Page 27 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“Is that the sense you got from him?” Her twin’s stare was hard.
“. . .no.”
“The issue is you this time. You know if I got even a whiff of a red flag, I would be the first one to sit on you and bellow no in your ear. Girl. This is all your issues. You have to call him and tell him. You don't want to be a single mom. Don’t do that to your kid.”
Charlotte nodded, shoulders hunching. “Is he going to think I did this on purpose to trap him?”
“Are you reading too many secret baby enemies-to-lovers romance novels? Doesn't hewantto be trapped? You said he was talking long term and babies right away. Then he slept with you with no condom. Maybehewas trying to trapyou.”
“Why hasn't he gotten in contact with me! It's been six weeks.”
“Gee, I wonder. Because you told him to give you space and that you would contact him, and Orc males are raised to obey women. You told him that if he violated your boundary, that would be it. Game over. He's doing what you asked him to do like a good little bitch. If he’d asked me, I could have told him that shit never works the way you think it does.”
Charlotte muttered something under her breath but didn't bother to repeat it louder.
Caro straightened off the sink. “Tell him. Because all of this angst you're going through over a surprise pregnancy?” She gestured. “Unnecessary. Not when the father is waiting and willing to stand by you. The miscommunication trope drives me fucking insane, man,” she added as she stormed out. “Too stupid to live shit.”
Sighing, Charlotte pushed up off the bathtub ledge and grabbed her smartphone, pulling up the last text she'd sent to Brahnt.
She hesitated, then;
Hi. It's Charlotte, from MillionOrc Agency. We talked six weeks ago?
“Talked” sounded so goddamn insecure—but better than hooked up. She couldn’t admit that in a text, it could get her kicked out of the agency if Brahnt was feeling vindictive. Also she didn't want to ASSume Brahnt remembered her.
If youd like, can we talk? If you don't want to, I get it. Charlotte.
She hit send and grimacing, set it back down on the sink then braced herself on her hands, staring at her face.
“Oh my god. A baby.”
Straightening, she decided to bury herself in Netflix versus brooding, and grabbed her phone just as it began ringing.
Startled, she almost dropped it, her fingers clenching out of reflex. She hit accept call and cleared her throat. “Oh, hey. It's Charlotte. Is this Brahnt?”
Idiot. Caller ID said Possible Bad Decision #349.
“You wanted to talk, Charlotte.”
She closed her eyes, almost shuddering. That cool, smooth voice with a hint of reserve, a hint of dominant amusement. . .and a hint, a strong hint, of disapproval.
“Yes. I mean, if you're not busy. If you want to. Look, I shouldn't have texted you—”
“I’m on my way. Don't leave your apartment.”
Brahnt disconnected the call.
Charlotte stared at the screen. “Okay then.”
Wait.
“How the hell doeshe know my unit?”
The man either had a helicopter or a magic wand, because despite New York’s traffic, he reached Charlotte's place only twenty minutes after he disconnected the call.
They stared at each other.
“Can I come in?” Brahnt asked, lifting an eyebrow.
