Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
There was always a chance an insider at the precinct would auction a scandalous story like this out to the press. Probably someone wanting to take their wife to Florida on vacation. I could see the headlines in the Post at the newsstand.
“Lucas Shaw, billionaire heir to the Iron Gate fortune has child with escort.” Or worse—the company’s stocks would fall and my father would be on the warpath for me to resign. Who knew, the board might even agree with him.
“No police. At least not yet.”
“Understood. The good news is you have an appointment tomorrow morning at ten at a state-of-the-art clinic. They’re opening on a Sunday just for you. The paternity test results will be available by the end of the day. I’ll send you the details via email.”
“Let me know if anything changes. Also, find out where Coco—I mean Erin is staying in Paris and a contact number for her. Start with her agent.”
“Already on it,” Sloan said, and I ended the call.
I hadn’t expected same-day results. I’d guessed it would take at least a day or two. I was relieved I didn’t have to wait, but also anxious to find out if I was the child’s father. I pushed the inconceivable thought out of my head. If I kept traveling down that path, I’d end up reaching for the scotch bottle again.
The photo on my desk of my mother and me when I was only three years old taunted me. I reached for it. My mother had passed down her crystal blue eyes to me. Hers had dimmed since the accident. Mine had hardened to ice. And the child’s matched ours, shining brightly with the innocence of new life. I threw the photo at the wall and watched as it crashed to the ground. The glass shattered on the floor, possibly along with my life.
19
Maggie
I was washing the dinner dishes, putting them back where they belonged. As I stacked the last plate on a shelf, a crashing sound came from down the hallway, the one leading to Lucas’s office.
I ran to see what had happened but was met with a closed door. I placed my ear against the wood. At first, I didn’t hear a thing. Then there was the faint sound of crying. Not snotty sobs, but more like someone freed something built up inside. That someone was Lucas.
Oh, how I wanted to twist the doorknob and fling the door open, run to him with my arms open wide. The crash was more than an object breaking. Inside the room was a broken man.
Instead of barging in on his privacy, I laid my hand on the wooden door, hoping to connect myself to him and his pain. I’d be here if he was ever ready to confront what tormented him. And something did torment him. He wore it in the tightness of his jaw. Torment swirled in his eyes and tipped-up chin. It was the battle armor he showed the world. But I believed the fight was within himself.
I walked away after a few minutes, deciding it would be awkward standing there if he did open the door. What the hell would I even say to him? Asking if he was okay would only aggravate him, emphasizing I’d witnessed his vulnerability, likely making him push me further away.
I found the bag I’d packed from home by the front door, probably where Barclay had left it. I took it to Lucas’s bedroom and locked the door behind me. I searched the corners of the ceiling for a video camera, like the ones I noticed in the main living area and kitchen, but I didn’t see one in here. I blew out a breath, thankful I had some privacy.
Looking for the bathroom, I opened one of the doors in the vast space. It was a guessing game. Behind it was a closet, resembling a gentlemen’s clothing store. Everything was perfectly displayed. Suits lined up in a row stretching for yards. Pressed dress shirts lined another wall. Shoes were exhibited on shelves with lights above spotlighting each pair. I didn’t see a sock on the floor anywhere. His home was ridiculously ordered—a polar opposite to my room. Messy met clean freak. It was sobering, though he probably paid someone to brush dust off his suits every day. I couldn’t wrap my mind around that kind of money. He had way more than Tessa’s boyfriend, but Lucas shared the same elite stratosphere.
I tried another door, dropping the bag onto the carpeted floor. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The outside wall of the bathroom was full, floor-to-ceiling glass. A window out into the world, even the shower. I probably smelled like baby puke. I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.
The shower wasn’t difficult to work, though there were two overhead spouts, making me feel like I was caught in a heavy downpour. I closed my eyes as the water rushed over my skin, then opened them to look out the glass to the city below me. The darkness of Central Park was sandwiched between lit buildings. It took my breath away and was the first thing in this sterile home I wanted for myself. What a luxury.