16. Selma

sixteen

Selma

I was well and truly sated.

Sighing, I fell back against the headrest of my chair, my entire body aching. With the weekend I'd just had, it was a wonder I could come to work today. Ashton had practically tied me to my bed for three nights, after which he'd proceeded to feast on my body like a ravenous tiger.

There hadn't been any complaints from my end, but I had let out various sounds ranging from soft purrs to shrilling screams. After fifty-four hours of mind-blowing sex, my pussy was sore, and my bones felt like sandpaper. But I couldn't find it in me to have any regrets. I would do it again. And again. The only problem was that it didn't matter how many times I had sex with Ashton…it would never be enough.

"Hmm." Maria looked at me with a weird expression on her beautifully made-up face. She had one leg crossed over the other and her chin resting on her elbow, which was digging into her thigh. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was studying me.

I immediately felt self-conscious. Unless she was clairvoyant, there was no way she could figure out how I'd spent my weekend.

Right?

"What?" I asked cautiously.

Maria smacked her lips. "I don't know. There's something different about you today. I can't put my finger on what it is."

I swallowed, willing myself not to look away. Maria was like a dog with a bone when she thought she found something worth knowing. She would hound you until you had no choice but to spill your guts. This trait of hers I particularly stayed clear of, though I'd witnessed firsthand how great of a weapon it was when she wielded it against other people.

I tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Ah, but you do. Your cheeks are pinker, and your skin is glowing. It can't be your makeup because I taught you to do it, and mine doesn't make me pop like that. The only thing I can think of is—"

"Maria, for the love of God."

"—that you had sex."

I made a strangled noise at the back of my throat, realizing too late that it was a grave mistake.

"Holy shit," she breathed, her back straightening and her eyes gleaming like she was an archeologist who'd just stumbled upon the greatest treasure in the world. "You did have sex!"

I pressed a hand to my forehead, rubbing slow circles. "Calm the fuck down. If you scream any louder, Rose will hear you."

Maria settled, but her eyes still sparkled. "Tell me everything. Who was it? Another one-night stand? It can't be Ash, given the way you look at him—Wait a fucking minute."

"Oh, my God." Who was I kidding? There was no hiding anything from Maria. Not when she was acting like a newly employed CIA agent.

"Was it Ash? Again?"

I really needed new friends. "If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Fuck no." She scoffed, falling back against her chair and regarding me through squinted eyes. "So? Was it him?"

Honestly, was there any point in denying it? I nodded with a sigh. "Fine. Yes, it was him. He moved into the apartment next to mine over the weekend, and one thing led to another, and we ended up having sex."

"Oh, my God." Maria laughed. "You've got to be shitting me. I thought you hated him?"

"I did," I countered. "I mean, I thought so too. This doesn't mean anything. He's just another guy, and it'll be over pretty soon."

Maria gave me a dubious look. I didn't blame her. I wasn't even convincing myself.

"I'll admit that I'm shocked," she said. "So the rumors are true, then?"

"What rumors?"

"The women he's been with say he's an amazing fuck. It must be true, seeing as you went back for seconds, and I think it's safe to say that you'll probably be going back for thirds."

She laughed, but I didn't find it funny. As a matter of fact, it pissed me off. I didn't let my annoyance show though. If I did, Maria would think I liked him or something.

What women, anyway? I almost asked. Women as in plural?

Of course, I didn't expect Ashton to be a virgin, not when he was quite adept at the intricacies of sex. But now I wondered how many women he'd been with to have become so proficient at the act. I didn't care one bit, but the thought of him fucking other women left a sour taste in my mouth. I almost asked Maria if she had been with me and only managed to stop myself because of how crazy asking such a question would make me look. It wasn't my business what Ashton did with his dick.

I shrugged one shoulder, reaching forward to unlock my iPad. "Probably not. I needed an itch scratched, and he was right there."

I had no idea why I was suddenly pissed off. Maybe it was the hormones. I'd awoken this morning with a terrible case of morning sickness and had to fix up a quick ginger tea to help keep the nausea down. This pregnancy fiasco was turning out to be a pain in the ass. Not only had I gotten stuck with Ashton, but my mother wasn't talking to me because of it.

After Friday night when I broke the news, she'd never called back. I tried calling numerous times the next day and the day after, but it went straight to voicemail.

The only reason I hadn't driven to her place was because I couldn't bear to see her right now. I couldn't handle the weight of her judgment without breaking down, and I feared that if I broke down, I wouldn't know how to stop.

My door suddenly burst open. With a startled gasp, I lifted my gaze, about to tell whoever it was off for barging into my office when I saw my mother marching toward me clad in a denim, waterfall dress and black flats, one hand gripping the Hermes handbag I'd bought her for her birthday two years ago.

I immediately sobered up, getting to my feet. "Mama?"

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Maria swing her head around. "Miss Volkov?"

My mother's face set into a deep frown as she stopped just before my desk and dropped her bag on the table. Standing beside Maria, she did not even bother to acknowledge her.

"Who is he?" she suddenly asked.

My heart began to race. I risked a glance at Maria, whose eyes remained fixed on her. "I don't understand, Mama. Who's who?"

Was it too far-fetched to hope that she would not mention the pregnancy out loud because I hadn't told Maria yet?

If I'd ever doubted the origins of my birth, all uncertainties immediately disappeared at the look my mother shot me. A look I recognized because I'd thrown it to numerous people numerous times when they said something foolish.

"Don't play around with me, young lady," my mother demanded. "Who's responsible for the child you're carrying?"

"What?" Maria coughed and spluttered, her eyes bulging so widely that I expected them to fall out. I licked my lower lip, tasting my expensive lip gloss. I would deal with her later. I had an angry mother on the loose, and she was taking all my attention.

My mother's gaze darted between Maria and me before she let out a scoff. "You haven't even told your best friend. How stupid of you."

"Mama." Tears swelled up in my eyes. I knew she was angry and disappointed, but I didn't expect her to go this far. "Please stop."

But she wasn't listening. "After years and years of toiling away to put food on your table—to make sure you lacked nothing—I'd hoped you'd at least learned something from my mistake. Your father was a good-for-nothing piece of shit who couldn't be bothered. And yet…" She shook her head, her eyes a mixture of despair and resentment, the latter directed at my father. "And yet, you went and let history repeat itself. So, tell me who the son of a bitch is that got you pregnant because I deserve to know."

One hot tear fell down my face, burning my skin with guilt. For the first time in my life, I wondered how deeply my father's betrayal had eaten into my mother's heart. Was that why she never got married or even had a boyfriend?

She'd once told me that my father had promised to marry her when she was pregnant with me. Obviously, he hadn't been a man of his word because the ring never came. Instead, he'd broken up with her and reduced his visits until one day, we waited, and he never came.

My heart broke for her, and right now, it was breaking even harder because I was the one who'd put that look of disappointment on her face. This wasn't the circumstances under which I'd promised to receive her at my office, and it physically hurt to hold her gaze.

"He's…" What? I thought. A friend? An employee? My neighbor? Fuck buddy? "Someone I met."

She scoffed, her eyes shining with brazen awe. "Someone you met? What, a one-night stand?" When I averted my gaze briefly, she blinked. "Selma, you slept with some random man, and you didn't think to use protection? What the hell have I been teaching you all these years? How can you be so stupid?"

"Mama!" I cried. "Can you just stop and listen to me for a moment?"

"What do you have to say for yourself that could possibly justify your recklessness? That you're sorry? That you didn't know you'd get pregnant? After having unprotected sex with a stranger, what did you expect? A pat on the back and a warning from God to not do it again?"

"Uh…Miss Volkov, I think you should calm down," Maria interjected, earning herself a death glare from my mother.

"And where were you, young lady, when this was happening?" she demanded.

Maria cleared her throat, looking incredibly small next to my mother. I would've felt pity for her, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.

"I'll shut up now," Maria squeaked, sinking into the chair. When faced with Matilda Volkov's wrath, a million Instagram followers is a negligible feat.

My mother faced me. "Is he going to marry you?"

I raised one brow. "That's ridiculous."

"Then get rid of it."

"What?" Maria and I exclaimed at the same time.

I stared at my mother in shock, wondering if I'd heard her right. She wanted me to get rid of my baby? That was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. My mother had always been pro-life, and while the circumstances couldn't have been more inconvenient, it was inconceivable that she would ask me to do something like that.

"I'm not going to do that, Mama," I said, my voice low. Desperation for her approval had long given way to anger, and I felt it boiling at the surface. "If you don't want to be involved in the child's life, that's fine. But I will not be getting rid of this baby."

Her nostrils flared. "You want to live the kind of life I did? One where you don't get to have time for yourself, and your entire life becomes about that child? You want to grow old and have nothing but regrets?"

I opened my mouth to respond but froze when her meaning settled around me. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, jolting me from the comfort of ignorance into the harsh reality of truth. It was as if the ground had shifted beneath my feet, leaving me unsteady and disoriented, grappling with the weight of a revelation I had never dared to consider.

"You…" My throat felt dry. "You have regrets?"

She huffed out a puff of air through her nostrils, her eyes watering. "Of course I do. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, but at the same time, raising you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I had no family to help me, and all my friends would rather be off doing their own thing than dealing with another person's child." She wiped under her eyes. "And it certainly didn't help that your asshole of a father was a bum who couldn't keep to his word. I had to drop out of school to work because I wanted to give you a life worth living."

Fresh tears pricked behind my eyes. For years, I had lived under the illusion that my mother's love was unwavering and unconditional, a steadfast beacon of support in an often tumultuous world. But now, faced with the painful truth that she had, in fact, harbored regrets about raising me alone, that illusion shattered into a million jagged pieces, leaving me raw and exposed to the harsh glare of reality.

And yet, amidst the turmoil of my conflicting emotions, there was a glimmer of understanding—a flicker of empathy for the woman who had sacrificed so much for my sake, only to be haunted by the ghosts of her unfulfilled dreams. It gave a deeper interpretation of her anger regarding the present circumstances and why she would ask me to get an abortion.

"And you did, Mama. I mean, look at me. I'm Selma Volkov." I smiled sadly through my tears. "People have crossed continents just to wear my designs, and it's all because of you. So, yes. It was hard being a single mother, but if anyone could make it work, you did."

My mother burst out crying, and I reached her in seconds, wrapping my arms around her and bringing her close to my body. "It's okay, Mama."

"I just want you to live a happy life with a man who will worship the ground you walk on," she wept. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Not really," Maria sniffed from my left, wiping her cheeks. I'd completely forgotten she was there.

Shaking my head at her theatrics, I sighed. "No, Mama. I'll find love. One day. Hopefully." I swallowed down a thick ball of spit. "I think."

"Selma," my mother scolded. "It's not funny."

How could I tell her that I'd completely given up on love? Not after the man I loved stole from me and eloped to start his own company with my cousin, who he claimed was better than me. It honestly didn't get worse than that.

I was so done with men. Every single one of them.

Not with Ashton, apparently, seeing as how you let him pummel you so hard, the baby had to have a bump on its head at this point.

I willed the voice in my head to shut up, because what did it know?

"I wasn't trying to be, Mama, but you have nothing to worry about. All in due time." If she found out I was sleeping with the man who'd gotten me pregnant, she'd grab me by the hand and offer me to him on a platter.

My words seemed to quell her apprehension, and she wrapped her arms around me, crying into my shoulder. I let her because how could I not? My mother was everything to me, and while I appreciated her sacrifices, I would make her see that, unlike her, I wasn't entirely unprepared for the throes of motherhood.

I had a job, albeit one still in the process of resuscitating, and I had some money in savings. Plus, there was Ashton, and something told me he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

I still didn't know how I felt about that, given that we'd spent the weekend together, but at the same time, we'd both carefully danced around the most enormous elephant that had ever been in a room. The plan was still to raise the baby alone, and that would not change, no matter what.

Maria came forward to wrap her arms around us, and we stayed like that for a long time, my mother crying softly, Maria sniffing, while I went through the motions.

I'd decided to keep this child, and I would, regardless of whatever anyone said. I wished the conditions had been more favorable, but they were what they were. All I wanted to do now was focus on releasing my new line, which would be ready in a few weeks, make some money, and repair the broken connections Alex and Iris's betrayal had impaired.

When that finally happened, I would look Alex in the eye and let him know that he'd made the right choice by choosing Iris, because I would never have watered myself down to become more digestible for him.

Ashton was right; he was a pussy.