Chapter 7

"Baby?" My hand drops to my stomach, and unfamiliar lace slides beneath my palm.

A whine of distress leaves me, and my eyes dart to the driver as I try to cover myself. I don't want strangers to see me like this. It's already bad enough that Nolan has witnessed me at my worst after I snuck out on him this morning.

Shame rises in me, and tears fall down my cheeks as I cross my arms over myself. "Why did you pretend you didn't Mark me? Is it because I work in your strip club? Or because I'm dirty?"

His expression turns fierce. "Never say that again."

"But I made you…" I pull my legs up onto the seat and cross my ankles, trying to hide myself. "And I was going to?—"

A sob cuts me off, and my shoulders shake.

"It's okay, sweet boy." He shrugs out of his suit jacket and wraps it around my body, his scent enveloping me. "You didn't make me do anything."

"I didn't want to work in the back rooms, but I was going to do it." Shivers run through me, and I pull the jacket tighter around myself. "I need the money— Oh, god, Tony's going to fire me. I need to?—"

Outside the car windows, the city rushes by.

When did we leave the club? I can't remember, and panic sets in. How long have I already been gone?

If I don't go back to Velvet Oasis, that's it for me. There's no way Tony will give me a third chance. I need to go back.

Lunging forward, I grab the back of the driver's seat. "Please, turn around. I need to?—"

"You're not going back there." Firm, gentle hands draw me onto Nolan's lap, and the pheromones that flood from his body help to calm my panic. "Didn't I say I would take care of you?"

Straddling his powerful thighs, I clutch the front of his shirt. "You don't understand. Without this job, I?—"

More sobs drown out the rest of my words.

"It will be okay. Everything will be okay." He wipes the tears from my eyes and cradles my face in his hands. "Now, tell me what drugs you took. And is this the first time? Or is this an ongoing addiction? Who supplied you?"

"Ongoing…" I stare at him blankly. "I can't afford drugs. I can't even afford suppressants right now."

"Good, that makes things easier." His thumbs sweep over my wet cheeks. "Do you know what you took? And who supplies it?"

"I don't know. One of the boys gave it to me. He said it would help make things easier…" My face crumples. "It didn't make things easier. Tony was going to give me to Rich. I didn't want to go."

Rage twists his features before his expression gentles. "It's okay. Come here. Everything will be okay."

His hands move to my back, and he draws me forward until our chests rest flush against each other. Then his palm on the back of my head urges it down to rest against his shoulder, near the spot behind his ear that smells the sweetest.

A low rumble vibrates from his chest, traveling through me, and I melt against him. My hold on his shirt relaxes, and my arms wrap around him, needing his warmth to anchor me so I don't spiral back into anxious panic.

Nolan will make everything okay.

Distantly, his voice fills the car, but the gentle sweep of his hand over my back tells me I don't need to pay attention. All I need to do is breathe him in and let the rest of the world fade to nothing.

"He should recover, but he needs nutrients," a voice murmurs, drawing me up from unconsciousness. "He's extremely malnourished. If he's pregnant, he needs to take better care of himself, or he won't be healthy enough to carry to term."

Nolan's voice joins the other one. "When will we know for sure?"

"The earliest is ten days after the end of his last Heat." A metallic snap fills the room. "I can return at the end of next week. Until then, make sure he eats."

"I will." Footsteps sound, and Nolan's voice grows distant. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Dr. Wallace."

"Of course. The Rockford family has done a lot for my organization. We're in your debt."

A door closes, followed by the return of only one set of feet. A moment later, the bed I lie on dips, and a callused hand smooths back my hair. "Leo, are you awake?"

I groan and crack open my lids. My eyes feel gritty and swollen from crying, and it takes a second for the room to swim into view. When it does, it's not the modern bedroom I woke up in this morning. Instead, antique, dark-wood furniture fills the space, with a built-in wardrobe directly across from me and an archway that leads to what looks like a sitting room.

Confused, I search the room for a hint of familiarity. "Where am I?"

One corner of his lips quirks up. "Since you found my townhouse so objectionable that you crawled out a window to escape, I brought you to my family home instead. You'll find that the buses don't come to this neighborhood."

My gaze jerks up to meet his. "I'm so sorry, I?—"

He presses a finger over my lips. "Hold that thought."

Rising from the bed, he strides into the sitting room and returns with a tray. He carries it to the bed and sets it on the nightstand.

The smell of savory food drifts out from under a silver dome, and my stomach lets out a hungry rumble.

"Here, let me help you sit up." Nolan turns to me and peels back the covers before I can protest.

I stare down in confusion at the large nightshirt I wear as he helps me into an upright position. He stacks pillows between my back and the large, wooden headboard before draping the comforter over my legs.

Once I'm settled, he grabs the tray and places it on my lap, lifting away the lid. "I wasn't sure of your preferences, so if you don't like this, I can order you something else from the kitchen."

A large sweet potato takes up half the plate, the center swimming with brown sugar, butter, and pecans. Next to it, a delicate filet of salmon with pinwheels of lemon and dill garnishes rests next to vibrant green broccoli.

I stare down at the plate. There's not a speck of mold or any sign that the food is near its expiration. No stale bread or canned beans. My mind yells that this is too good for me, that I don't deserve it, and tears burn my eyes.

"Do you hate salmon?" Nolan sits on the edge of the bed. "Or do you prefer mashed potatoes?"

I lift my eyes from the treasure trove of food in front of me, and the tears spill over. "Mr. Rockford, this is too much."

He lifts a cloth napkin from my tray and dabs my cheeks. "What happened to calling me Nolan?"

My mouth works, but words escape me as the memory of all the times I said his name ring in my ears. Me crying out in pleasure. Me begging for him to put a baby in my belly. Me clinging to him.

It's all too humiliating.

He picks up the fork and presses it into my fingers. "Eat. You need your strength."

The words trigger more memories of when I was drugged, my thoughts hazy, but one word sticks out. Baby. I may be carrying a baby.

Nolan'sbaby.

We hadn't used protection during my Heat, and I hadn't even considered the consequences of that when I agreed to become one of Tony's whores. I took drugs, for god's sake.

What if I hurt the small life growing inside me? I don't deserve this kindness from Nolan. Trash like me should never have touched him, let alone been allowed inside his family home.

My hand shakes, and the fork clatters against the plate.

"Here." Nolan takes the utensil, scoops up some of the soft sweet potato, and holds it to my lips. "Open for me."

My lips part automatically, and the savory sweet morsel slides into my mouth, tasting like the life I lost when Gino showed up at my door, and I realized I no longer had control of what happened to me.

A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past it. "I shouldn't be here. I need to leave."

Nolan breaks off a piece of flaky pink salmon. "No."

"What—" The fork sliding past my lips stops me, and the salmon melts on my tongue.

"You seem to keep forgetting, so now that your mind is clear from the drugs and the fever, I'll say it again." Nolan spears a piece of broccoli and stuffs it into my mouth. "I'm taking care of you now. Which means you're not leaving."

All I can do is stare at him in confusion. What does that even mean?

He sets the fork down and stands. "Eat the rest of your food. I have business to attend to, but I'll be back in a few hours. You have free rein of our suite, so use whatever you like. You can leave the tray on the nightstand when you're done."

Eyes wide, I watch him head for the sitting room before his words fully sink in. I choke down the bite of broccoli and move the tray onto the nightstand before flinging back the covers.

My legs shake when I climb out of bed, and the nightshirt only reaches to mid-thigh. The carpet sinks beneath my bare feet as I hurry after him. "Mr. Rockford, wait."

I reach the sitting room just as the bedroom door closes, and the snick of a lock pierces the air.

Disbelief washes through me as I rush to the door and jiggle the handle, but it refuses to open.

I just went from being one of Nolan's employees to being his prisoner, and the only people who care if I disappear are my landlord and my loan shark.