Page 51 of Owned

Not even if it’s better for them?

The beast in me growled like wolf, savagely possessive as I tried to think logically. But logic was useless against the imperatives of that basic biological need.

And if she’s not pregnant?

I took a breath, then another. She might not be, in which case a decision still needed to be made about what to do given Charlotte’s schedule. I was already booked into the fertility clinic next week to give my little donation, but…

Do you really need to do that now?

My groin tightened, the thought of going bareback with Rowan making me even harder than I was already. Christ. She’d been so hot and tight, and so slippery, the feel of her sweet little pussy clutching around my cock insane. I didn’t want to go back to wearing a condom, that was for fucking sure, and besides, it seemed pointless now. Shutting the gate after the horse had bolted etcetera.

Of course that would mean having another conversation. Maybe Rowan wouldn’t like it, but surely sex with me was better than lying on a bed in a clinic with her feet in stirrups? Not that I’d let her do that anyway, not when the ache in my groin and the beast in my heart were arguing against it.

No, we were going to do this the old fashioned way until a pregnancy happened, and once it did, I needed a plan for what to do next. Because one thing was for sure. Charlotte was not going to take my kid, and she damn well wasn’t going to take Rowan either.

Conviction settled inside me. Rowan would have to move in with me, so I could protect her in case Charlotte decided to safeguard her surrogate. Rowan wouldn’t be happy about it, though, I knew that already. Her independent streak wouldn’t take kindly to me telling her what to do.

Too bad. This whole situation was in danger of spinning out of control if I didn’t take charge of it, and one thing I was very good at was taking charge.

I walked down the rest of the stairs before stalking into the kitchen, throwing together a late lunch as I went through options in my head.

Rowan moving in here would mean handling Cait, though that shouldn’t be an issue. I wouldn’t actively hurt Cait by taking Rowan away, not when Rowan had been her crutch for so long. But there were places she could go to recover mentally, places with lots of support. I knew of one that offered respite care for people with mental health issues, and Cait would probably like it. Again though, Rowan wouldn’t be happy. Still, as much as she was a crutch for Cait, given what she’d told me about caring for her, it seemed as if looking after Cait was a crutch for her, too. It would do her good not to have responsibility for Cait’s health weighing on her shoulders for a change.

Dealing with Cait was the easy part though. What I really had to do was figure out what to do about Charlotte.

I put food out on the long, roughly carved piece of oak that served as a dining table, then pulled my phone from my pocket and gave Ten a call.

“Atlas,” Ten answered, cool as usual. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just got married.” I turned and leaned back against the table. “You should congratulate me.”

He ignored that. “You went through with it then?”

“I told you I’d handle it and I did.”

“But there’s a problem, isn’t there?”

Perceptive bastard wasn’t he?

“Yeah,” I admitted. “There is. You might have been right about the whole kid situation.”

There was a silence.

“Oh?” Ten enquired delicately.

“Let’s just say that the marriage has become something more than a formality, and Charlotte might get her baby sooner rather than later.”

Ten was quiet.

“You’d better not being climbing up on that high horse,” I said when the silence had gone on too long. “Especially considering who’s riding along with you.”

Ten sighed. “I’m not judging, Atlas. God knows I’m hardly pure as the driven snow when it comes to that.”

“Good,” I said flatly. “But to bring it back to the kid thing, I think I was too hasty in dismissing your warning. I think if Rowan’s pregnant and Charlotte wants to take the baby, she might have to go through me first.”

Another silence.

“Please don’t say I told you so,” I went on, “because if you do, I’ll punch your fucking lights out.”

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