Page 84 of Maverick

He smiled, snuggling me against his chest. I stared at the ceiling.It’s done, I thought. The final line had been crossed. Now maybe I could pass off the baby as his. Guilt and sadness warredin my chest. I willed myself to sleep, pushing away the image of Maverick’s face that threatened to break me all over again.

Time blurred. Mark and I fell into a routine of office flirtation and regular dates. I kept sleeping with him, though my heart never truly engaged. My body finally was, and my heart would open to him eventually. At least the arrangement seemed stable, no gunfights, no betrayals, just the everyday drama of big law. My belly started to feel strange, a faint swell I hid under looser blouses.

Finally, I couldn’t dodge the truth any longer. I was definitely pregnant, and I needed to tell Mark before he suspected something else. I couldn’t go to a doctor and leave a trail until he knew. The day I decided to break the news, we were in his office, a spacious corner suite with a view of the city, a much better view than my apartment had. He was wearing an impeccable navy suit, flipping through a contract. I stepped in, closing the door behind me.

“Got a minute?” I asked, trying not to wring my hands.

He glanced up with a smile. “For you, always. What’s on your mind?”

I drew a shaky breath, taking the seat across from his massive desk. My hands twisted in my lap. “I, uh… I need to tell you something. It’s serious.”

Concern flickered in his eyes. “Everything okay? Is Marciano pressing you for more?”

I swallowed. “No, not that. It’s… I’m pregnant.” The words dropped like a stone in a still pond.

He froze, blinking. “Pregnant?” Slowly, he stood, coming around the desk. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, my eyes watering up for all the wrong reasons. “Positive. I’ve taken a test. I… I haven’t been to a doctor yet, but I’m certain.” I exhaled erratically. “And before you ask, no, I don’t want to get married. I’m not trying to trap you.”

Mark’s face shifted from shock to something softer, almost relieved. “So you’re not… you don’t want me to propose?”

I managed a hollow laugh. “No. I’m not ready for that. Marriage is a big step, and we barely know each other. I just… thought you should know. Since we’ve been… involved.”

For a moment, he stared at me, his expression inscrutable. Then he reached out, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Lexi, I’m… I won’t lie, I’m surprised. But I’m also happy, in a strange way.” He paused, lips curving into a small smile. “You’re carrying my baby?” The question lingered in his tone.

I swallowed. “Yes. We’ve been sleeping together for a month or so. It makes sense. I’m sure it’s yours.” The lie tasted bitter. But I stuck to it. “You could ask the mob if they’ve seen me with anyone else.” He didn’t need to know the truth, that Maverick had fathered this child a month before I ever let Mark into my bed.

Mark’s shoulders relaxed, and he moved closer, laying a gentle hand on my abdomen. I resisted the urge to flinch. “Nonsense. I know you haven’t been with another man. I’m just, I’m stunned. It’s hard for us, men in my family. That’s why I have a twin brother. You’ve met Max. My mother had to do IVF… I’m not demanding marriage,” he said softly. “But I do want to be a father, if you’ll let me. We can figure out the details as we go. I won’t push you away or make you do this alone.”

Tears welled, half relief, half guilt. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I appreciate it.”

He smiled, guiding me into a loose hug. “I’ll do whatever it takes to win your heart, Lexi. We can keep it discreet at the firm for now, if you prefer. No sense stirring gossip.”

I nodded numbly, leaning into his chest. “Yeah, let’s keep it quiet. I just… I need time to process.”

Time to bury the memories of the biker who truly fathered this baby.

He held me a moment longer, stroking my hair. Outside the window, the city glimmered, oblivious to my tangled secrets. As he whispered reassurances about co-parenting and we talked about setting up prenatal appointments, I felt tears slip down my cheeks, silent, salty reminders of a past that refused to be erased.

“I’m just so happy,” I said, explaining the tears away.

I was carrying Maverick’s child, passing it off as Mark’s. A fresh ache bloomed, but I let Mark’s gentle words soothe me. Because what else could I do?

Chapter 43

I smoothed my hand over my swollen belly, feeling the gentle curve that had finally become obvious in the last month. Four months pregnant. Nearly halfway. The doctor had said with a smile. Every day, I felt the slightest bit heavier, my balance shifting. I’d catch glimpses of my reflection in shiny office doors or mirrors and think,That’s me.A soon-to-be mother, forging through life at a prestigious law firm that, ironically, had ties to Marciano and the mob.

I stood in my cubicle, tapping a pen against my notepad. Outside the tall windows on the twentieth floor, the city sparkled under the afternoon sun. My desk was cluttered with case files, Post-it notes, and a half-eaten sandwich I couldn’t stomach finishing. The baby had me craving odd things, but mostly I just felt nauseated at random times. I took a breath, steadying myself.

My baby, the baby that belonged toMaverick. The biker I hadn’t heard from in months. The real father who probably believed I’d moved on.Well, I had,in a way. Mark, my boss, had swept me into his orbit, wooing me with fancy dinners and lavish gifts, calling mehis girlfriend.He’d been surprisingly sweet, pulling out chairs for me, offering foot massages when I complained of swollen ankles, insisting I rest at every opportunity. At least once a week, we’d end up at his mansion or my apartment, having dinner, sipping tea, or, before I was too nauseated, making love in that hollow, mechanical way thatnever quite replaced what I’d felt for Maverick. But it wascomfortable.Safe.

Yet guilt gnawed at me. He believed this growing bump washischild, that we’d somehow conceived it in those early times we fooled around. I’d lied by omission, letting him think it was possible. I told myself it was for the baby’s sake, to secure a father figure in case Maverick was truly gone forever. But the mass on my conscience grew each day, matching the bulk of my stomach.

Worse, I’d noticed signs that Mark intended to propose. He’d dropped hints about “the future,” and how “wedding should be small, intimate.” I’d pretended not to understand. But a few days ago, rummaging in his desk for a pen, I stumbled upon a black velvet box. Tiny, discrete, but undeniable. My chest had seized in panic.I can’t do this.How could I marry him under the pretense that he was the father, when I carried that biker’s child in my womb?

I set down my pen, exhaling shakily.I have to tell him. Tonight.Or maybe right now. The day’s tasks weighed on me, but I couldn’t focus on legal briefs or depositions.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen.Nova.Perfect timing. I grabbed it, ducking into the hallway, then slipped into the ladies’ restroom for privacy.

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