Page 26 of Secret Bump

“I’m tired. And I need a shower. You made a mess of me.”

He gives me a wolfish grin. “I have a pretty nice shower you can use. And then we’ll have a nap. How are you eating? Any food aversions?”

“Umm…” I look out the window. “No, that part’s fine. I eat whatever I can afford.”

His expression immediately turns serious. “You won’t lack for anything now. I promise. I’m going to make this right. I know I fucked up the bookstore thing.”

“I like the bookstore,” I admit. And then something niggles at my memory. “Wait, did you have me work on some of that under the guise of research projects?”

He grins. “No comment.”

My eyes narrow. “Was it the coffee shop chain research?”

“God, you’re a smart cookie.” He goes to kiss me on the mouth, then stops and kisses the tip of my nose instead. “But I liked your presentation on that so much that I’ve also started the search for a real chain that matches the metrics you highlighted.”

“Really?”

Mack tells me in layered detail how he likes my work, which is a perfect distraction to the fact that I don’t know where his home is or how long it will take for us to get there.

It turns out, not that long at all.

The driver heads north, to a neighborhood of fancy estates not that far from the shopping district where the bookstore is. We pass manicured lawns and grand houses set back from the street, and then we turn through an oversized black gate and wind our way down a lane.

“We’re here.” Mack presses his face into my hair and breathes in. “I promise you, Isabelle, I won’t touch you again until you are ready. When we go inside, everything is at your disposal.Iam at your disposal. It’s important to me that you feel at home. I won’t deny you anything, little one. I will give you anything and everything you need.”

The limousine stops in front of a house so grand it hurts to look at. The driver comes around to the back door, and then Mack is easing me off his lap and out onto a pathway that feels better suited to a princess than an orphan.

The door swings open before we get there. Inside, a man and a woman are waiting for us. Even though they’re looking firmly at Mack, I can feel their curiosity.

“Is there something easy to cook for dinner?” he asks brusquely.

“Yes, sir,” says the woman.

“We’ll have the house to ourselves then until I let you know otherwise.”

“Very good, sir,” says the man.

“Isabelle, this is Cathy and Ian Millbank. They live on the grounds here and run the house. You’ll have a chance to get to know them better later.” Mack doesn’t return the introduction to the pleasant-looking couple, and they make themselves scarce before I find my voice.

With his hand firmly on my back in ano point in arguingkind of way, he guides me up a staircase that curves up around a glittering chandelier, then down a hallway that eventually leads to a suite overlooking a park. I mean, it’s probably just his backyard, but it looks massive and formal.

I don’t belong here.

Maybe there’s another reason I didn’t tell Mack—Mr. Emerson—that I’m pregnant.

I can’t stay here.

“Don’t think about running,” he growls from behind me.

My laugh sounds watery. “Will you lock the door and throw away the key?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Emotion wells up inside me and I close my eyes so tears don’t spill out.

The next thing I know, he’s wrapping his arms around me from behind, his face buried in my hair. “I know I fucked up, little one. Give me a chance here to make it right.”

I can’t shake my head no, but I can’t bring myself to nod, either.

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