Page 77 of Act Like You Don't Care
She sighed. "Don't destroy any more of your career than you already have, okay? I'll call you later with a couple of possible options to replace Margaret's film."
“Fine. Do that." I hung up on her and buried my head in the pillow. Some days, I hated my omega status so much.
Then my hand stole down to press against my still flat stomach and I imagined a little Miles or a little... Milette? Miley? growing down there and I felt this weird swell of emotion that I couldn't identify at first.
It was only once I'd showered and then failed to keep my breakfast down and ended up feeding it to Badness that I recognized it for what it was--I was already head over feet in love with my baby.
Which meant I absolutely had to convince Margaret Grant to work with me. I would have the best for this baby, no expense spared, and I wasn't going to let anyone stop me. Not even Margaret Grant.
An hour later found me riding the elevator up to Margaret's office again. There were already two people sitting on the plush couches in her waiting room to get in to see her, but I let the secretary know who I was and that I only wanted a couple of minutes with Ms. Grant and I was willing to wait.
And wait I did. All the rest of the morning and through the afternoon. I was almost glad for the nausea because it meant I had almost no interest in eating, which made the long hours pass a little easier.
Finally, at nearly six-thirty at night, Margaret herself exited her office, dropping a stack of folders onto her secretary's desk with a rapid-fire staccato of instructions on what needed to be done with them.
Then she turned her attention to me. "Well, you are certainly wonderfully stubborn. That part of your reputation was apparently not an exaggeration."
I stood up. "We should talk."
"What is there to talk about?" she replied in a friendly tone, as if we were simply discussing which restaurant to go to for a meal.
"Quite a bit, I believe," I replied, matching her tone as best I could. "May I walk you to your car?" Polite, so polite, like my mother had taught me all those years ago.
Margaret's eyebrows lifted, but she turned to her secretary and said, "Never mind. You can finish those up tomorrow, Stephanie. It's been a long day." Then she moved toward the door, tossing words back over her shoulder to me. “Speak quickly, I’m late.”
I hurried to catch up, then matched her pace as we walked toward the elevator. “I’d like you to reconsider canceling my contract.”
“Oh, my dear, really? No, that’s done. We’ve already started putting out feelers for your replacement. The studio is seriously upset at the change in the schedule.”
“It doesn’t have to change. I’m fully prepared to work as hard or harder than I usually do, despite my… condition.” I didn’t want the word getting out before I was ready for it.
We paused in front of the elevator doors along with a couple of other office drones leaving for the day. The elevator doors opened and Margaret walked in. I followed her, but when the other people waiting would have followed me, I blocked the door and hit the button to close it. "Catch the next one," I said shortly and stayed there until the door closed in their faces.
"Very alpha-like," Margaret said dryly.
"You won't set me off with that," I told her. I leaned against the wall of the elevator and met her eyes. "When it comes to my career, I'm all business. Although if it takes a temper tantrum to keep someone from sending me off down the wrong career path, then yeah, I'll tantrum away until they back down."
"You won't find a tantrum will back me down," she said.
"Good. I wouldn't need them with you anyway." She gave me an inquiring look, so I explained. "I like what you do, and I know you won't ask me to do silly things. You won't see any temper because you've got better taste and you pick your projects well enough that you don't need to stoop to cheap gimmicks to get your box office money." I resettled my hat on my head, pushing the brim up out of the way so she could see my face clearly. "Yeah, my birth control failed in the middle of that stalker thing. It happens, they tell me. And I'm not going to punish the baby just because it doesn't fit into my schedule."
The elevator doors opened and we stepped out into the underground parking. "That's all very fine and noble of you, but I don't see why I should make excuses for you because of it. Movies are tightly scheduled--I can't give you extra days off because you're tired or not feeling well. When we're working, we'll be working."
I nodded. "I agree with that. I'm not going to ask for special treatment. I’m not fragile." I thought about it for a second. "Doctor's appointments would have to be an exception, but I can work those around the shooting schedule too." I stopped her with a hand on her arm as we reached her car. "I need this, Margaret, and I'm willing to work as hard as you've ever seen anyone work to keep it. You know as well as I do that I've been lurking around the edges here—this will finally show the world that I can handle a major role in something that isn't just action. And with the baby coming, being established is even more important to me than ever. So, whatever you ask me to do, I'll do it." I paused and took a breath. "I'll even agree to let a stunt man do all my stunts. That will save you some money on the insurance premiums, right? Maybe not enough to cover all the costs of adjusting the schedule, but I'll talk to Summer and we can revisit the contract to see where else we can cut."
"You're willing to go that far?" Her eyes searched my face as if she was trying to decide if the strength of my words was matched by the strength of my commitment.
"Only for you. Only for this role." I wasn't going to set that precedent for anyone else.
"Hmmm," she said. I saw her eyes flick down to my belly, then she looked me straight in the eye and asked the question I'd been expecting. "And the father? Is he in the picture?"
"It's...complicated," I began. "He is, but we're not involved that way. I've invited him to be a part of the baby's life. He's a good man, and reliable. The child shouldn't slow me down any after it's born."
She looked thoughtful at that. I waited and tried not to look like I was as close to a breakdown as I was.
"Let me think about it," she finally said and unlocked her car door. "Goodnight, Mr. Laydon."
"Goodnight, Ms. Grant," I replied automatically and stepped to one side to watch her drive away, all my hopes trailing along after her.
