For a fleeting moment that night at Aubergine Affair, I imagined Margot getting pregnant with all of the cum I pumped into her. I even imagined her belly swollen with my baby. Insanity.

She was there to have a good first sexual experience and I sure as hell gave her one. That’s it. As the contract said, ‘no attachments’. I did my part. She did hers.

We’re done.

I’ll never confuse the issue again. My family means everything.

Three

Yulian

“Ididn’trealizeyouguys were coming.” Harper’s voice wavers.

“We have to congratulate our cousins and see the prized heir.” I force enthusiasm into my words.

Our cousins got Harper pregnant the same night we were with Margot at Aubergine Affair’s Virgin Night. The nasty twist of fate left our cousins with a kid, and my brothers and me tormented.

“He’s not a prized anything, just a baby.” Her eyes flit to Maxim.

He shifts uneasily. She knows he’s the most resistant to decreasing violence.

The baby wiggles in Harper’s arms and gives a small cry. I’m happy for Harper and my cousins, but the desire for a family of my own rages inside of me. Pretty useless, since I can’t get over Margot. How much would I give up to be with her? To produce a child with her? Has my brain turned her into a perfect fictionalized version of the woman at Virgin Night?

The way Harper holds the tiny bundle, the way she brushes his cheek with her finger and coos, unleashes a dam of emotions. I want that.

What is this burning in my chest? Jealousy? My heart races as I imagine I could have gotten Margot pregnant that night and she could be delivering my child.

Rushing out of the room, I pace in the hallway until the scent of roses catches me—Margot’s scent.

The fleeting moment of elation is dashed when I see the vase of roses at the nurse’s station.

Margot is nothing more than a hallucination. I have to figure out how to move on.

Storming over, I pull a rose out and bring it to my nose. Dammit, that’s the scent. The soft petals barely touch my lips, reminding me of her lips on mine. I brush my fingers over the petals. Her skin was even softer. Fuck!

I’m used to getting what I want. I want Margot. My strength becomes hard and brittle every day she’s not in my life.

“Are you a new dad?” A nurse startles me.

How did she get two feet away without me noticing? I have to get myself in check. “No, my cousins had a kid.”

“Do you have kids?”

“No.” I focus on the roses, lamenting that I’ll never be able to smell or see or even think of a rose without remembering Margot. She broke me.

“Are you single?”

“What the fuck does it matter?” I cast a knock-it-off glare at her then immediately regret taking my frustration out on an innocent woman.

She clenches a medical chart tightly to her chest, but remains undaunted. “Chill out. If you’re single, I was going to ask if you want to go out for a drink. Maybe you need a drink regardless.”

“Are you always this forward?”

“I kind of have to be. I work weird shifts. I see people for minutes at a time, sometimes. Emergencies happen way too often. So when I see something I want, I go for it.”

Would going out for a drink with her help me get over Margot? My chest is empty. I don’t even know where my heart is anymore. The nurse’s determination and bright red lips—both things I love in a woman—do nothing for me.

“You’re wasting your time on me.” I roll the stem between my thumb and fingers, and a thorn pricks my skin. Briefly giving attention to the blood, I squeeze my fingers on the bloom to put pressure on the wound.