Page 3 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

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Jace

Did she seriously just faint during the surrogacy interview?

Interviewing at my office was a bad idea. I can’t believe Matteo, my second in command, this was his idea.

I should fire his ass.

One second, I’m talking, and she doesn’t appear to be paying attention to me. The faraway distant look made my stomach knot.

I’ve seen that look before.

My younger sister faints a lot. Unlike most people, I’ve learned to see the signs.

I leap out of my chair and catch Olivia on her way down to the ground before she can hit her head.

She blinks several times, staring up at me.

With her lying on the ground, I pull out my phone to call 9-1-1.

“That’s embarrassing,” she mutters under her breath. Olivia tries to pull away from me to stand.

“Just sit tight,” I say. “I’m calling an ambulance. You just passed out.”

“I’m fine,” she says as she sits up. “Please don’t call an ambulance.”

It’s hard not to worry, and I can’t afford to get sued. I don’t let her stand.

“Just stay there,” I insist. I crouch down to her level, keeping a close eye on her. The color is slowly coming back to her cheeks. I grab a bottle of water off my desk. It’s still sealed from this morning. I haven’t opened it for myself yet.

I twist the top off and hand it to her. “Drink,” I command. She needs to stay hydrated.

Her hands tremble as she brings the bottle to her lips.

“Do you pass out a lot?” I’m trying to make small talk. There’s no way she can be the surrogate for my child if she has health issues that lead her to pass out randomly in strange places.

She shakes her head and winces. “No, I didn’t eat breakfast.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly four in the afternoon. “What about lunch?”

She smiles, tight-lipped. “Skipped it.”

Why the hell hasn’t she eaten anything all day? “I think we’ve discovered the culprit,” I say.

How can she skip two meals? Is she worried about her weight? I try not to glance her over, but she’s got luscious curves. She doesn’t look like she’s starving herself, but what do I know? I’ve barely spent twenty minutes with this woman.

I reach for my phone, and she places a hand on my wrist. “Please, I can’t afford the medical bills.”

There’s desperation behind her tone. “Let me message one of my employees to get you something to eat,” I say. “It’s on me. Okay?”

She reluctantly nods.

Good, I’m glad I don’t have to argue with her and convince her to sit tight while I have to force a meal down her throat. That would be far less comfortable.

I cancel the original call and text Matteo.

Grab me some orange juice and a sandwich. The 3:30 just fainted in my office.

Matteo is typing back. Three dots flash on the screen before my stomach flops.

Your 3:30 surrogacy appointment was canceled a few hours ago.

Then who the hell is the girl in my office?

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