Page 17 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
I opened the folder and spread the papers across the table, each document a step toward the future I had mapped out for myself.
The Manhattan Fertility Center had the highest success rates for women my age, but their costs made my eyes water. TheAtlanta clinic offered payment plans, but their statistics were less encouraging, and it was so far away too.
I reached for my wine and took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest. The numbers on the pages blurred slightly as I calculated and recalculated the timeline.
Six months to save enough for the initial consultation and testing. Another four months for the actual procedure if everything went smoothly, and by the time I was twenty-seven, I could be pregnant.
The plan should've filled me with excitement, but a strange hollowness accompanied it. I had convinced myself that a baby would complete the picture, would fill the space that career achievements hadn't managed to touch.
Yet sitting here in my quiet apartment, staring at the clinical language of medical procedures, the dream felt more distant than ever.
My phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn't my mother's name on the screen. It was a text from Lucian.
Lucian 4:18 PM: How was your weekend?
Four weeks had passed since the gala, since the night that had turned my orderly world upside down. He had been messaging me regularly since then, never crossing professional lines during work hours but finding ways to reach out in the evenings.
And every time he messaged me, there was an undercurrent of a reminder—he wanted me, for some reason, and he wasn’t backing down.
I set my wine aside and stared at the screen. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I considered my response.
Professional distance would be the smart choice. To keep the boundaries clear.
But I remembered the way he'd made me feel that night, and then the way he spoke to me as I left the next morning, with such a possessive tone, it almost made me want to stay.
I chose neutral ground as I replied.
Tessa 4:21 PM: Quiet weekend. Catching up on some personal projects.
His response came quickly, like he was anxious to have the conversation with me. I knew he probably was with as many times as he'd sent these little sweet messages.
Lucian 4:21 PM: What sort of projects?
I glanced at the fertility clinic brochures spread across my coffee table. The irony was almost laughable.
Here I was, planning to have a baby alone while the man who had ignited something unexpected in me waited for my response. I wasn't about to tell him my real plans, so I gave him another neutral-territory answer.
Tessa 4:23 PM: Research, mostly. Planning for the future.
Lucian 4:23 PM: The future's important. Though sometimes, the present deserves attention too.
The flutter in my chest was becoming familiar, that mixture of anticipation and apprehension his messages triggered.
I told myself repeatedly that the night at his penthouse had been an anomaly, a moment of weakness brought on by extraordinary circumstances. But his continued interest suggested otherwise.
It baffled me since he was so much older than me, but then I thought about how a man his age sleeping with a woman my age would bolster bragging rights.
I hated to think that way about him, but he had no good reason to want me.
Sure, I was a good-looking woman, but he had billions, and he was incredibly attractive. The way my mind wrestled withall his possible motives forced me to pull back and remain cautiously reserved.
Though my body was on fire as I remembered how amazing he made me feel. And his stamina—men half his age couldn’t do what he did to me all night long.
Tessa 4:24 PM: Some futures require more planning than others.
Lucian 4:24 PM: True. But the best opportunities often come when we're least prepared for them.
I could picture him typing, probably in his home office, or maybe lying in bed with nothing on. God, what was wrong with me?
