CEO's Expectant Secretary(2)

The door swung open and the woman who had made love to him with no holds barred stared up at him with a pale face and plum lips. Her dark brown hair was sexy-sleep disheveled and her blue eyes rounded in surprise at him.

“Brock,” she said, lifting her shoulders in the ivory silk robe she wore. “I thought you wanted to keep our relationship private,” she whispered. “Is there a business emergency?”

“You could say that,” he said. “I’ve found out who is selling our secrets.”

Alarm shot through her gaze and she shook her head, an expression of dread washing over her face. Her skin paled even more and she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t—” She broke off and ran away from him, leaving the door wide open.

Disconcerted, he stared after her. What the hell? Stepping inside the small but elegant foyer, he closed the door behind him and walked a few steps down the hallway. He heard the unmistakable sound of Elle losing her breakfast as he glanced at his watch. Despite his overriding fury, he felt a twinge of pity. She hadn’t appeared sick when he’d last seen her on Friday.

Minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, still pale. She spotted him as she lifted her hand to her forehead and sighed, looking away. Brock followed her as she walked down the hallway and turned into a moderate-sized kitchen decorated in shades of rust and cream. The contrast of the cream ceramic tile against her cherry-colored toenails emphasized her femininity. He remembered the sight of her naked from head to toe, whispering his name over and over as he made her his, driving both of them into pure pleasure.

He pushed aside the memory. “How long have you been sick?” he asked as she reached in the refrigerator for a can of ginger ale and poured it into a glass with ice.

“I’m not sick.” Her hand shook as she lifted the glass and took a sip. “It’s just the mornings—” She broke off and took another sip. “It’s nothing really.”

Something in her voice tugged at him. Something wasn’t right. Sick. Mornings. Realization shot through him like a round from a forty-five. He sucked in a quick breath. It wasn’t possible, he told himself, yet his gut told him otherwise. His gut told him what he didn’t want to know. Brock had learned long ago not to ignore what that churning sensation inside him had to say. It had saved him personally and professionally too many times to count. “You’re pregnant,” he said.

She closed her eyes and turned away from him.

“Elle,” he said, his heart hammering against his rib cage. “Don’t lie to me—not this time,” he added, unable to keep a touch of cynicism from his voice. “Is it mine?”

Agonizing seconds of silence passed. “Elle,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered desperately. “Yes. I’m pregnant with your child.”

Brock felt his heart stop in his chest. He swallowed a thousand oaths. The woman who had betrayed him carried his child. He raked his hand through his hair. He’d walked into her building ready to throw the book at her. He still wanted to. No one got the best of Brock Maddox. No one.

He ground his teeth together. He’d protected his family business—he could do no less for his child. His child deserved his name, his history, his everything. There was only one thing to do. “You must marry me.”

Elle jerked her head to gape at him. “Absolutely not. You didn’t want our relationship to be public. Why would you want things to be different now?”

“Because you’re carrying my child. Everything is different now.”

Elle took a quick little sip of ginger ale as if to calm herself, then shook her head. “This is crazy. You made it perfectly clear that our relationship was a secret fling.” She met his gaze briefly and he glimpsed a stab of pain in her blue eyes before she looked away again.

“If we want to do the right thing for the baby, then we have no choice. We must get married and raise this child together,” he said, his jaw clenching with tension. Five minutes ago, he’d been ready to show Elle everything he had against her. He had trusted her. She had betrayed him and his company and he’d wanted to make her pay. His fingers clutched at the envelope full of evidence.

She gnawed at her lip, still avoiding his gaze. “I can’t—” She broke off and lifted her chin. “I won’t marry you. The pregnancy was unexpected.”

He felt a sinking in his gut. “You’re not planning to have an abortion.”

She met his gaze in shock. “Of course not,” she said. “I’ll raise this baby on my own.” She slid her hand protectively over her abdomen.