The Billionaire's Mistress Complete Series: Alpha Billionaire Romance (23 page)

I
’m not pregnant
…

Not pregnant.

“Not pregnant,” I said as my brain struggled to process the bombshell my fiancée just dropped. “Did you…” Taking a slow breath, I looked from the wine to her flushed face. Maybe there was a rational explanation for her behavior after all. I forced my voice to soften. “You lost the baby?”

“No.” Paisley slammed the bottle down and stormed across the few feet that separated us. “I didn’t lose the baby.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I turned away and shoved the heel of my hand against my eye. My patience was wearing thin, but I didn't want to react based on a misunderstanding. “Spell it out for me, Paisley.”

She gave the sort of unladylike snort that I would've thought was beneath her. “You know, I never thought you were as smart as everyone seemed to think.”

I ignored the insult and waited.

“Can't lose what you never had to begin with.”

My stomach dropped. “You were never pregnant.”

“Bravo. Now you got it.” She gave me a smile of mock pride, clapping her hands. “Good job, honey!”

I curled my hands into fists. “You made it up. All of it.”

When she didn’t respond, I closed the last of the distance between us, putting my hands on the counter on either side of her waist. I wasn't touching her – I never wanted to touch her again – but she was effectively caged in.

She swallowed hard, apparently realizing how pissed off I was. A bit of the alcohol haze left her eyes, and I could see her trying to compose herself.

“You made it up,” I said again.

I needed to hear her say it, needed to know that I wasn't jumping to conclusions. Still, a part of me was hoping that it was a misunderstanding. That she'd honestly thought she was pregnant, and by the time she discovered that she wasn't, things had gotten away from her. I could forgive her for that.

Her expression hardened, and she practically sneered her answer, “Yeah. So what? I’m not pregnant. We’ll get married and sooner or later, I will be.”

“Seriously?” I shoved away and started to pace.

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm their shaking. For the past few weeks, there had been only one positive thing when I looked at what I thought was going to be my future.

One.

And it turned out that one tiny thing had never existed.

Everything I'd done over the past few weeks had been because of the baby. Every choice I'd made, every painful decision. I'd changed everything for that future, and now it was all ripped away.

Maybe it didn’t make a difference to her, but it made one hell of a difference to me.

“Does my mother know?”

Paisley gave me a distracted look, one that clearly told me she didn’t see why it mattered. The threads of my temper stretched taut, and I could all but imagine them snapping, one by one. Taking one step closer, I asked my question again.

“Of course she knew,” Paisley snapped, waving a hand in the air. “Do you really think I’d do something like this on my own? It was her idea. Well, hers and my mother’s.”

I stared at her in disbelief, hoping I’d misunderstood what she said. “They both knew? You were lying this whole time, and my mother knew? It was her idea?”

I thought that repeating the statements would make them seem more ludicrous, less believable, but that wasn't the case.

“Of course.” Paisley leaned against the island, tapping her nails on it in an aggravated rhythm. “Really, Jal. It’s not like anything else was going to get your attention, now was it? We’d been dating for almost a year–”

“We went to a couple of functions, and my mother was always pushing you at me at family events. That's not
dating
, Paisley.” I didn't understand how my entire world could have shifted on its axis in just a few short minutes.

“And what did you think we were doing when we were sleeping together?” She shoved off the island and glared at me. She seemed angrier that I was pushing the issue than contrite about lying about something so important.

“It’s called
sex
, Paisley! I told you I wasn’t looking for any kind of commitment.” I paused a beat and then asked sarcastically, “Or did you think I was just making that up? Apparently you do it as easily as breathe.”

She had the nerve to look insulted.

As she sputtered for a response, I moved into the living room and headed for the bar service. I'd left a bottle of twenty-five-year old scotch back there and now was the perfect time to break it open. I'd been considering saving it for the baby's birth, but apparently this was more realistic.

“So exactly what was the plan, Paisley? Pretend you were pregnant, get me to propose, and then
lose
the baby? A miscarriage would've made me look like a heel if I left you then. Or were you going to tell me the truth somewhere along the way and hope I'd just go with it to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I'd been tricked? Maybe try to get knocked up and fake a super-short pregnancy? Do I strike you as that much of an idiot?”

Her face had paled, as if she'd only just realized how badly she'd fucked up. “I…Jal, I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. We’re now where we should've been all along. It's the natural progression...”

I’d been about to pour the scotch into a glass, but at those words, I stopped, lifting my head to stare at her. Her words trailed off, and she nervously cleared her throat, then opened her mouth as if she meant to continue.

I held up a finger, stopping her. “You don’t see why I’m so upset. So…” I splashed the scotch into my glass and took a slow sip, savoring the taste and the feel as it burned a smooth path straight down. “You got this idea in your head that, at some point, you and I were going to end up on this road, so you decided to take a shortcut to get us there quicker. Am I right?”

She gave me a smile that wobbled at the edges nervously. “Of course. Not the best idea, I can see that now. That’s all it was. A shortcut.”

“Wrong.” I tossed back the rest of the scotch like it was pure moonshine and slammed the glass down so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Bracing my hands on the bar, I glared at her across the expanse of the room. “When I said I wasn’t looking for a commitment, I meant it.”

She twisted the ring on her finger, and the sight of it reflecting the light back at me hit me hard.

I was still technically engaged to her.

She wasn’t pregnant.

I no longer had a responsibility to stay with her.

There was no baby.

“I had no plans to marry you, Paisley. At all.” I splashed more scotch into my glass and studied her over the rim. “See, unlike you, unlike your mother, my mother, when I say things, I mean them. The only reason I proposed was because of the baby, because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Because I was going to be a father.

Her throat worked. She backed up a step, her heel hitting the island at her back. I watched her putting together just how badly things were going for her, but I didn't feel any sympathy as her new reality sank in.

“Since there’s no baby…” I shrugged and looked down, watching the amber liquid swirl around in the glass. My anger drained away as quickly as it had arrived. Now, all I felt was numb. “There’s no reason to get married, is there?”

“What are you saying?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“It’s not so hard a concept. Keep the ring if you want. I don’t care. But the wedding is off.” I shot her a look over the glass. “And I don’t mean
off
as in I need time to think. I mean we're not getting married, not going to any events together, not fucking ever. If I had my way, I'd never see your face again.”

“You son of a bitch!” she shouted. “You immature, self-centered bastard! We were doing you a
favor
!”

I couldn’t hold back the sharp laugh that burst from my throat. “Next time you feel inclined to do me a favor?
Don’t
. And I suggest you educate yourself on immaturity and self-centeredness. I don’t think you’d recognize what it’s like to think of others if your life depended on it.”

Face flushed pink, Paisley flung a hand toward the window, as though the whole of Philadelphia society could see us fighting. “And what am I to tell everybody? People are expecting a wedding!”

“You could try the truth for once,” I suggested. “Tell them you lied, and I found out and thought marrying you wasn’t in my best interest.”

She gaped at me for a moment before starting in again. “You insufferable ass! I can’t…you…
you
won’t do this to me.”

“It’s already done. Now…” I put my glass down. “If you'll excuse me, I'll see myself out. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me, or I'll have you arrested.”

I slammed the door behind me and headed outside as I tried to absorb everything that had happened in the last few minutes.

Minutes.

It felt like years.

No matter how long it'd taken, it'd been long enough to change everything.

She wasn’t pregnant. Hadn’t ever been pregnant.

A headache pulsed at the base of my skull, pounding and threatening to explode, but things kept coming, one after another.

Paisley.

My mother.

Diamond.

They’d all lied. Planned it together.

Then, my mind circled around to Allie.

Allie.

The things I'd said to her, accused her of. The stricken look on her face before the anger had covered it.

I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up.

Man, when I fucked up, I did it well.

I
t had been
one of the worst
weekends of my life

Things were awkward between Mom and me, although I knew most of that was my fault. She wanted to protect me from the mistakes she’d made, and I understood that.
I
wanted to protect me from those very same mistakes. But I was already in a little too deep for that.

Aside from my personal drama, TJ had gotten sick, and we had to take him to the clinic late Sunday night, which was always a hassle. He'd had chronic ear infections as a toddler and had hated doctors ever since. It didn’t help that the clinic was training students, and even though I’d been as polite as possible when I explained who I was, the girl we’d been assigned copped an attitude and tried to make me leave. It'd taken the threat of a lawsuit to get her to let me stay, and even then, she'd deliberately ignored any questions I asked. I ended up having to flag down someone in the hallway to insist on another doctor.

All in all, we were there for nearly six hours before TJ was diagnosed with strep and sentenced to home with antibiotics until the fever cleared.

The only upside was that I got to sleep in an extra twenty minutes Monday morning since I didn’t have to walk him to school.

I treated myself to a double caramel latte on my way in and thought it might not be quite as cold as it had been. The sun was even shining, and I heard birds calling. Spring. It was the last week in March. About time spring showed itself.

I made it to work with five minutes to spare and sat in the back, finishing up my latte and flipping through a supply catalog to see if there were any clearance items.

“Man, if the prices on these raise much more, we’ll have to start having bake sales or something just to cover the costs,” Sandy said in disgust as she tossed her catalog down.

I grinned at the thought. “I'd love to see the look on Alistair's face when you suggest that.”

The other girls laughed, knowing that our uptight boss, Alistair Hopkins, would throw a fit if any of us suggested something as common as a bake sale.

“I’ll do my strawberry lemon cake,” Sonya offered. “He loves that. He’d pay fifty just to have it all to himself.”

“Keep it up, girl.” Shaking my head, I focused on the poppy seed muffin I’d picked up with my latte. “You’re going to make me hungry, and it’s not even close to lunch.”

I didn’t need any help either. As moody and depressed as I’d been all weekend, I’d wanted nothing more than wine, chocolate, and ice cream. I’d been fighting myself tooth and nail not to give in. With the money I'd spent on clothes over the past couple of weeks, I couldn't justify a splurge on even cheap wine. Popping the last bite of muffin into my mouth, I tried to pretend it was strawberry lemon cake.

Tried. Failed.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor had me looking up. It was time to get to work.

* * *

“
H
e hated it
,” Daisy Caldwell announced as I wrapped the cape around her shoulders.

She was my first appointment this morning – switching from her normal day and time because she was going on a cruise later this week. With her newest boyfriend. He was only forty-six. She’d taken great pleasure in telling me that.

She was also planning on sleeping with him.

She’d told me that too.

Now, I was hoping she wouldn’t tell me too much more. She loved regaling all of us with the details of her trysts with her younger companions. Sometimes I thought she did it just to see how much it took to get us to blush.

As she grinned at me in the mirror, I asked, “Your son didn’t like your new style?”

“He
hated
it.” She said it with relish and reached up to pat at her coif. “I’m going to do it again closer to the family picnic this summer.”

“You are bad, lady.” Tsking under my breath, I fought not to laugh. She had a devilish gleam in her eyes, and I wondered if I’d be as much fun in my seventies as she was.

Then I had to mentally fight a bit of sadness. I wasn’t as much fun as she was now, and I was barely twenty-one.

I forced myself to focus on my customer. “What are we doing this time? Vamping you up for this stud you’re taking on the cruise?”

She started to laugh, but to my surprise, her cheeks turned the prettiest pink.

“Well now, Daisy.” I propped a hand on my hip. “If I’m not mistaken, you look a little nervous there. You actually like this guy, don’t you?”

“Oh, hush.” She flicked the cape draped across her like it was a velvet gown. “Just make me beautiful, Allie. That’s all you need to do.”

“That makes my job easy, Daisy. You’re already one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever known.” I winked at her and got to work.

Less than an hour later, she pressed several bills into my hand on her way out the door. While it wasn't unusual for her to tip with cash, it seemed to be more than usual. I didn't look though. Alistair drilled it into our heads that we weren't supposed to check tips where customers could see us. I tucked it away and told her to have fun on the cruise.

“You be a good girl, Allie.” She paused and then hugged me. “You make sure you’re having fun yourself.”

I nodded at her, wondered why she suddenly looked a little sad but didn't ask. Even if I'd felt comfortable asking something so personal, she was busy chatting with Alistair, making his cheeks burn as she told him about her upcoming cruise and her new stud.

I returned to my station and went about setting things to rights. I had forty-five minutes to kill, thanks to a last minute cancellation.

Using the time to restock my supplies, I didn’t even notice him come in. If I had, I would've snuck out the back until he left.

But I was right there, and at the sound of Alistair’s voice, I froze.

“Mr. Lindstrom!”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I tucked my chin down low.
No, no, no…
I mouthed the words to myself like they were some sort of magical incantation and just saying them would make him disappear.

A weighted silence fell across the room, and although I couldn’t see him, I knew he was walking my way. Bracing myself, I pushed away from the cabinet and turned to face him.

“Hello, Mr. Lindstrom.” I silently congratulated myself for how even and professional I sounded.

Everybody around us seemed to get terribly busy doing absolutely
nothing
, including Alistair. Jal didn’t pay any of them a single bit of attention as he came toward me, his eyes rapt on my face. For all the interest he showed them, I might as well be the only person in the room.

“Allie.” His voice was rough, lower than normal. There were dark shadows under his eyes, like his weekend had been as bad as mine.

After a few seconds, he hadn’t said anything else, so I asked, “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

I put a slight emphasis on the
sir
, reminding myself as much as him that there was a clear gap between us. Two very different worlds, no matter how he tried to act otherwise. No matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise.

“Yes…I…” He glanced around, finally noticing all the people who were pretending
not
to watch us. “Do you have a few minutes?”

I wanted to lie, tell him that I was booked solid, and he needed to leave. I didn't want to talk to him. Didn't want to feel the hurt I'd locked away.

But, of course, Alistair came hustling over. “Allie, your next appointment isn’t for forty minutes. You know what? I bet everybody would
love
it if you went and got us some coffee. My treat. Go on up to my office and get some petty cash. You and Mr. Lindstrom can talk on the way.” He looked over at Jal with polite blandness. “Will that work, Mr. Lindstrom?”

“Of course.”

Feeling deflated, I gestured to the seating area. “I'll be right back.”

“Nonsense.” Alistair cut in. “Just go on up with Allie.” He made a shooing motion at us both. As I turned away, I tossed a glare over my shoulder, but he beamed at me, all innocence.

Alistair’s office was the most private place in the building, up two flights of stairs, and the only room with an official purpose. The second floor was more storage and currently in a half-finished state. He kept talking about adding more services. Full-body massage, mud-wraps, salt soaks, but he didn’t have the capital just yet. Inside the office, I went straight to his desk and pulled out the cash I’d need to get coffee for all. It wasn't unheard of for Alistair to treat us, but it wasn't an everyday occurrence either. This time, I knew, was because of Jal, not any magnanimous gesture on my boss’ part.

I started to shove the cash into my pocket, and then stopped, flashing it in front of Jal. “Would you like to count it, make sure I’m not helping myself to extra? You can let my boss know if I’m being dishonest.”

Apparently, I hadn't boxed up my feelings quite as tightly as I thought. I could feel my temper bubbling just under the surface.

I walked toward him. “Here, go ahead.” I held the money out.

He reached out and closed my fingers over it. His touch and voice were gentle. “Stop. Look, I came…I want to apologize.”

I yanked my hand away, unable to think clearly when he was touching me.

“You apologized. Fine.” I jutted my chin toward the door and walked over to the window. “You’ve done that. You can go now.”

“No.”

Eyes burning, I stared through the sheer curtains that covered the single window. “There’s really nothing else to be said.”

Behind me, I sensed his movement and fought the urge to turn. If I looked at him, whatever it was he wanted, I just might give it to him. And more. For the first time in my life, I felt a flash of sympathy for my mother and how she must've felt about my father.

“Look at me, Allie.”

Closing my eyes, I leaned closer to the window and rested my forehead against the glass. “Why can’t you leave me alone, Jal?” The question came out much quieter than I'd wanted it to.

“If it were that easy, I would have done it already. You’ve made everything so complicated.”

He put his hand on my hip and my entire body tensed. I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the heat from his palm. He put his other hand on the wall next to me, leaned in until I could smell the spice of his aftershave.

“I spoke to your father. I…Allie, I messed up. I’m sorry. I said terrible things to you. I made awful assumptions. I was an ass, and the word
sorry
doesn’t really cover it, but it’s about all I’ve got.”

I wished I could say those words covered all the hurt and made everything better, but they didn’t. The reason he'd said those things, the reasons that made it okay for him to talk to me like that, those still existed between us. They always would.

“Okay.” I didn’t open my eyes or turn to look at him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave. He was absolved. He could go back to his life without whatever guilt he'd wanted to get rid of.

He pressed his lips to my shoulder, and I suppressed a shiver, swallowing back a whimper. I wanted to feel that mouth all over me.
All
over me. Before I could give in, I twisted around, extricating myself from the tight little spot between him and the window. I needed space between us.

“You’ve said what you needed to say. Now…I need to go–”

I’d been walking away from him, focused on the door and escape. I should have been paying more attention to him.

He caught my arm and spun me around. Suddenly, for the first time since we’d come into the room, I was facing him, looking directly at him. His light blue eyes cut into me, glittering with intensity. Harsh flags of color rode high on his cheekbones.

“Stop walking away from me, dammit.” His voice had lost all of its previous gentleness.

He cupped my cheek with one hand and buried his other hand in my hair. I’d left it down and loose today, letting it go a bit wild. His fist tightened, and he used that hold to tug my head back, urging me to hold his gaze. Not that I needed any urging. I needed help to
stop
looking at him, the bastard. And here he was making me do the impossible.

“Jal.” I could hardly breathe. “Please. You’ve got to stop this.”

He stroked his thumb across my lower lip, watching that small action as though mesmerized. I swallowed a whimper.

“Your mouth,” he whispered. “I can’t tell you how much I love your mouth.”

“Jal…”

He repeated the caress with his thumb, and I almost opened my mouth, licked his thumb, sucked on it.

Even thinking about it made me want to do
more
, take other things between my lips. My mouth started to water, and a moan escaped me. He moved closer, and I turned away as he dipped his head to kiss me. His hand in my hair prevented me from completely turning aside, and he didn’t let my movement deter him. His mouth landed on the corner of mine, and his tongue swept out in a quick, light caress.

“Allie…”

In that moment, I was torn between hunger and hate.

I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted
anything
.

And I hated him for how weak he made me.

Hate won.

I shoved him – hard.