Page 8 of Shark Bait

When the holiday decorations went up in Rome, I went online in search of tickets back to Nashville but ended up purchasing a pregnancy test because I remembered I never got my period. I found out I was pregnant.

I cried. A lot.

I couldn’t stay in the hotel, but I also couldn’t face my dad since I’ve been telling him I’m in a dorm. Besides, I live in a small town, and this pregnancy would devastate my parents and spread rumors, and it would make everyone’s life harder.

I wanted to call my brother, Denver, but the music agent wouldn’t let me.

He was becoming agitated and secretive, saying I knew too much and that he couldn’t let me go. That’s when Fis came into the picture. They agreed that Fis would keep me “safe” while his boss arranged for a high-ticket baby adoption.

I’ve never been more scared in my life, so I tried to run away, which earned me a few slaps across my face and a cot in a cage where the agent left me until Fis took over my “care” on a yacht.

Fis let me do whatever I wanted for as long as I behaved and got out of his way. But then my pregnancy started to show, and Fis got nervous. Real nervous. I think he shared some of his crew’s concerns. Like, why is the agent taking so long with the sale? How long were those among the rich and powerful who can’t legally adopt going to fight for a baby?

Tonight, while Shark’s in the shower, I’m proud of myself for sweeping all the substances off the living room table into a trash bag. Only last month, when I was having a particularly bad day, I walked by the table, wondering if I should just snort it all.

I didn’t because I’m trying.

I really am.

The baby helps me. When he kicks, he reminds me of why I should move on.

Hopefully, Shark will help too.

Before retiring for the night, he asked which of the six rooms was mine, and when I told him I slept wherever they didn’t, he said I could claim any room as mine for the duration of our trip. As a joke, I claimed the entire common area, but when Shark didn’t protest, I told him I wanted to sleep on the couch in front of the TV.

It’s after sunset now, and I’m eating popcorn while I watch a movie with that hot Henry Something actor when the burner phone on the counter rings. Quickly, I wipe my hands and leap off the couch but get dizzy from the sudden movement. I have to take a moment to steady myself before grabbing the phone off the tray and running toward Fis’s bedroom, which Shark claimed as his.

When I hear the water running, I burst into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of Shark Daddy under the shower, his hand between his legs, his muscles taut. He spins around, and my breath catches at the numerous scars on his hairless body. But that’s not why I can’t look away. The V his muscles make over his hips and the erection he’s sporting make me stare for longer than I should.

Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and the bottom lip trapped between his teeth as if he’s been biting it all point to the fact that I’ve interrupted his self-care session. By the time I recover, the phone has gone silent. Damn it.

“Pass me the towel,” Shark says in an even tone as if he’s not naked.

I hold out the phone. “Sorry about barging in on you,” I say, fear of repercussions lacing my voice. Fis wouldn’t have liked me intruding on his privacy. He was particular about that.

I open the cupboard and catch my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are as flushed as his. I’m embarrassed at catching him in the act. After living with twenty-eight men and being at the mercy of the man who promised me success in the music industry, I didn’t think the shy-around-guys girl was still inside me, but there she is, staring back at me from the mirror.Hey,I want to tell her,it’s nice to see you again.

Shark clears his throat.

Oh. His towel. I hand him one, and he dries himself with it before wrapping it around his waist. As he steps out from behind the shower glass, I stare at his erection, forgetting to move out of the way. His front bumps my belly. I look up to see that his eyes are still burning, maybe even more so than before.

“Did it ring?” he asks.

I nod and flip open the phone, then brush my thumb over the nine digits.Don’t dial. Dial it.

“Don’t even think about dialing,” Shark says firmly.

“I’m trying not to.”

“I know.” He takes the phone and checks the screen. “No number, of course.”

“I should’ve answered,” I say.

“I should’ve brought the phone with me, but there’s this gorgeous girl who’s distracting me from my work.”

I smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

Shark winks. “No, I think you’re gorgeous.”

---