She had stabbed him right there. Between the ribs. Right where she knew she could get to him.

And as he held her close, she felt...him.

His warmth. His strength.

She didn’t care that people were staring at them.

It didn’t really feel like there were any other people there at all.

She was dizzy, lightheaded. Maybe her illness was the cause of all of these feelings. Fizzing up inside of her.

Maybe it was them.

He held her, even in the elevator. They said nothing, and she was painfully aware of the sound of their breathing.

Of them.

Then they reached the top floor, and he whisked her out of the elevator, and into the penthouse.

He laid her down on the couch, and went into the kitchen, where he turned the tap which had instant hot water in it, and began to make her tea.

“Something herbal,” he said. “It will settle your stomach. You like cinnamon, don’t you?”

She did. Quite a bit. She usually got a sprinkle of cinnamon on top of her coffee. She often got a spice cake, or a pumpkin spice cake, or similar treat. She enjoyed a chai latte occasionally. What shocked her was that he knew that.

“I do,” she said. “How do you know that?”

“I have watched you eat these many years now, have I not?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I didn’t think...”

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