Page 78 of Bound in Debt

Hard pass.

Hanging out at a clinic, waiting for a pregnant woman to waltz in, seems too mundane. I wouldn’t want someone thinking I was threatening her.

A loud thudding sound ricochets off the bathroom tub and I wait to hear Victoria start cursing, but she doesn’t. I wait in silence until it happens again.

There’s still no sign she’s okay and my brain is immediately conjuring images of what could make that sound other than a dropped shampoo bottle.

I checked this place before we got in.

Yeah, but did you check for hidden panels in the bathroom?

Quietly, I stand and move quickly towards the bathroom. I was part of an assignment years back where a politician’s daughter was kidnapped from her hotel room using hidden doors. The crew was able to lead their victims—all women—out of the hotel without being caught on the security cameras. The perfect blend of sex trafficking and deviant genius.

And the last thing I need is for Victoria to be taken by yet another criminal ring.

I shove the door open and find the shower curtain closed. My heart is beating in double-time. I won’t be able to relax until I see her damn face.

I rip the curtain open and Victoria jolts, yelping as she covers her body with her arms and stares at me.

“Why didn’t you make a noise?”

Victoria frowns, confused. “Was I supposed to? I just dropped the bottle a couple times.”

Adrenaline still pumps furiously through my veins. I was prepared for a fight, and I find myself slightly disappointed that there’s no immediate threat. With all the pent-up aggression flowing freely through my body, I need an outlet. One that isn’t Victoria.

But my body doesn’t want to calm down long enough to get the obvious bulge in my boxers under control. My dick is more than ready for action as I take in the water flowing over her curves.

Her naked curves.

“Can you hand me a towel, please?”

Her voice is prim and sweet, painfully virtuous. I snap my eyes shut briefly as the word wife pounds like a drumbeat in my skull.

You married this woman. Legally, she’s yours.

But I’ve never been the type to care about the legal shit. I wish my brother had, though. I could use his support right about now.

Victoria is the forbidden fruit that I desperately want to sink my teeth into.

Stepping away from the tub, I grab a white linen towel from the fluffy stack on the shelf and Victoria promptly takes it while I force my eyes to the back wall, away from her body.

When I don’t sense any movement in my peripheral vision, I slowly slide my focus back to her face.

“Can you move?” she asks, and I feel like an idiot.

There’s no reason for me to still be standing in here, but I can’t make myself move much further than the door frame. I don’t know what it is about Victoria, but she’s something else. The label I first stuck her with, prissy little rich girl, no longer feels accurate.

No, this girl wants to go to Paris and bake pastries.

She wants to work.

Earn her own way.

I can’t do anything but respect that.

Victoria begins to move around me, but my arm shoots out to block her way and I prop my palm against the doorframe.

“My backup plan to get ahold of the last two million dollars is a flop. We don’t have time to wait,” I rattle off, staring at her naked shoulder, the delicate curve of her collarbone. “We need to get a fake pregnancy test and pretend I knocked you up. That’s why we got married when we did.”