Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland

Chapter 7

 

Chantelle realized she was staring at the door, and had been for several minutes. She was at her lawyer’s office, twenty-eight stories up, surrounded by grand windows that gave an impressive view of Paradisio Falls.

Today was the day she and her future husband—pretend husband, really—ironed out the details of their contract. She didn’t even want to call it a ‘marriage’, although legally, that was what it was. But this one would be in name only, a means to an end, and although she was hardly a romantic, it didn’t sit well with her to use that term. Almost as if it would disgrace all the people who entered into such partnerships with their hearts, minds and bodies.

Like her mom had.

“He’ll show,” Grady said comfortingly. “It’s only seven minutes past.”

She was sure he would: for a man in his position, a million dollars was not something to be passed up. But she was a stickler for time and hated when other people were late to meet her. She considered it appalling bad manners; after all, ten o’clock meant….

Oh, God, she chided herself. No wonder Dustin said you’re uptight.

One minute later, Grady’s admin knocked lightly on the door, and at the older man’s rumble, it opened. In walked Dustin, neatly dressed in a pressed white shirt and tie. The cuffs were buttoned down, so you could barely see the inkling of tattoos peeking out at the wrists. He was followed by a slender man who looked several years younger than Dustin. Extremely young, that it took her a second to realize that this was his lawyer.

Immediately, she deduced that the kid must be a part of a legal aid team, the kind local colleges offered to clients who couldn’t afford more seasoned lawyers. She wondered if the kid had even graduated.

By contrast, after she’d explained to Grady what she wanted, he’d turned up with two other members of his top-notch legal team, ready for battle. She had to remind him they were handling a simple prenup, not buying a high-rise in Tokyo. So he’d sent the other two back to their desks and their million-dollar deals. She was sure that between the two of them, she’d have Dustin Spencer just where she wanted him.

As it turned out, she was right. As introductions were made, she had to hide a smile. I’m going to wipe the floor with him if he tries to get out of line.

The two lawyers began to converse, and Chantelle sat back, letting Grady do his job. After all, that was what she paid him for—and handsomely. She listened with half an ear as Dustin’s lawyer flubbed and flustered his way through the conversation, almost feeling sorry for the kid. Contrasted with Grady’s knowledge, power and experience, it was like a first former at Hogwarts showing off his wand skills for the Defense Against the Dark Arts master.

She first felt and then saw Dustin’s eyes on her, and briefly wondered what was going through his mind. When their eyes locked, he looked away, turning his attention instead to his lawyer, as if silently encouraging him not to lose his mettle.

Which gave Chantelle the opportunity to examine Dustin. He’d shaved, probably even had a trim, and that gave her a clear view of the strength of his jaw and the shape of his lips. His eyes deep and dark, serious. His mouth broad… also serious. Skin tanned in a way that spoke more of outdoor runs and shooting hoops with friends rather than the farce of tanning salons or spray.

His attention was focused on every word that came from Grady’s mouth as he outlined her conditions and details of payment. Again, he insisted that the money was to go to his stepmother, in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him.

She couldn’t help but feel admiration for his desire to protect his loved ones from the details of their arrangement… surely to an outsider it would seem bizarre, if not downright insane.

She listened to Grady reiterate that half of the money would be paid to Kimberly Spencer upon their marriage, with the rest to be disbursed once the contract had been executed and the marriage dissolved. Grady quieted Dustin’s anxiety about being found out. “Young man, let me assure you: if I don’t want money being traced back to someone, it won’t be.”

And once it was all over, when the deed was done, he’d be free of her, able to go live his life, save his family, and do… whatever.

Then, to her shock, his eyes were on hers again, and she flinched. Had he noticed that she’d been staring? Worse yet, had he noticed that she’d been admiring him?

Of course not. You didn’t cut the kind of deals she cut every day without cultivating a poker face. There was no way he could tell that from the moment of his arrival, she’d experienced a flutter of attraction, a whispered, animal response that had no right being here, voicing itself.

He cracked her a half smile. She didn’t return it. He turned his attention away again.

Hormones. Damn hormones. Her bloodwork had come back normal, and her doctor had told her she’d be fine as long as she took it easy. Took her prenatal vitamins and got some rest. Tried to avoid stress.

Everything she was experiencing was otherwise normal.

Fine. The nausea? Normal. Dizziness? Lots of women got it. Sudden flashes of desire for a random handsome dude?

Hormones, hormones, hormones. Because it couldn’t be anything else.

She realized that Grady was asking her a question, only she had no idea what it was. Everyone was turned to her expectantly, Dustin and his milky-cheeked lawyer included. And before she could ask him to repeat it, the table began to rock. The walls, with their twenty-thousand-dollar abstract paintings, began to swim.

Earthquake? she wondered. But no, the rocking was coming from deep inside her.

Chantelle knew that if she didn’t get up this second and run to the bathroom, she’d endure the humiliation of throwing up on the very documents they were here to sign.

“Excuse me,” she managed to mutter, but didn’t dare say anything else, because in a situation like this, having your mouth open was far from ideal.

She got up, abandoned dignity, rushed from the room, finding the hallway unerringly, running now to the nearest bathroom. Not caring that it was the men’s room: it was closest.

The vomiting began the second she burst into a stall. It went on and on until her chest hurt and her throat burned. Nothing but bile and battery acid. Pain and embarrassment.

She exited the stall and began splashing her face at the sink.

“You okay?”

She looked up into the mirror to see Dustin standing there, filling the doorway. Looked down again, rinsing her mouth a second time, splashing more water on her hot face, hating this.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. “The nausea?”

She shrugged. “Couple of days.”

“Been to a doctor?”

“Sure.”

“What did he say?”

She turned to give him a warning look. “You don’t have to, you know.”

He looked perplexed. “Don’t have to what?”

“Pretend you care. It’s fine. It’s not in your contract.”

He let that sink in for a long moment, before saying, “Your world must be a very sad place, if you think the only reason people act like decent human beings is if they’re contractually obligated to do so.”

She bristled at the insulting comment. Who the hell was he to come to conclusions about what her world was or wasn’t like? She decided to take control of the situation right away. “Dustin,” she said. “I want you to remember this, because I’m not going to repeat it again: your connection to the fetus I am carrying is purely incidental. You are in no way, shape or form expected or required to inquire after its or my well-being. I don’t want to hear any suggestions, recommendations, or commiserations regarding my condition—”

His brows lifted. “Suggestions?”

She waved her arms. “You know, ginger tea, sea bands for nausea, that kind of thing.”

For the merest second, he smiled in genuine amusement. “I promise you that I have never heard of ginger tea or ‘sea bands’, whatever those are, for nausea or any other pregnancy-related symptom. I will not be getting into anything with you about foot baths or back rubs or… whatever. All I did was check on you, because you seemed unwell.” The smile faded, and that serious, stressed look was back. “And also because, deny it all you want, the child you’re carrying is mine, and I feel I’m entitled to at least the right to be concerned for his or her welfare—if not for yours.”

Tell me he’s not getting territorial about my baby, she thought. Because if he is…. If he is, a voice inside responded, would that be so hard? Pregnancy was hard. Maybe it would be nice to have someone in your corner….

Dustin went on, sounding almost curt. And she knew that it was the short way she had spoken to him that had brought the shadow into his eyes. “Now that I see you’re fine, I’ll be heading back. Let’s get this goddamn thing signed so I can get out of here.”

She followed him, noting how straight he held his back, knowing that she might have been a bit hard on him. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. But this was business, and in business there were casualties. She was prepared to live with that, as long as she got what she wanted—needed—out of the deal, and the casualty wasn’t her.