Page 41 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

Except, he knew it was impossible to break into any safe I designed. He had tried it plenty of times.

So what exactly had he been doing in my office?

Three Months Later

Chapter16

Odette

Kneeling over the toilet, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

There were many reactions people experienced when seeing that pink plus sign. Puking their guts out while sobbing wasn’t usually one of them. Well, it shouldn’t be, anyway.

I got to my feet and brushed my teeth while Billie tapped her manicured nails on the countertop of our little bathroom.Click. Click. Click.The soft sounds felt like drums announcing an execution.

I. Fucked. Up.

The summer heat radiated through the air, sending a bead of sweat rolling down my spine. Gosh, it was on days like this that I wished we had air-conditioning in our home.

“How did you get preggo,ma soeur?”

She only called me soeur when she was worried. Her voice was sweet and soft, but panic filled her expression. Both of us stared at a pile of pregnancy tests, empty boxes, and way too many pink plus signs.

“Are you asking how—like in physical terms—or are you asking how I let it happen?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I guess both. What sexual position got you knocked up because I plan on avoiding it. And… didn’t you use protection?”

My face heated.

“We used protection,” I muttered.For the most part.There might have been a time or two that he slid inside me without a condom on. But he never finished. It was a stupid justification, and it was reckless. Yet, he’d felt so good that I kept forgetting. And so did he apparently.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.It was protection 101.

Just thinking about that man had my body going into a state of sexual shock. Yes, it was a medical term. Invented by me.

“Billie, what am I going to do?” I asked desperately. I was just about to enter my second year of medical school. I had dreams. Goals. Plans.

Tears burned in my eyes, threatening to spill. I refused to let them. I never used to fucking cry. Now, I cried all the time. Although it was understandable. We had lost our father. Our last parent. Now, Billie and I were all that was left.

And a baby.

My hands shook as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror of our home in Villefranche-sur-Mer. The summer break was in full swing, but cheer was nowhere to be found. Our home felt empty without Dad. My sister made some changes to it—especially the roomithappened in—but it still felt off. I saw him in every corner. Sometimes I even heard his voice, his feet shuffling against the hardwood.

“Well, they say no method of protection is foolproof, except for abstinence. I guess they weren’t lying,” Billie remarked calmly, staring at one of the many tests I held in my hand. Foolishly, I hoped the plus sign would just fade away.

It didn’t.

This couldn’t be happening to me. All these symptoms had to be stress-related.Plus signs too?my mind mocked.

God, what a fucking doctor I would become!

My mind worked vigorously at the options I had. I had my period three weeks ago. Granted, my last couple of periods seemed lighter than usual—again, blaming stress levels—but still, a period was a period. Plus, I hadn’t had sex with anyone else in almost three months.

I shook my head. No, I couldn’t be pregnant.

Now, I almost regret taking the test. Except, I kept getting nauseous and sick every morning. I groaned out loud.

This was the last thing we needed. We’d just buried our father, his hospital foreclosed on—Dad was brilliant at saving people, but evidently not finances—and we were broke. Both of us had jobs for the summer, and if not for my scholarship—and Billie’s miraculous deeds—I would have had to withdraw from Stanford.