Page 1 of Dante
Chapter 1
The silence stretched between them, the tension as thick as gravy. She had been right to think that this wasn't going to be a happy ever after ending and was now living the cliched ending to her relationship.
"I thought you would be happy." Her voice sounded dull, her expression dazed. The evidence of her pregnancy stood between them, literally. She had placed the sticks, all three of them, on the table in the middle of the room. He had chosen to sit on the sofa across from her. There had been so many signs, but she had refused to acknowledge them.
"Why would you think that?" Impatient and uncomfortable, the man she had been seeing for more than a year shoved off the sofa and started pacing the length of the room.
"This is your problem, Courtney, not mine." He whirled towards her, dark eyes blazing. "You should have seen to it that you were protected."
Refusing to give in to the humiliation and awful hurt, she gathered up her dignity and looked him straight in the eye.
"You son of a bitch. I did not get myself pregnant."
"I used protection." He waved a hand and eyed her warily as the anger surfaced. Courtney Vernon was no pushover and had a formidable temper.
"Look, I'm not saying that it's not mine."
He stepped back and sucked in a breath as she rose slowly.
"If you start throwing things..."
"Get out." She lifted a shaky hand and pointed at the open doorway. "You miserable excuse for a man. Get the hell out of my house, and if I ever see you around, I'm going to sic my brother on you."
His expression hardened at the veiled threat, and he could feel the sweat pooling under his armpits. He hesitated, jaw clenched as if considering a retort, but her glare was enough. The threat of her brother, tall, broad-shouldered, with a reputation for settling scores, hung in the air like an axe about to fall.
Michael scooped up his keys from the coffee table, but not before casting a final, unreadable look at her. For a moment, Courtney thought she saw confusion flicker across his face, guilt or even fear. But then he shut himself down, the mask slipping back over his features.
"Baby, be reasonable." He tried for persuasion, watching her closely. "We never discussed having a child." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "You just got this amazing job offer, and I'm on a fast track to becoming a partner in my law firm."
What he did not tell her was that the fast track meant cozying up to the boss' daughter. Which he had been doing for the past three months. He had a chance to make something of himself, and by God, he was not going to let something like an unplanned pregnancy stop him. He cared about Courtney, and he had to admit that she was a beautiful woman, but he had his priorities. And he did not want children. Never did.
He tried for a charming smile. "Why don't we think on this, and when you decide what to do, I'll listen. I'll even spring for half the amount to get rid of it." He gestured to the sticks. "You're only two months."
Her blazing eyes had him backing off and shutting up.
"Call me when you decide." He added as he beat a hasty retreat.
The door closed with a heavy thud, reverberating through the walls and her chest. The only sound left was her own ragged breathing, the clock ticking, and the metallic clatter of the pregnancy tests as her hands began to tremble.
Alone, Courtney let herself sag onto the arm of the sofa. Anger pulsed hot in her veins, but beneath it was something colder, a hollow where hope used to be. She pressed her palms to her eyes, willed herself not to cry, and inhaled the scent of rain on the pavement outside. Not a happy ending, she thought grimly, but maybe, just maybe, the start of something else.
Sitting there, with the sight of the rain sliding along the windowpane, she recalled the interview only a week ago. Ellen Carstairs was the outgoing administrator for the CEO of Livingston Enterprises and had been the one to recommend her.
"Mr. Livingston has left the hiring entirely up to me." She was a prim and tidy woman with graying dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes that saw everything. And she had been working for him for the past twenty years.
"I would not be leaving my position if my sister had not taken ill. She's declining rapidly and needs someone to take care of her." Her eyes had sized up the coolly beautiful woman seated across from her in the large conference room for a minute. "He's a difficult man, but a fair one. He wants things done a certain way and does not tolerate tardiness or mistakes. I have learned to anticipate his needs."
She worried the pearls around her neck, long fingers with unpainted nails slightly restless. "I know you, Courtney. You and your brother have proven to be exemplary examples of ambition and hard work." A smile curved the woman's stern lips, softening her features. "When you both came to live with me for those six months before you both went off on your own, it was a joy to watch you survive an impossible and what could have been a tragic situation."
Her expression sobered.
The silence in her living room seemed to solidify, thick, tangible, pressing on her from every direction. For a long moment, Courtney stared at the rain, unable to move, the old couch's faded cushions swallowing her limbs. Grief, for everything she might lose and everything already lost, mingled with the wary excitement of possibility. The world had closed a door, but that left her facing a window, and it was open just a crack.
She drew a shaky breath and allowed her mind to drift back, not to Michael and his hollow words, but to that conference room and the faint scent of old books and lemon polish. Ellen Carstairs sat across from her, an emblem of crisp competence, her eyes kind but unyielding.
"You remind me of myself when I was your age," Ellen had said, voice softened by memory. "Determined, a little too proud, but ready for challenge. If Mr. Livingston gives you trouble, stand your ground. He'll respect you more for it. And remember, you're not alone. Sometimes the people you think least likely will surprise you."
A beat of vulnerability flickered across Ellen's face then, quickly masked, and Courtney realized that strength often came disguised in the quiet gestures of those who had weathered storms. She remembered the way Ellen's hand had trembled when she mentioned her sister. The cracks in someone's armor were always there, if you looked close enough.
