Page 294 of The First Taste

My gaze drops to her belly, which is currently flat as a pancake.

I have been so wrapped up in my goal to inherit the Morgan empire that I’ve never slowed down enough to think about the actual child. I still can’t quite get a grasp on the reality of the situation. It seems far away, like a problem for future Dare to solve.

Talia lays her palms against her flat stomach while she’s pursing her lips. "I haven’t really spent that much time thinking about the baby," she admits. "But I know that it is at the center of this whole plot."

"I really haven’t put that much thought into it. But I would marry anyone and hold anyone’s child and claim it as my own if it meant that I got a leg up in this competition with my brother."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, although I thought we were just admitting our feelings.

She glances at me, disapproval echoing in her eyes. And then she turns away and paces to the window. I expect some kind of snappy retort to be forthcoming. But Talia just stares out the window, three quarters of her face hidden from my view. The part of her face that I can see is smooth and without expression.

Checking the time on my watch, I see that there are still hours left in our day, so I decide to push on with my next objective.

Getting comfortable with Talia isn’t going to be easy. I don’t understand her on even the most basic level. And her obvious hatred of everything I stand for has been expressed aloud multiple times. But if I’m going to close this deal and win this inheritance race, I have to swallow and take my medicine.

"All right. Come on, turn around."

Talia looks at me, turning slowly around, her face puzzled. I gesture to her body, looking her up and down.

"Stand up straight," I say. "Like your parents raised you properly."

Her face turns as red as a beet. She glares at me, seeming humiliated.

"That’s not funny," she hisses.

"What’s not funny?"

She pushes out her tongue with her cheek; her hip jutting out, and she puts her arms across her chest. "The thing you just said about parents. That’s not funny. Some of us were raised without our parents. That’s literally why I am doing all of this. I must save my Aunt Minnie, her bungalow, and the children’s shelter where my mother dropped me off when I was a little kid."

For a second, I am so taken aback by her words that I find myself speechless. "You didn’t know your parents?"

"I didn’t say that. My mom is still around, somewhere. But she never knew who my father was, and she found being a parent pretty stressful, from what I’ve heard. She had some kind of psychiatric emergency where she couldn’t get ahold of her sister, my Aunt Minnie. So she dropped me off at Hope House. The people there called my Aunt Minnie, who rushed to pick me up. I haven’t seen my mother since."

I screw my face up, unconsciously asking, "How did I not know this about you? This could be a real problem."

"You didn’t know because you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask anything about me. Basically, all you know is that I slept with your brother once and that my womb is fertile."

Damn, she has got me there. I pause, my mind whirling. If Talia’s mother shows up out of the blue, as a poor relative who wants something to do with those that suddenly get rich, it could be a problem. She could demand money, at the very least.

I turn to her, my expression careful. "Talia, about your mother..."

She arches a brow and turns away from me, walking along the wall of windows and reaching out to trace the windowsill. "I don’t want to hear it unless it changes something between us; I don’t really care about me not having a mom. It’s not like I chose it for myself or anything."

I think about it for a long second. Does it actually change anything?

Talia is still pregnant with Burn’s baby. Soon to be my baby, if everything else goes to plan. In practical terms, that’s all that matters.

I suck in a deep breath and shake my head, entertaining her at last. "No, I don't think it makes a difference. This is the kind of thing that we need to know about each other, though. For instance, you should know that my mother is dead. You should know that my father is an alcoholic waste of space."

Talia reaches the end of the row of windows. She turns back, her other hand tracing the windowsill as she walks. "I didn’t know about your mom either. I’m sorry."

I huff, uncomfortable at her vulnerability. "It was a long time ago." As if that really mattered. As if it makes my mother less dead or fills in the hole she left in my life many years ago.

"I’m just telling you so that if anybody asks, you already know. Now stand up straight. Put your shoulders back and hold your head up high."

Her mouth turns down, but she walks out into the middle of the floor and sucks in a deep breath, adopting a formal posture. I walk over to her, my hand touching her shoulder and pulling it back a little more. Then I touch underneath her chin, lifting her head.

"There. This should be your resting posture when you are trying to impress people. Basically, any time that you’re around my family."