Page 28 of Nine Months to Bear

I stand slowly. She doesn’t back down. Just tilts her chin up to maintain eye contact.

Defiant to the end. It makes me want to see her on her knees.

No—it makes me want to see her swollen with my child, claimed by me from the inside out.

“I know exactly what I want.” I let her see it in my eyes. The hunger. The inevitability. “Do you?”

Her eyes widen as understanding dawns. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re the one who said this idea goes against what your clinic stands for. You don’t want to pimp out someoneelse’suterus, so…”

I let her fill in the blanks. It would work perfectly for me. She gets pregnant with my child, which gives us a family connection. Then I use that to integrate myself into her business, pulling it back from the brink of ruin.

If I become the CEO in the process, who would even notice?

Based on the flush in her cheeks, the way I can see her pulse thrumming in her throat, she’s filling in the blanks just fine.

“That’s—that’s completely ridiculous.” She steps back, abandoning her folders. “I’m a doctor. A business owner. Not a?—”

I raise an eyebrow. “Not a suitable genetic match? Your file suggests otherwise. Perfect health. Advanced degree. No family history of congenital disorders.”

“Myfile?” She swallows hard. “You have afileon me?”

Maybe I’ve said too much. But then again, maybe that’s not a bad thing. Let her see a fraction of what I’m capable of. Let her understand who she’s dealing with.

Let her remember who the fuck I am.

“Everything is my business, Dr. Aster. Absolutely everything.”

“I— You— What is even happening?”

“You need the money. I need discretion and genetic quality. It’s a perfect solution.”

She laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “You may get to walk around and use everyone else in this world for your sick purposes, but not me. I’m not your incubator.”

“I’d pay you triple your standard fee.” I step closer. She doesn’t move, but I can feel her itching to run… or perhaps to slide closer. The line between fear and desire is as thin as it gets. One tiny push or pull and she could tumble in either direction. “And fund your clinic for the next five years. No strings attached.”

Her eyes narrow. “There arealwaysstrings with men like you.”

I smile. “And what kind of man am I?”

“A dangerous one.” She says it without hesitation. Like she’s been waiting for the opportunity to throw that word in my face.

But if she thinks it’ll scare me, she thinks wrong. I know exactly what I am. I’ve known it since the day I saw the maids cleaning Mikhail’s bloodstains out of his office carpet.

Olivia snatches the papers back and stuffs them into her messenger bag. A piece of hair has escaped her tight bun. I can almost feel it wrapped around my fist.

“I know exactly what I want,” I repeat. “When you finally figure out whatyouwant, I’ll be waiting.”

She keeps retreating, though she never takes her eyes off of mine. “I tried to be reasonable, but it looks like that was a mistake. Consider this the official close of our relationship, Mr. Safonov. Don’t call me again. Find another clinic, another doctor. I’m done.”

The door slams behind her. Her heels punch holes in the silence all the way down the hall.

Taras materializes in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “That makes, what? Three dramatic exits this week? Should we start a betting pool?”

I run my thumb over where she’d leaned against my desk. She left a smudge on the wood. Sloppy of her. My oh-so careful doctor, leaving pieces of herself behind.

“She’ll be back,” I say under my breath. “Bet onthat.”