Darkest Ecstasy (14 page)

If only.

He checked his watch.

“She'll be here at seven,” Angela said.

Seven o'clock. In less than a half hour, he would see her. Somehow he would have to keep his hands off her, and his head straight.

Drako. He needed Drako to get here pronto.

T
wo blue lines. There were two effing blue lines.

Two.

Not one.

One was good.

Two . . . two was soooo not good.

How the hell had this happened?

Technically, Michelle knew how it happened. Everyone over the age of five knew where babies came from. But she didn't understand how Tage's DNA had met with her DNA to produce the little person who was now growing inside her. They had had sex. Once. Unprotected sex. Almost two weeks ago. But he'd pulled out. That should have kept her safe.

Should have.

If it weren't for the fact that she hadn't been touched by another man in ages, she would have sworn he couldn't be the father. But it had to be him.

Two blue lines.
Ohmygod.

Now what? What the hell was she going to do?

Tage deserved to know he would be a father in roughly nine months. But he was marrying someone else in less than a week. And that someone else didn't deserve to be hurt. Angela had already given notice at work and had already turned over all her big clients, most of them to Michelle. Angela had even talked to an agent about putting her condo up for sale.

Shit, what was she going to do?

Abortion?

No. She just couldn't.

Adoption?

Her stomach lurched.

How could she give away her child?

She wrapped her arms around her waist and slowly sank to the floor. If this child was born, everything would be changed. Everything. Her future. Tage's future—he would be a father. Angela's future—she would be a stepmother.

Dammit.

Abortion.

Adoption.

No.

This was her baby. Her child. She would raise him or her, love him or her.

Tage. Angela. They needed to know. She had to tell them both. Tage first. Then Angela. But wasn't it better if she saw her doctor before she told anyone, just to make sure? Maybe the tests were wrong—all five. Maybe she had something else that mimicked a pregnancy? She could only hope. Wasn't it awfully early for a positive test? And what were the chances that he'd impregnated her when they'd had sex once, and he'd pulled out? A million to one? A billion?

Oh hell, who was she kidding? She was pregnant. The first test hadn't lied. Neither had the second, third, or fourth.

Hands trembling, she picked up her phone and dialed her doctor's phone number. After she made her appointment, she would go to Angela and Tage's engagement party and pretend nothing was wrong.

 

By seven o'clock, Talen was in absolute misery. His future wife, on the other hand, seemed to be in heaven. She was engaged in a lively conversation with Rin, Drako's wife. Drako and Malek were at the bar, getting themselves a couple of drinks to ease the tedium. Lei was with Malek, quiet, reserved, and still a little pale.

Michelle was standing next to her, trying to look comfortable when she clearly did not feel that way.

He checked on Angela. She was still jabbering away. Michelle, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide.

He went to her.

“I'm sorry about this,” he whispered, trying to pretend he didn't want to take her into his arms and kiss her until she couldn't speak.

“I would say it isn't your fault, because my being invited here isn't. But the rest of it is your fault. So, I'll accept your apology. Maybe.” She lifted her eyes to his. Dammit, did she have to look so fucking beautiful? Did she?

“I'm glad for that, then,” he said.

Her gaze jerking away from his, she whispered, “I needed to speak with you anyway. In private.” She nodded toward Angela and Rin. “I don't want Angela to hear what I have to say.”

“Okay. I'll call you later and arrange for a time—”

“No,” she cut him off. “I need to talk to you tonight. Now. Right now. Before I lose the nerve.” She hugged herself, hands grasping her arms tightly.

Could it be she'd had a change of heart? Was she wishing she had accepted his proposal after all? If that were true, what would he do? Breaking his engagement with Angela would no doubt hurt her. She'd told him she had made some changes at work. She was selling her home.

And yet... he could have Michelle as his wife. Sweet little Michelle.

“Please. It won't take more than a minute,” she muttered.

He glanced left. He glanced right. Now both his brothers and their wives were clustered around Angela. She probably wouldn't see them leave the room if they were quiet.

He had to hear what Michelle wanted to tell him.

He jerked his head toward the back exit. “This way.” Michelle nodded and followed him. He pushed out the rear exit, stepping into the cool, dimming evening. The sun had already sunk below the western horizon, but streaks of salmon still stained the sky, broken by dark indigo clouds. The dim light made Michelle's skin look silvery, iridescent as she turned to face him.

“I have something I need to tell you.” Her eyes dropped to her hands, clasped together in front of her body. She visibly swallowed.

What the hell was going on? “What is it?”

“I'm . . . Oh God.” She staggered back, clapped her hands over her mouth.

“What's wrong? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” Whirling around, she staggered several steps away, bent at the waist, and vomited.

He hurried to her side, gathered her hair in his fist, and wrapped an arm around her shuddering body for support as she heaved a second time. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the back door opening. A blade of light cut through the darkness to their right. Then the door slammed shut again.

As he held her little quaking, retching body, an almost overwhelming wave of protectiveness crashed through him. She was ill. What was she even doing here? Did she have anyone to care for her? Someone should drive her home and make sure she was okay.

When the gagging and retching stopped, she pushed out of his arms and lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You're ill. You should go home.”

“I'm not apologizing for that. I'm apologizing for ruining your wedding, your plans, your marriage.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, not following her. “You haven't ruined anything.”

“I'm pregnant.”

It took a few moments for the words to strike home, much like it took for pain to set in after taking a hard kick in the gut. But when they did, he was just as dizzy and breathless.

She added, “I thought you would want to know. I'm keeping the child. I'm guessing you'll want me to get an abortion, but . . . I can't do that. It goes against everything I believe in.”

A million thoughts raced through his mind. She was pregnant. Pregnant! With his child. It had to be his child, didn't it?

He didn't want to ask. Only assholes asked that question, but he needed to be sure. How could he put it so he wouldn't sound like a fucking jerk?

“It's yours,” she said as if reading his mind. “I haven't had sex with anyone but you in a long, long time.” She was shaking even more now, and he ached to gather her into his arms and tell her that he was happy about her news. Ecstatic.

Suddenly a huge weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He wouldn't have to marry Angela now. Surely this meant Michelle would marry him. She had to. She was carrying his child.

“Michelle.” He reached for her.

She scurried away, pressing her back against the brick building. “Tage, I've thought long and hard about this. You shouldn't break your engagement with Angela.”

What the hell? He stepped toward her. “But—”

She lifted both hands, holding them palm out, to keep him back. “Angela wants to marry you.”

“Yes, but—”

“She's
counting
on marrying you.”

Dammit, he knew that, too. He did. But he didn't want to marry Angela. He wanted to marry this beautiful, sweet, wonderful woman in front of him now. This was the woman he wanted to vow to protect and cherish. This was the woman he wanted to wake up next to every morning. This was the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children.

“Michelle, I wanted to marry you from the start. It's you I wanted. It's you I still want now.”

 

Michelle was in hell. There was no other way to describe it. What horrible thing had she done to deserve this?

She was pregnant.

She was alone.

She was terrified and confused.

The father of her child seemed eager to abandon his plans to marry another woman so he could marry her. That was all fine and dandy except for the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted to marry him, and she felt awful about him breaking his engagement to Angela. Angela had very compelling reasons for marrying him. And she knew what she was getting into. And she was okay with marrying a man she didn't love.

Michelle, on the other hand, wasn't sure she could say the same thing.

What the hell was she going to do?

The honorable thing would be for her to have the child and then turn him or her over to the father and his wife to raise. That way Tage would have the child he seemed to be so anxious to have. And she would be free of the burden of raising a child on her own.

Yes, that would be a good and honorable thing to do. But the thought of turning over her baby to another woman . . . to not be able to hold and comfort him when he was crying . . . to miss all those special moments in his life . . . to hear him call someone else mommy.

Her stomach clenched. She was going to vomit again. She was still in the earliest weeks of pregnancy. If the nausea was from her pregnancy (which she hoped it was not), she didn't want to think about the remaining thirty-something weeks she had ahead.

As bile surged up her throat, she spun away from Tage. He wrapped a protective arm around her middle, supporting her gently as she retched until her eyes were watering. When she was through, she moved away from him again. It was too hard to think when he was touching her. Too hard to be objective.

“Have you seen a doctor?” he asked, sounding worried. He handed her a cloth, and she accepted it.

“Not yet.” She dabbed at her mouth. “My appointment is next week.”

“Have you been sick like this for long?”

“Just the last couple of days. I think I have a touch of the flu or food poisoning or something.”

“But you haven't seen a doctor?”

“I've been eating crackers and drinking lots of fluids.”

He grunted. “You'll see my doctor. As soon as possible. Come with me.” He grabbed her arm.

“What? Wait.” She yanked on her arm, but he didn't let go. “Where are we going?”

He tilted his head toward the parking lot. “I'm taking you home. My home. I don't want you to be alone. My brothers' wives will care for you until we can get a doctor to look at you in the morning.”

“That's not necessary. I can go home—”

“I said, you're going to my home.”

His tone was like barbs raking over her nerves. How dare he try to tell her what to do after everything he'd put her through? “Now, wait a minute!” She dug in her heels and crossed her arms over her chest.

He took one look at her, growled, literally, and then scooped her off her feet and carried her around the side of the building.

She had a healthy respect for her condition, so she didn't physically fight him. But she called him every curse word she knew. Then she made up a few. But she received absolutely no response. None.

He plopped her in the passenger seat of yet another sleek black car. As he circled around to the driver's side, she hit the power locks, locking him out. But the locks clicked open before he'd reached his door.

Stupid keyless entry.

“You're being an asshole,” she yelled as he folded his big frame into the driver's seat.

“Am I?”

“Yes. I said I didn't want to go to your house. This is kidnapping.”

“Is it?”

What was with the effing questions? “Yes, and you know it.” He merely shrugged and, ignoring his ringing cell phone, steered out of the parking spot. Within seconds, the car was zooming down the road, toward his house, wherever that was.

His phone rang a second time.

“That's probably Angela,” she told him. “You kind of abandoned her. At her party. You seem to make a habit of that kind of thing.”

“I'll talk to her later.”

Jerk.

Asshole.

Michelle decided to try a new tactic. She clamped her mouth shut and sat there fuming in silence. Once he took her to his house, she decided, she'd wait for him to leave, and then she'd call a taxi and go home.

If nothing else, tonight gave her a little glimpse into what might have been if she had been foolish enough to marry this man. He took bossy to a whole new level. She wished Angela best of luck dealing with him for the next thirty to forty years.

About twenty minutes after he had dumped her into the car, the vehicle turned down what appeared to be a private driveway cutting through a patch of dense woods. The drive wound between towering trees and thick shrubs, then curved into an arc in front of a huge stone and wood house.

The place was gorgeous.

But she didn't say a word. Not when he parked. Or when he ran around to get her door just as she was pushing it open. Or when he escorted her up the walk toward the house, acting as if she was about to collapse at any moment.

She had a little touch of the stomach flu, for crying out loud. She was not mortally injured.

His phone rang again. If she were Angela, she'd be really angry by now. He was going to catch it from two women tonight.

Well-deserved.

She almost chuckled as she imagined him getting a tongue lashing from Angela. When she wanted to be, Angela could be a real bitch.

That was probably what he needed in a wife.