Page 97 of Dying to Meet You

Her mother stares up at the ceiling. “We don’t even have a first-floor shower.”

“Mom.” There’s fury rising in her heart. “It’sliterallyyour job to create spaces where families can ‘flourish and grow.’ ” She uses air quotes. “That was on the website you started to make. Did you even mean it?”

“That’s marketing!”

“So no, then?” She jumps off the back of the sofa and heads for the stairs. She can’t sit here and listen to this. “Way to be generous. Thanks for nothing.”

36

Monday

Coralie

She spent the whole weekend rehearsing her speech and worrying what he’d say.

And throwing up from stress. And craving a drink.

You wouldn’t think those last two things go together, but you’d be wrong.

Now she’s standing in the doorway to his office, her heart fluttering. She’s got to rip the bandage off or lose her mind. “Mr. Wincott, I have to speak to you.”

He looks up from the document he’s reading, the frown line in his forehead accentuated by irritation.

She takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “We have to talk. I have some news. Good news.”

His frown lines deepen. “Spit it out, then.”

She walks in and closes the door behind herself. It seems to take a long time to close the distance between them. But she makes herself walk right up beside his chair. Then she puts a palm on her tummy. “I’ve been to the doctor. I’m sure this will be a shock, but we’re having a baby together. And I just know you’re going to be a wonderful father.”

His jaw hardens immediately. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t even have children.”

“Clearly you can,” she says as softly as possible. “There’s no one else it could be.”

“Well, you’ll never manage to prove it.” It’s almost word for word what she’d expected him to say.

She takes a fortifying breath. “Is that what you also said to Elizabeth? And Mary Ann, and Theresa?”

His head snaps back. He rises from his chair so fast that she can’t get out of the way. Her limbs are too startled to move.

One step forward and he slaps her face. Hard.

Her shocked hand flies up to her stinging cheek.Do not cry.

He surprises her by laughing. “You conniving little bitch. Got into my desk, did you? You pick the lock?”

Terror crawls down her spine. “No,” she breathes. She ought to turn and run, but something makes her stand her ground. “You left it open and just walked away. That’s sloppy work, Mr. Wincott. But I forgive you.”

Thelookon his face. Pure shock.

“You’re a sinner, too, aren’t you? I think that’s why you like me. Because we’re just the same.”

His eyes darken, and for a split second she thinks she’s made a horrible miscalculation.

But then something unexpected happens. He leans in and takes her mouth in a punishing kiss, jamming his tongue in her mouth so suddenly that it scrapes past her teeth. One of his hands snarls into her hair, and the other one clamps to her ass.

It’s so shocking that it unsteadies her. Arms flailing out to the sides, she finds nothing to hold on to except for him.

When she grips him, he makes a noise. A worked-up moan. His hands are everywhere now. On her sensitive, swollen breasts. On her ass and then her belly.