Page 39 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

“You weren’t in this morning’s meeting,” I say.

She frowns. “You’re not even going to ask if I’m feeling better?”

“I assume you are, since you’re here.” My voice is calm and collected, but a part of me knows I’m saying the wrong thing. Clearly, she’s going through something, and I’m just making it worse.

But it’s like I don’t know what to say except for exactly what’s coming out of my mouth. I don’t know how to switch gears and be a nice, supportive boss.

I clear my throat, knowing I need to try. “So how… how are you feeling? Any better?”

“I’m pregnant. With triplets. And they’re yours.”

I couldn’t be more shocked if an elephant were to appear on my desk. I stare at her, the words sinking in.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She bites her bottom lip. “It’s triplets, Jack. I had my first prenatal this morning, and they found three heartbeats.”

A guffaw slips from my throat, and it’s like a landslide. I can’t stop laughing.

Her face turns red. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”

I shake my head, still laughing. “You must think I’m really stupid.”

“Condoms fail,” she hisses.

My laughter dies down. “I don’t know what your game is, Leah, but you won’t pull one over on me. I can’t have children. I had a vasectomy years ago.”

She blinks at that but doesn’t seem defeated. “Vasectomies fail too.”

“And it’s extremely rare.” I fold my arms over my chest, surprised to discover my heart is beating unusually fast. “So if you are indeed pregnant, you’ve come to the wrong guy. The father must be some other man.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else in months,” she snaps.

My ears ring. She hasn’t been with any other men?

I like that news. A lot.

Which is odd, because I’m not typically possessive, and it’s not like I want Leah to be my girlfriend.

But she has to be lying. My vasectomy has been good as gold, and the chances of it failing years later are next to nothing.

“We’ll have a paternity test taken,” I decide. “That way we’ll know for sure.”

I expect Leah to snap at me again, to get angry, but that doesn’t happen. She just stands there watching me, looking…

Sad.

“I’ll take a paternity test,” she says, “but I have to say, I had a bit more hope for you.”

Her insinuation that I’m doing anything other than what’s completely inappropriate is low. Below the belt low.

“What is it you expected out of this?” I demand. “Money? Is that what this is about? You’re trying to get child support for some kids who aren’t even mine?”

Her eyes snap in anger at the accusation, and she takes a step forward, like she’s going to come at me.

But I don’t back down. I stay seated, glaring right back at her. If she wants to take the gloves off, then fine. We can fight this way, but she better be ready for what comes her way.

She stares at me for a long time, making me feel like I’m being appraised in some way. Like I’m being judged.

Which is laughable. I haven’t done anything wrong here. Once the test comes back, her lie will be exposed. She knows this, and she’s just trying to intimidate me and make me back down.

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