Page 86 of Billionaire Accidental Daddy

“He’s out of the office at the moment,” Lucinda confirms. “I’d recommend arriving soon.”

I sigh, tell her I’ll be there, and hang up.

I’m about to take the subway, when I remember I want to get there as fast as possible to avoid Cole.

I flag down a cab instead.At least this is the last time I’ll have to rush to Ashford Marketing, I think wryly.

Unfortunately, it’s not as funny as I want it to be.

Lucinda meetsme outside the elevator and leads me to the conference room. There’s a giant rectangular package at the far end of the room, wrapped in brown butcher paper.

“Please wait here. The relevant person will be with you shortly.” Then she leaves me alone in the big room, presumably to go get Linda from HR or maybe Edgar from payroll.

I wait.

No one comes. I pace the room. After the grief and exhaustion of the past week, I’m suddenly bristling with nervous energy. If someone doesn’t show up soon, Cole might come back before I can finish. I might see him.

That would be bad.

Right?

I don’t want to see his sharp eyes. I don’t want to see his hair all messed up and know it’s because he’s been running his handsthrough it while he works out an especially tough problem. I don’t want to see those strong hands.

Ican’tsee his smile. I can’t.

I don’t want to look at his face, and know he misses me.

I rub a hand protectively over my stomach. I don’t know if I’m trying to reassure myself or the baby. Maybe both.

Just don’t think about him, I tell myself,think about anything else.

My eyes search the room for inspiration and fall on the mysterious package. There’s writing on one corner. Maybe it says what it is.

It’s a weird shape, flat and rectangular like a giant flatscreen TV. Or maybe a wall-size pane of glass?

I approach and read the writing.

Property of Amelia Maguire.

It takes me a moment to recognize Cole’s handwriting. It’s neater than his handwriting normally is. Like he was careful when he wrote it.

What the hell is he playing at? If he’s trying to win me back with gifts, he’s going about it the wrong way. Even if I could be swayed with gifts, I can’t think of anything this shape and size I’d actually want.

I mean, it’s sort of the shape of...

“No,” I breathe. “He wouldn’t...”

I reach for a strip of butcher paper and tear. I see bubble wrap underneath. Beneath the clear plastic, I can just make out the bright colors of a painting.

Colors that match one very specific painting. Except Cole doesn’t own that painting.

My hands shake as I pull off more butcher paper.

Cole said he’d never ask his dad for anything. Ever.

I get most of the butcher paper off, and it looks like...but I still can’t believe it.

I dig around my purse until I find the tiny pair of sewing scissors, I keep forgetting to return to Maddy. I use them to cut away at the bubble wrap in aggravatingly tiny strokes. I’m making a mess, and I don’t care.

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