outine ch

of fact, utterly devoid of concern

he swallowed the hot protest that rose in her throat, knowing it would be useless. Her heart pounded like a drum, her mind racing with various thoughts

ek leather doctor's bag. She introduced herself as Evelyn Reynolds and gave

calm voice, "Damian mentioned you didn't hav

expecting to be taken to the examination table and asked about h

eadache? Nausea? Dizziness?" the doctor asked, skillfully checking Chloe's pulse with her fingers. "

yes, and gently palpated her neck. No mention of any gynec

ion, there was no particu

cy fear in Chloe's stomach.This is not a gynecol

n, and general discomfort. Not for the "c

dizzying lightness, but it was quickly over

resentment was directed at Damien's elusive behavior, his vague words, his gaze lingering on her abdomen--

yee who had spent the night at his apartment. He said nothing, watched her expre

he was hungover and dehydrated, handed her a small bottle of electrolyte solut

p hair and lounge pants was gone. In his place stood the CEO of Sterling Innovations--impeccable, formidable, in

almost dismissive gesture. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on some distant point. He simply walked out

th the tags still on, and a pair of simple flats. Chloe changed quickly, the u

nimalist modern art gallery than a residential bu

g's assistant," he said, his smile as poli

sedan felt too soft, too luxurious, the quiet hum of the engine too loud in her ri

she asked, her voice barely

erfectly in place, betraying nothing. "You seemed quite distressed after

into a cold knot. She

nd, ah, tore his shirt," Leo sai

uting something about liars, about betrayal. God. The shame was a phys

othly, his voice a practiced balm. "But given the circumstances, he t

ction, meticulously crafted. She knew it, every fiber of her being

e asked him to pull over. "I

he bright, sterile lights of a CVS. The automatic doors hissed shut behind her, sealing her i

shameful. Yet, the act felt like the first breath of air after being held underwater, a desperate grasp at control. Back in her tiny studio

of her humiliation, shoving it into the bottom of he

the morning. Her reflection stared back from the bathroom mirror--pale, exhausted, with ma

g was not a Good Samaritan. He was something else entirely, something