Page 15 of Cruel Bratva King

Rather than relief, my pulse skyrocketed the moment they both left and shut the door behind them. What was the stranger’s reaction going to be when I told him? Of course, I wasn’t expecting him to be elated about the news. It wasn’t every day that your one-night stand turned up on your doorstep to tell you she was having a baby.

There was also the possibility that he was married, which was going to make this a hundred times worse than I anticipated. He was probably going to want to pay me off to abort the baby or try and force me to. I’d prefer the former, though. I wasn’t going to abort my baby, and although it would hurt my pride, I would take his money, move to another city and raise my child.

We would never get to meet each other afterward. I’d grown up as a catholic, and abortion was against my faith. Even if that wasn’t the case, I’d grown an undeniable bond with the child inside me, though it had been only a week since I found out.

I was growing dizzy from overthinking, but then, I had always been an overthinker. I created multiple scenarios in my head before they actually happened. That was my way of coping with reality and not being surprised when things happened.

The only thing I never overthought was paying my monthly rent into my exes' account without a second thought, and look where it led me—duped and almost homeless. I was going to kill that asshole the next time I saw him, but first, I had to survive this situation.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked, bathing me with his scrutiny and making me even more anxious.

“I am.” I forced a nervous smile. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Sure.” He gestured towards the mesh chair the big guy had gotten up from. “Forgive me for not offering sooner.”

One thing about my stranger baby daddy was that he was a gentleman. I wondered if he would remain so when he found out the reason I was here. All men were the same. I didn’t expect anything special or different.

“Thank you.” I walked to the mesh chair and sat on it. I clammed my sweaty palms together and started picking my nails, a habit I had developed to deal with my anxiety since I was a teenager. Most kids would hide under their beds when their parents fought or run out of the house, but I was different. I would stand outside the door and watch them while biting my nails because my limbs were too tense and heavy for me to move.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he cocked his brows, anticipating my answer. “And how did you know this place was mine?”

Another forced grin. “I didn’t,” I answered honestly. “I described what you looked like to the bouncers outside of the club, and they pointed me in this direction. Do you mind that I did that?”

Something that resembled a smile flickered on his face for a second as if he was proud of me. I could smell the scent of his musky perfume from where I was seated. My God, he smelled so fucking good. So fucking intoxicating.

It didn’t help that he looked like a Greek God, carved out of fine clay by Eros himself. His arms were propped on the desk in a way even his black buttoned shirt couldn’t hide the muscles on his arm. His dark, curly hair shimmered under the overhead light. He had such good hair. I bet it smelled like baby oil.

Now is not the time, Lilianna. Get a grip on yourself, girl.

“No, I don’t,” he said simply. “I’m amused instead. I was even more amused that you snuck out that morning and that I didn’t get the chance to treat you to breakfast.”

My cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment remembering how I’d snuck out like a thief. But I’d saved us the awkwardness and weirdness that came after a one-night stand, so I didn’t regret it. “I’m sorry. I had to get to work that morning, so I couldn’t wait for you to wake up,” I lied.

“Speaking of, how did it go with your landlord and boss?”

My stomach fluttered even more. He just caught my life, and he was letting me know he had. I’d forgotten I told him I was fired and jobless at the time. Another thought flashed through my head. If he remembered everything I told him, did that mean he…did he have something to do with everything that happened?

“You remember?” I squeezed the question out of my throat with a struggle. “I was called back to work the following morning, and my landlord told me I could keep working for the firm. Did you have something to do with it?”

He didn’t give me an answer. Instead, the corners of his lips quirked in a smile that vanished instantly. “How about a drink?” He stood from his chair and walked to the mini fridge at a corner of the office, pulling out a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

When he returned to his desk, he placed the glasses on the mahogany table, filled the glasses, and pushed one over to me. I stared at the glass like it was a lifelong enemy of mine. I needed as much liquid courage as I could get from the alcohol right now, but I couldn’t risk hurting my baby.

“You’re not drinking,” he noted, glancing back and forth between me and the shot glass. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re afraid of.” He swirled his own glass before pouring the liquid in it down his throat.

“It’s not that.” I paused for a moment to catch my breath. “I don’t think you poisoned it.” He had no reason to poison me, but I was about to give him a possible reason to. “I can’t drink.”

He refilled his glass. “You drank very well the other night.”

“I can’t drink because I’m pregnant.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. The air hung between us for a minute, tense and suffocating. I stared down at my palm. Still, I could feel his stare set me ablaze. I’d already let the cat lose, and I might as well complete what I started. “I’m pregnant with your child. Found out last week.”

“Are you joking right now?”

As if I would joke with something this serious. I wish I was joking, though. “I’m not.”

“How am I sure the baby is mine?”

I looked at him. I wanted to get angry at his question, but his concern wasn’t completely invalid. Neither of us was prepared for something like this, and a woman lying to a man that she was pregnant with his child is not uncommon. I would be stunned if he didn’t ask.

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