Page 144 of Nine Months to Bear

“They’re genuine,” I promise. “Every single one.”

Stefan checks his watch. “I have another meeting, but I wanted to ensure the record was clear. Dr. Aster runs her clinic with integrity. Anyone suggesting otherwise is either lying or jealous. Usually both.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “Mr. Madison, you built your company on taking chances on brilliant people. Don’t let gossip make you miss the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Then he’s gone, leaving his cologne and the weight of his words behind.

Jonathan sits back down slowly. “Well. That was…”

“Intense?” Camille suggests.

“I was going to say ‘illuminating.’” He looks at me. “A surrogacy arrangement?”

“Completely above board,” I confirm.

“And he just… announced it? To protect your reputation?”

“Mr. Safonov is very protective of his investments. As you just saw.”

Jonathan’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Tell me more about your expansion plans.”

My heart restarts. “You’re still interested?”

“Dr. Aster, I’ve been in business forty years. I know a hit piece when I see one.” He glances at the door Rebecca fled through. “I also know when someone’s terrified of competition. So let’s talk numbers.”

As I launch back into my presentation, I catch a glimpse of Stefan through the conference room glass. He’s standing by the elevator, watching.

When our eyes meet, he nods once.

Then the elevator doors close, and he’s gone.

Jonathan Madison signs a preliminary agreement twenty minutes later.

54

STEFAN

Taras and I have been dancing around landmines for weeks now. Every conversation is loaded with shit neither of us wants to detonate.

He shows up at my office at seven in the morning, which only ever means bad news. Good news can wait until noon. Disasters demand that we met at the fucking crack of dawn.

“FBI’s been sniffing around the warehouses yet again.” He drops into the chair across from my desk without invitation. “Two agents came by asking nosy-ass questions at the docks yesterday.”

“Same ones as before?”

He shakes his head. “No, these were new faces. Younger. Nosier.” He lights a cigarette, which is fast becoming a regular habit, no longer just a nervous one. “They’re not just fishing anymore. They know something, Stef. I’m telling you, they fuckin’ know something.”

I pour myself coffee from the carafe Mikayla left on my desk. It’s still hot, which means she’s somewhere in the building, probably plotting my demise after last week’s rejection.

“Let them sniff. Everything’s clean.”

“For now.” Taras ashes into my crystal paperweight. “But that stunt you pulled yesterday? Waltzing into Madison’s meeting like some fucking white knight? That’s gonna draw attention, man.”

“I was protecting our investment.”

“Bullshit.” He leans forward. “You were protectingher. Big-ass difference, in my humble opinion.”

I take a sip of coffee instead of answering. It’s bitter. To be fair, everything tastes bitter lately. Everything except?—

“I will say that it was effective, though. She’s gotten twelve new clients since yesterday.” Taras pulls out his phone and waggles it in front of my face. “High-profile ones, too. Madison’s wife. Two of his board members. Even that senator’s daughter, the one with the reality show.”