Page 128 of The Billionaire's Baby
Karina
"He spied on you?" Isla scowls at me from across the table.
We’re at the bar above the National Portrait Gallery, my favorite drinking spot. Also, the second favorite place I like to go to when I want to think. Normally, I’d have gone for an Ashtanga yoga class, but my bloody period means that’s out. Not that I haven’t tried to fit in yoga sessions when I have my period, but given the kind of cramps I have during this time, I find it uncomfortable to take part in any overt physical activity. For all of my best intentions, my body has a will of its own, apparently. Just like my wanting to get pregnant and my body declaring otherwise.
It’s been forty-eight hours since I told off that asshole. Forty-eight hours since I found out I hadn't conceived. Which means I can drink all I want, right? Bonus: it will help with the cramps. I raise the shot of vodka, and toss back the remnants.
Isla’s eyebrows rise. "You okay?"
"What do you think?"
"Considering how you're tossing back the alcohol, I’d say you’re upset."
"Understatement of the year." I gesture to the bartender for a refill. "And just so we are clear—he didn’t spy on me; he stalked me."
"Stalked you?" She frowns.
"Asshole had cameras in my house. " My fingers tighten around my glass of wine. "The bastard rented the apartment down the hall from me so he could keep an eye on me."
"Whoa." She leans back on the barstool. "That’s some crazy shit."
"Exactly."
The bartender tops up my vodka and I nod my thanks.
"How do you think Sinclair, Saint, Weston and Damian found out everything they wanted about their women?"
She frowns, "Are you saying they stalked their now-wives and girlfriends?"
I stare at her. "I can’t reveal client confidences."
"So, they did stalk the girls?"
I raise my shoulders. And now I know how it feels to be on the other side. I lower my face, stare down into the depths of my shot glass.
She sighs. "The Seven are complicated men. Alphaholes to the extreme, and yet, when they set their hearts on something—or someone, they don’t stop until they possess the object of their obsession."
"Tell me about it." I snort. “I’ve seen it all unfold in front of me."
"You have to admit, there’s something hot about being the focus of all that intensity."
I stare at her in disbelief. "It’s more like an invasion of my privacy."
She nods. "Shows how much he wants you—that he’ll go to any lengths to get you."
"Well, he can fuck right off if he thinks that’s the way to woo me," I snarl. "And I can’t believe you’re saying this. This is real life, Isla. It’s not one of those romance novels you like to read so much."
"Hey," she protests, "don’t mock my kink, and I won’t mock yours."
"Kink, what kink are you two talking about?" A new voice asks from behind me. I turn to find a young girl…dressed in skinny jeans, chucks, a purple blouse that matches the highlights in her hair.
"Ava," Isla exclaims, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to the gallery to complete a project, then my friends and I decided to come up here for a drink." She laughs.
"Are you of legal age?" I huff.
"You can order your own drinks if you are over eighteen, which I am." She tilts her head and furrows her brow. "After all, this is England."
