Marcus was the Wentworth family attorney. It made sense that he would want to protect his very wealthy clients, but not to the extreme of scaring Bonnie off like that. I didn't see many other options that explained the situation though, and clearly, neither did Samuel.
"Call him for a meeting." I tapped a finger against my lips for a moment, then added, "But don't tell him what it's about." Samuel's face was turning red, the anger boiling up inside. "You need to keep your cool until we know for sure, Samuel."
He swallowed harshly and took a few deep breaths until his color began to turn to normal. "He's been in Europe the last month, handling my estate in London. I'll tell him to return immediately."
He plunked his elbows down on the desk and dropped his head into his hands. "My little girl," he sighed, his voice muffled. "I've missed so much of her life. I hope she'll let me be a part of the rest of it. I want to watch her grow into a woman, graduate from college, pursue her dreams. It's all I've ever wanted for her."
"She's already a woman," I barked. Shit. I might have been a little too forceful with my answer. Samuel's head lifted and he eyed me with an unreadable expression. "I mean, she's eighteen and she's been an adult practically since she was sixteen, when she had to start caring for her mom."
He stared at me for another moment, but then seemed to accept my explanation. "True. Well, maybe she'll get to have some of those carefree years back while she's in college." His eyes roamed over to the door, and he smiled ruefully. "I know you told me she was accepted to all of those ivy league schools, but selfishly, I can't help hoping she chooses a Texas school."
I was a little surprised that Lilah hadn't told him about her decision not to continue school. However, they'd only had a couple of days together and it might not have come up. I debated what to say, it wasn't really my place to divulge Lilah's plans. Yet, I had to fight the desire to stake my claim, to tell him she would absolutely be staying put, that she was going to be a wife and mother. He needed to start seeing Lilah as the fully grown woman that she was. If not, it would be a whole lot harder for him when he found out about us.
"I suggest you talk to Lilah about it, Samuel. If anything, she'll appreciate that you want her close."
He leaned back in his chair, still staring off at some unseen thing in his mind. "I'm sure you're right." Finally, his head turned and he looked at me. "I better go check on Lilah. Thanks for offering to help her on Monday."
I lifted my chin in acknowledgment and stood. "Let me know when you hear from Marcus."
He got up from his chair and we walked into the hall. "Will do," he said before slapping me on the back and going in the direction of Lilah's room. I stood and watched him go, irritated that he was the one checking on her and not me.
I talked myself into going to work for a while, though my thoughts never strayed far from Lilah. At some point I started digging into local obstetricians, looking for the best. I called in a favor with a friend and got an appointment for the next morning. Then I shot off a text to Lilah, letting her know I'd taken care of it. She responded by calling me bossy again and I grinned at my phone, planning all the ways I'd show that I was the boss, both in and out of the bedroom.
Chapter 10
Delilah
Leaving my father's home the next morning was harder than I expected. It wasn't as though I was even going far since Ethan's house was only a twenty-minute drive. But I'd only had a few days with Samuel and Lola, and much to my surprise, the idea of having a dad and a step-mom was quickly growing on me. I was having a hard time reconciling the man I was getting to know with the one who'd broken my mom's heart, though. He seemed to be everything Ethan had said he was, and nothing like the man my mom had described to me before she died.
I struggled with the conflicting stories, unsure what to think and afraid to trust what my heart was telling me about my father. But it wasn't something I could deal with at the moment because I had more pressing concerns on my mind, more specifically my possible pregnancy.
Even though I was tempted to hide my head in the sand about the tiny life that was most likely growing in my belly, Ethan wouldn't let me get away with it. He'd played it cool when he came to pick me up under the guise of helping me move into my imaginary friend's house-with the exception of his minor freak-out when I'd tried to carry anything out to his car-but the façade dropped the moment we'd pulled out of the driveway.
"Drink this," he ordered, pulling a bottle of orange juice out of the cup holder and shoving it into my hand. "It's a good source of folic acid. I was reading about your pregnancy last night, and it's important to get enough folic acid in the first month to help prevent birth defects."
"We don't even know if I'm pregnant yet," I reminded him, more than a little disturbed by the way he was talking and acting, as if it was already a definite thing. He was reading pregnancy books already, for goodness sakes! That was not normal guy behavior-unless you were an overly protective, alpha caveman like Ethan.
"Lilah," he sighed in exasperation. "You're not on birth control, and I've filled you with a bucket-full of come over the last couple of weeks. You've been more tired than usual, and the smell of bacon had you running into the bathroom to puke. Having the doctor confirm it is a mere formality. You're pregnant."
"Whatever," I mumbled, lifting the bottle to my lips to take a sip.
"Whatever I want? Sounds good to me," he quipped.
My startled laughter quickly died in my throat when he handed a cereal bar to me next. Followed by a banana.
"You do know that Lola fed me breakfast when I woke up this morning, right?"
His narrowed eyes slid to me for a moment before returning to the road. "You're eating for two now."
"Bossy," I grumbled under my breath. My exasperation didn't stop me from eating both items during our drive, though. What could I say? I was hungrier than I was irritated.
When we arrived at the doctor's office, we were quickly ushered to an examination room in the back, even though there were several people in the waiting room already. I'd barely put on the gown I'd been instructed to change into when a nurse came in.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Parker," she greeted us. "I understand you're here today because you think Mrs. Parker may be pregnant?"
"I thought we'd be seeing Dr. Reynolds during this appointment?" Ethan barked.
"Ms. Brooks," I corrected.
We'd spoken at the same time, but the nurse took it in stride. Ethan, however, had not since he was clearly unhappy, considering the way he was glaring at me.
"Yes, Dr. Reynolds will be in with you shortly," she explained, answering Ethan's question. "But first"-she handed me a little plastic container-"we need Ms. Brooks to provide a urine sample so we can run a pregnancy test."
Ethan growled when she said my name, but it only earned him a raised eyebrow from the nurse and a dirty look from me. I followed her out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom. Providing a sample was no problem since I'd drunk all the juice Ethan had brought me. The nurse smiled at me when I handed the container over to her and let me know the doctor would be in to see me shortly, just as soon as they had the results from the test.
Ethan was pacing the floor when I walked back into the examination room. His hands were in his pockets, and he appeared to be deep in thought. I cleared my throat, and his eyes locked with mine.
"You're mine," he growled. "Baby or no baby, it doesn't matter to me."
"Of course I'm yours," I soothed. "I've admitted it about a million times already."
"I didn't like hearing the nurse call you Ms. Brooks."
"It is my name," I reminded him.
"But I don't want it to be," he rasped, pulling a navy blue jewelry box, embossed with the Harry Winston logo, out of his pocket. He flipped one side of the top open, quickly followed by the other, and I swore my heart stopped in my chest at the sight of the ring inside. The cushion-cut diamond in the center was flawless-and huge. At least five or six carats. It was framed by micropavé diamonds and set on a micropavé platinum band. The design was delicate, feminine... and perfect for me.
"Oh my goodness."
"Marry me." He lifted the ring out of the box and slid it on my finger.
"It fits," I breathed out.
"Of course it does," he rasped, his thumb sliding over the band circling my finger. "I had it made for you."
"You did?" I cried, tearing my gaze away from my finger to look up at him once again.