Page 97 of The Bonus

I blink in surprise. “No.”

“What about my terrace in Manhattan, then? I thought you may prefer that one, it is only four bedrooms, though, and it doesn’t have as good a view.” He thinks for a moment. “And the commute to my place will take longer in peak hour traffic. No…I think I would prefer you in Park Avenue, it’s a two-story penthouse, it’s a lot bigger and closer to my place.”

“I’m not moving anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kids’ lives are here. Their friends and school are here.” I shrug. “I’m not moving them anywhere.”

“Yes. You are.”

“No. I’m not.” I feel my temper begin to rise. “You can’t just barge in here and demand that I move back to New York. You have no say in where we live.”

He narrows his eyes. “I want and will be taking fifty percent custody of my children. With or without your permission.”

“Your children?” I cross my arms as my temper prepares to blow. “That’s a joke, right?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he whispers angrily. “I have the paperwork to prove it.”

“You made it very clear the night they were conceived that it was a seminal transfer.”

His eyes flicker with fury.

“You are a sperm donor and nothing more.”

“How fucking dare you,” he hisses. “You walk into my office late at night after a Christmas party and seduce me on my desk. Strategically fall pregnant. Carry my child in secret for nine months, give birth to not one but two of my children and never once call to let me know.” He stands. “Who the fucking hell do you think you are kidding with this Pollyanna act. And while we are at it, how dare you name my son Dominic?”

“What did you want me to call him?”

“Gabriel.”

“I know a Gabriel, and it turned me off the name.”

“You can talk, you’re a deceiving witch who is using my children as a weapon against me.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out,” I whisper angrily. “We don’t want you here.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“And that’s how it should stay. Go home to your fiancée, Gabriel. Start again, have a million Italian babies with her.”

He glares at me. “I’m organizing the move.”

“Go to hell.”

“You want to do this?” He raises an eyebrow. “You really want to push me, because I can go for full custody if that suits you better.”

“And there it is,” I whisper angrily. “I knew it was coming. Get the fuck out right now.”

“You cannot stop me from seeing them.”

“I never said I was. If you want to build a relationship with them, you come here to do it. You are the adult; you are the one who needs to make the effort. You have a private jet, for fuck’s sake, you can fly in whenever you want.”

“I want them closer.”

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