Page 119 of The Billionaire's Baby

"You heard me." She tugs on her hand and I release it. "I said no. No, I will not marry you. No, I don’t want to be with you. In fact, I hate you as much as I hate myself for ever allowing myself to feel anything for you."

She turns to leave.

I spring to my feet and grab her wrist. "You don’t mean it."

She turns on me and stares down at where my fingers encircle her wrist.

I release her and she folds her arms in front of her. "I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life."

She heads toward the doorway, then stops. "I’ll leave it to you to make excuses to my family."

"Stop, Karina, don’t leave like this." I walk toward her.

"I don’t want to stay a minute longer with you." Her back is stiff, her shoulders straight. Her dark hair swishes about her shoulders as she yanks open the front door.

"At least, wait a minute. I’ll drive you back to my place."

"If you think I am coming back with you to see your family again, you have another think coming."

"Fine, so don’t come back to my place. At least, let me take you to…to wherever you are going." I reach the front door as she heads outside.

"No, thanks." She walks down the steps.

"Karina, come on. Let me make sure you reach your destination safely."

"Ha," she snorts, "I’ll be safe as long as I am away from you. Besides, you lost the right to care about my wellbeing. No," she holds up a finger, "let me rephrase that. You never earned the right to worry about my happiness, and now," she peruses my features, "now you never will."

She reaches the bottom of the steps. Hell, I need to stop her. I need to figure out how the hell I am going to get her back. "What if you’re pregnant?"

She pauses.

I take the steps two at a time and reach her. "You were sick all of a sudden, weren’t you?"

Her shoulders shake.

What the—? "Karina, you okay?" I touch her shoulder. She shakes it off and turns to me.

Her mouth is open, tears run down her cheeks.

"Why are you laughing?" I growl.

"OMG." She wipes the moisture from her face. "I puke and you think I am pregnant? It’s less than a week since we had sex, and you think I am already carrying your child?"

"It’s possible, isn’t it?"

"It is," she admits, "but no way, would I be feeling the effects of pregnancy so quickly that I’d be vomiting as a result."

My neck heats. Of course, she is right. And I knew that, I swear, I did; I just wasn’t thinking straight. When I am near her, my thoughts seem to get all twisted up inside until I am a mess. Why the hell does she screw me up so?

"So, what is it then? Was it something you ate? Should you be traveling in this condition?"

She snorts. "It was your proximity that resulted in my being physically sick. Now that I am leaving you—" She takes a step away from me, "See, I already feel better."

She holds out her hand.

I stare at it, then back at her face.

"The keys," she says impatiently, "the car keys."