Page 82 of Maverick

I winced. “I don’t know. I’m panicking, okay? He wants to get closer. Tonight might be the night we… go further. You thought so yourself. I could pass it off as his, eventually. Or just let him believe I was pregnant from him, if he never questions the timing.” My face burned with shame. “God, I feel awful even thinking it.”

She sighed. “It’s a big decision. Don’t do anything rash, Lex.”

Tears spilled again. “I’m so lost. I just want some semblance of normal. And I guess Mark offers that.”

We clung to each other for a while. My phone dinged, reminding me I needed to finish getting ready. Mark would pick me up soon. I pushed the pregnancy test deep into a drawer, trying not to think about the momentous truth it confirmed.

Chapter 42

Mark arrived in a sleek black town car, courtesy of the firm’s private driver. I rode with him to an upscale restaurant near the art museum. Candlelit tables, plush red booths, a hushed ambiance that made even the clink of silverware sound elegant. He guided me in with a hand at the small of my back, offering a polite but warm smile.

Everything about him was polished and controlled.

We settled into a corner booth. The soft glow of chandeliers bathed his neatly parted hair. A waiter appeared, rattling off specials. Mark ordered a bottle of fine wine for himself. I discreetly asked for water, citing an upset stomach, and we perused the menu. My appetite was nonexistent, but I managed to nibble some bread.

“You look stunning,” Mark said, his eyes sparkling. “That dress suits you perfectly.”

I mustered a small smile. “Thank you.”

He reached across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against mine. “How are you feeling this evening, Lexi? Any… trouble with Marciano’s men?”

An icy chill ran through me. He always did that, bringing up the mob so casually. “No trouble. I’ve been left alone, actually.”

Aside from the ominous knowledge that they’re only leaving me alone because I signed my freedom away.

He nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Good. I want you to be able to focus on your career. I’ve recommended you for that big corporate case next month. We’ll be working side by side, if you’re interested.”

I swallowed. “Oh. That’s… good news.” If I could keep this pregnancy under wraps.

The waiter arrived with our orders, mine delicate salmon, Mark’s a rare steak. As we ate, Mark steered the conversation to the firm’s upcoming deals, dropping hints about potential promotions. He even joked about me possibly joining him and his father on some high-profile client negotiations.

Meanwhile, my mind was a drift.

I was pregnant with the baby of a man I once believed could be my future, and here I was playing perfect date to my boss, which would be a problem in itself if Mark didn’t also own the firm with his father.

After dinner, he led me to a small private lounge tucked behind the bar, ordering dessert drinks. I declined the rum cocktail, opting again for water. He didn’t question it. We talked about law school memories, sharing anecdotes about clueless professors and late-night cram sessions. He laughed easily, leaning in closer with each exchange, his knee brushing mine under the table. He was charming, in that smooth, practiced way.

I kept seeing Maverick’s face in my mind, sudden flashes of his crooked grin, the rough stubble on his jaw, the warmth of his calloused hands. Every time I compared him to Mark, my stomach rocked with guilt. Mark was refined and considerate.

Maverick was raw, passionate. And gone.

“You okay?” Mark asked softly, noticing my distant gaze.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

He offered me his hand. “Then let’s head to my place. I have a big comfy couch, if you want to crash, or a bed.” His tone teased. “Up to you.”

My heart fluttered. This is it, I realized. He was inviting me to cross that line. Should I do it? Some part of me insisted I needed a stable partner if I was carrying a baby. Another part screamed it was wrong, that I still loved someone else. But that someone else had vanished into the wind.

He’s not here, and I’m alone.

“All right,” I said quietly. “Let’s go.”

Mark’s mansion sat in a gated community on the upscale side of town. Massive wrought-iron gates swung open at our approach, revealing a winding driveway lined with sculpted hedges. The house itself was a three-story modern affair, all glass and concrete, with an interior courtyard lit by artfully placed spotlights. My mouth went dry.

This was wealth on another level, like something out of Luxury Living magazine.

The car pulled into the circular driveway, and the driver let us out. Mark opened my door, taking my hand to help me out of the back. The front door opened onto a marble-floored foyer, high ceilings, a sweeping staircase with a glass banister. Modern art pieces stood on pedestals. The entire space felt cold, echoing our footsteps.

---