22. Clara

22

CLARA

N othing scared me more than that single word on the pregnancy test’s digital display yesterday. Pregnant. It flashed through my mind, growing brighter and brighter with each pulse.

My heart lived in my throat all night and well into the morning when I knew I’d have to face Ethan, Alexander, and Liam. I needed my work face, the fuck-off version that kept people from annoying me all day and made sure I finished my job on time. It escaped me. Every time I locked my face into an expression that would pass muster, I’d remember the test and crumple.

I almost called Mom, just to hear her voice, but I’d end up admitting everything because she was the sole source of comfort in my times of stress. Burdening her with this felt wrong on so many levels.

What about Alexander and the others? Should I come clean with them? The question hounded me all the way to work and through the short elevator ride to the conference room where I was scheduled to meet them.

Alexander stood outside the door, his face twisted in concern. “I tried to call you.” There was an accusation there.

I ignored it and waved a hand as nonchalantly as I could. “I had my phone on silent so I could rest.” Sweat slicked my palms, but I resisted the urge to wipe them on my sensible skirt and show off how nervous I felt. They would notice, and they would ask questions. Questions I did not have the energy to answer right now, and maybe not in the next few months.

I was pregnant with one of their children. I had no idea who the baby belonged to except me, and I wasn’t ready to give up any of that information.

“So you ignored all of us?” Ethan joined Alexander in the hallway. “We were worried, Clara.” His velvet voice pitched low and tense, the line of his shoulders drawn taut.

It was a sexy as fuck pose that I knew I’d ask him to repeat someday. But not now. Not here in the office where anyone close by could overhear. My pregnancy brought a whole new level of caution to our situation. I could be fired for what transpired between us.

“I didn’t mean to ignore anyone. I was tired.” There was enough truth in that to make my voice serious and bring my lips down in a tight frown. “I went to bed right after I made it home.” Again, true. I’d crawled from the bathroom to the bedroom, slipped between the covers, and laid there in a huddled, crying mess, until I finally fell asleep.

Thank goodness for makeup sturdy enough to hide the shadows beneath my eyes, though there wasn’t much I could do to relieve the puffiness in my face. They seemed willing to overlook that detail.

Liam closed in from behind me, the sound of his boots on the low carpet announcing his arrival even before I smelled the deep musk of his aftershave. “Should you be here today?” Concern laced with what almost sounded like anger turned me around.

Another reason I couldn’t admit to my pregnancy yet. If they were this worried over a little food poisoning, they’d most likely go bat shit crazy if they found out about my pregnancy. They were the type to try and send me home, telling me to put my feet up and not worry about a thing.

Fucking sexist bastards. I’d worked too hard to let them take me down like this. Pregnant or not, I had this under control.

My jaw locked with a familiar tension I found comforting. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to be concerned. It was just the bad food.” I infused my iron will into my voice and continued. “Don’t we have work to do?”

I’d lost myself to them, given them every part of me. It was time to take some of that back, to protect all of us. They could lose their jobs because of me. My heart dropped, the sudden wooziness making me unsteady on my feet. I locked my knees and moved into the center of the circle they created. There was comfort there if I was willing to accept it.

Not now. We had bigger problems, and I would not let them take the fall for what happened between us.

“Clara.” Liam’s fingertips skimmed the outer edge of my arm.

I pulled away, hating every second without them. “You’re making a scene. I’m just another employee.” I lowered my head to keep from seeing the confusion and hurt in his eyes. They didn’t deserve anger, but I had to get them to see past their worry. “I’m going to work in my cubicle today. Email me if anything comes up.”

With my purse tight to my side and my head up so my chin wouldn’t quiver, I walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. If anyone found out, the scandal would stretch far beyond the four of us. It would affect my baby. I longed to run a hand over my stomach, to offer a touch of reassurance to the life growing there. “Nothing will hurt you.” I swore it under my breath, the heat of my words thrusting away my fear. My steps quickened as I burst through the elevator doors and slammed my finger into the button for my floor. Distance and time. Those two things were my salvation, my one hope of keeping the scandal from bursting out into my work life and potentially ruining everything between us.

The elevator’s quiet reprieve gave me a chance to settle my nerves and gather myself for facing the room where all my colleagues worked.

We knew each other well enough that they nodded and smiled when I left the elevator and made my way to my workstation. A dozen of us had desks in the room that overlooked the northern ski slope. Margaret, Robbie, Taryn, and Allan all looked up when I crossed to my desk and sat. A long, unsteady breath passed my lips.

“What brings you back down here?” Robbie shuffled over, her sketchpad tight over her stomach. Her smile was warm and friendly. “I thought for sure we’d be seeing your name in an email saying you’d been promoted.”

I showed her my crossed fingers. “From your lips to the design god’s ears. If this project goes well, it still might happen.” The potential of the Harrington project clouded over me. If I failed, I risked never rising among the ranks here. But if I succeeded—when, when I succeeded—I had every chance of becoming a senior architect. “What are you working on?” I motioned at Robbie’s sketchpad. She loved working on paper, and her designs were flawless. I’d seen her take an old, abandoned ski resort and turn it into a brand-new design that had started a bidding war. She had talent to spare and a smile for everyone.

“Nothing much. There’s a developer downtown who’s wanting to add in a new series of shops to his mall.” She turned the paper around to show me. “There isn’t room for everything he’s wanting to do. No matter how I redesign it, it won’t work.” Her mouth puckered into a crimson pout. “Any ideas?”

I examined the drawing from several angles. “Is this the same place that…” my words trailed off as a tide of nausea swept through me. I pressed my knuckles into my mouth and closed my eyes. Tears pricked hard and fast. I’d hoped the nausea would stay away, especially today of all days. “Sorry,” I muttered from behind my hand. “Having a rough time with a bout of food poisoning.”

A soft snort cut in from the direction where Allan sat.

I concentrated on swallowing down the rising bile and removing the threat of tears without smudging my makeup. I sniffed and cleared my throat.

Robbie sat across from me, her sketchpad in her lap. “Sure you’re okay? You went super pale, and your hands are shaking.”

“Fine.” I locked my hands together in my lap and prayed for my stomach to settle. “Tell me more about this project.”

Robbie launched into an in-depth tale of what the client wanted and how she was struggling to make it all come together. For her to be struggling after all I’d seen her accomplish, there must be more to the story. She set her elbow on my desk and leaned over her sketchpad. “I don’t like this guy, Clara. He gives me the creeps. I keep trying to avoid spending time with him.”

“Tell someone.” I met her eyes, hoping to give her courage. “Do you want me to mention it for you?”

“Would you?” She picked at the edge of the paper. “I can’t keep putting off the real design, but he’s already said, demanded really, that we meet in person to go over the details.”

“Give me until the end of the day. I’ll get something done.” No way in hell I’d let anyone take advantage of their position. Robbie was a hard nut to crack. If she was uncomfortable dealing with this guy, he must be a real sleazeball. “Do not meet with him. I don’t care what he says.”

Relief released the crease in her forehead. “Thanks.”

“Hey. We’re a team. You can always come to me with this stuff.” I cast a quick look around. “And you should tell Mr. Thorne about this guy. If he’s making female employees uncomfortable, he needs to know.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Robbie shot a look over my shoulder. “They’ve been real good about keeping the creeps out of this place.”

Allan. She had to be talking about Allan. I understood her frustration. Allan was a menace, but because no one could prove he’d done anything wrong and he had a long work history with the company, he kept getting away with his stupid remarks and unnecessary touching.

Robbie’s desk phone rang. She made a face and stood. “That’s probably him.”

“Remember what I said.” I held up a warning finger. “Under no circumstances should you be alone with him.”

Her grateful smile slipped away as her steps carried her back to her desk, where she sank into her chair and slumped toward the phone. Pencils scratched on paper and keys clacked. All around me, people went about their day, either not knowing or not caring what others were going through. I’d always tried to be present for others, to make sure they felt heard the way I needed. I’d thought they heard me—Alexander, Ethan, and Liam—but it seemed they were more concerned with progress than employee safety.

Maybe I was being too hard on them, but my emotions and feelings were valid. They deserved to be heard and actions taken.

My phone dinged with a text message. I swept the phone up and tapped the screen.

You can’t hide what you did.

Cold chills slithered down my spine, my veins turning to ice. I leaped to my feet and bolted to the women's bathroom in the hallway.

My stomach emptied, but my head swam with the full extent of the threat. Did I show Ethan the text? He’d ignored the last one and shunted aside my worries about Allan. What assurance did I have that he’d pay attention this time? Once my stomach stopped churning, I cleaned up and returned to my desk.

All I wanted was to lay my head down and sleep. Instead, I picked up my stylus and focused on the drawing pad where my designs came to life. My vision swam, and I thumbed the edges of my eyes until they cleared.

“Are you okay?” Allan rolled his chair over, bumping up against my side.

I angled my elbow so I remained out of reach and doodled on the blank page. “Ever had food poisoning?”

“Once.” He almost sounded sympathetic. Almost. There was a coldness in him that pricked my skin and made me want to run from the room. “It was rough.” He set his elbow on my arm rest, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Back the fuck off before I puke on you.” I knocked his hand away. “Stop touching me. I won’t warn you again.” I locked eyes with him, a shudder threatening at the gleam in his eyes. “Next time you put any part of you close to me, I’ll break it off. Understand?”

His cutting laugh spread through the room, oozing like oil and coating everything it touched. The sound said he didn’t believe me. That there was nothing I could do to stop him.