Page 12 of Oops Baby for the Billionaire
My head of security gestures at the report on my desk. “We searched through the guest list. There was no Willa in attendance.”
“You’re sure this is the complete list?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to review the security footage,” I snarl.
It’s on my computer screen five minutes later. All of it from that night. Every angle of the foyer, the elevator up to the penthouse, and the camera that captures a photo of every single person who steps into the executive apartment.
She’s not anywhere on the footage.
My mystery girl is gone. And if I didn’t have the trace of her virgin blood on the handkerchief in my pocket, I’d think she was a figment of my imagination.
I slam my fist against my desk, ignoring the ominous crack.
Chapter 7
Willa
Four weeks later
I didn’t wantto go looking for Roman again. I didn’t even look him up online until I missed my period.
And then I felt like a complete idiot.
I knew that the guy I hooked up with was definitely out of my league because he had his life sorted out. A career. A nice suit. Very talented with his tongue.
A career turned out to be the understatement of the century.
“What do you mean, I can’t make an appointment to see Mr. Thorne?” My voice shakes. “I need to see him. It’s…important.”
“Miss, it’s just not possible to—” The receptionist at Thorne International cuts herself off, pressing her hand to her earpiece. Then she takes a deep breath. “Miss, you can wait over there.”
“He’ll see me?”
She flicks a dismissive glance over my…everything. My frantic expression, my messy hair, my tired outfit.
And yes, I know there’s a streak of paint on my jacket, but I only own one and it’s getting cold. I pull it tight around me, feeling defensive.
“His head of security will see you,” she says. “And then probably escort you out of the building.”
That’s probably true.
The Thorne King is ruthless, people say.
My stomach turns, the now very familiar nausea bubbling up.
“Is there a restroom I could use while I wait?” I ask weakly.
She points to a sign near the elevators.
“Thanks,” I manage to get out before I dash in that direction.
I barely make it before I lose my breakfast.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, tears threatening. “Baby, stop it. We need to keep that food in our belly so you can grow big and strong, don’t you understand?”
Except it doesn’t understand. It’s not even a baby yet. It’s just a tiny little microscopic promise of a baby.
