Page 66 of Masked Seduction
I look down at the test in my hand, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “I’m not. Not really. Scared, yeah. But upset? No. I’ve always wanted kids. Just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”
Claire leans her head on my shoulder. “So you’re telling him?”
“I have to. If he’s not on board, I’ll walk. From the job. From him.”
Because this isn’t a maybe anymore. It’s real. And I’ve never felt more sure.
Claire watches me with the gentle best friend concern that always makes me feel like I’m ten years old and have just scraped my knee.
“Listen,” she says, “I’ll cancel my date with Tyler tonight. We’ll order Thai, binge something stupid on Netflix, and pretend your uterus isn’t secretly running your entire life right now.”
I smile, touched by her offer. “That sounds super tempting. But I’ve got a date with Abram. At his place.”
Her brows shoot up. “Oh? Athisplace?”
I nod, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s kind of become our thing lately—he likes to cook.”
Claire lets out a low whistle. “The terrifying, sexy Russian mob boss cooks?”
I shrug nonchalantly, but my shy smile gives me away. “He’s good at it, too. Like, really good. He says it’s stress relief.”
“That’s so hot I don’t even know what to do with myself,” she says, flopping dramatically back onto the couch.
I laugh before getting serious again. “It is. But honestly, I don’t know what we are exactly.”
Claire sits back up. “Girl. You’re sleeping with him. You’re going to his place for dinner. And you’re pregnant with his baby. If that’s not dating, I don’t know what is.”
“Exactly,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “And that’s the problem. I’m pregnant with his baby, yet I’m not even sure if I’m his girlfriend.”
Claire’s lips twitch into a mischievous grin. “Alright. I have an idea. A fabulous, shallow, gloriously girly idea.”
“Oh God.”
She ignores me, grabbing her keys. “There’s this cute-as-hell little boutique around the corner from here. Right next to a hair salon. You’re going to get a killer dress and a blowout, and you’re going to walk into Abram’s place making him determined to end this situationship you’ve got going and make it official.”
I start to shake my head, but she doesn’t let me speak.
“He won’t know what hit him. Maybe that will make it crystal clear what he’s about to lose if he doesn’t get his head out of his ass.”
I hesitate, chewing the inside of my cheek before nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
The boutique is small but packed with charm—exposed brick, minimal lighting, racks of vintage silky dresses and daring little numbers that would have terrified me a year ago. Claire pulls one out with a dramatic flourish.
“This.”
It’s a deep emerald green, the kind of green that makes my eyes pop and my skin look like I spent the weekend in Capri. The neckline plunges low, with delicate straps that crisscross at the back.
A few minutes later, I’ve got it on, stepping out of the dressing room. The bodice hugs my curves like a second skin, the hem hitting mid-thigh with just enough flare to flirt with modesty.
I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling a flicker of real confidence pulse through me.
Claire beams. “You’re going to kill him.”
I purchase the dress. Next, we move on to the salon. The stylist knows what she’s doing, giving me a soft, voluminous blowout with just enough wave to make me look like I wasn’t even trying. Add a little dewy makeup, a dab of highlighter on my cheekbones, and I look downright hot.
Claire grins as I step out of the chair. “If he doesn’t propose on the spot, I’m breaking his kneecaps.”
I laugh, heart fluttering for a different reason entirely.
