“I saw your face when you thought he might have hurt me.”
His jaw tightened.
“You looked afraid.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
He stepped closer.
“Clare.”
She kissed him.
Four years of careful distance disappeared in one decision.
Adrien stopped just long enough to make sure she was looking directly at him.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes.”
That was all he needed.
The next morning, Clare woke before sunrise and panicked.
The night did not feel like a mistake.
That was exactly why she left.
She worked for him.
He was Adrien Romano.
Their professional lives were already tangled enough without adding whatever that night might become.
Adrien never forced the conversation afterward.
Clare never started it.
Then came the nausea.
The exhaustion.
The sudden aversion to coffee.
And the tests.
At 11:50 that Wednesday, Clare put her phone on silent and headed for the elevator.
Nick was waiting.
She stopped in front of him.
“You promised distance.”
“I’m excellent at distance.”
“How excellent?”
“You won’t know I’m there unless you look for me.”
“No company car.”
“Fine.”
“No driver waiting at the curb.”
“Fine.”
“No one comes into the doctor’s office.”
Nick lifted both hands.
“I have boundaries.”
The elevator opened.
“I’ll be back in ninety minutes.”
“Text when you leave.”
“You’re following me.”
“Humor me.”
The doors closed between them.
Clare took the subway uptown and walked three blocks to a small women’s health practice on East 72nd Street.
Its ordinariness comforted her.
A quiet receptionist. A watercolor of Central Park. Clean chairs. A shelf of magazines nobody seemed to read.
She paid with her own debit card because she wanted the appointment separated from any company insurance paperwork that might someday pass through Romano Holdings.
Dr. Evan Cole was fifty-two, patient, and matter-of-fact.
He listened as Clare described the home tests, nausea, her last menstrual period, and the date she believed conception had occurred.
After blood work and an ultrasound, he turned the screen slightly.
“You’re measuring about nine weeks.”
Clare stared at the gray image.
A tiny flicker pulsed at the center.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Cole said.
She covered her mouth.
The pregnancy became real in a way three plastic tests had failed to accomplish.
“Everything looks appropriate for this stage. We’ll schedule the next appointment and review prenatal vitamins.”
Clare blinked back tears.
“Is the baby okay?”
“Based on what we see today, yes.”
He printed the ultrasound image.
Clare slipped it into her purse as though the paper itself required protection.
When she stepped outside, Nick stood across the street near a dark sedan.
She crossed toward him.
“That is not distance.”
“It was until you started looking for me.”
“Did you tell Adrien where I was?”
Nick hesitated.
Clare closed her eyes.
“Nick.”
“I told him the address after you went inside. That’s all. I don’t know what kind of appointment you had.”
“You know it’s a women’s health office.”
“I know what the sign says. That isn’t the same as knowing why you went in.”
He studied her face and understood enough to stop talking.
Nick opened the rear door of the sedan.
“Let me take you back.”
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Clare.”
“A cab.”
He let her go.
By the time Clare returned to Romano Holdings, Adrien had the clinic address, her recent symptoms, the memory of one night seven weeks earlier, and one unanswered question.
The ginger tea did the rest.
Now she stood in his office with her arms folded.
“Nick told you.”
“He told me where you went.”
“You called the clinic.”
“No.”
“You had somebody check my file.”
Adrien’s expression cooled.
“No.”
Clare searched his face.
“Then how did you know?”
“I didn’t know. I suspected.”
He nodded toward the tea.
“Now I know.”
Clare looked down.
Her hand had settled over her abdomen again.
She dropped it.
Adrien remained where he was.
“How far along?”
The question carried his usual authority, and Clare stiffened.
He caught it immediately.
“I’m asking. You don’t have to answer.”
That softened something in her.
“About nine weeks.”
The timing was obvious.
His eyes changed.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
Adrien turned toward the windows and took one deliberate breath.
Clare had prepared herself for anger, denial, calculation, possibly lawyers.
What she heard instead was the slightest crack in his voice.
“Is the baby all right?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Good.”
Clare looked away before he could see how deeply that answer affected her.
“I was going to tell you when I knew what I was doing.”
“HR sent me your resignation this morning.”
She looked back at him.
The resignation was scheduled to take effect in two weeks. Because Clare reported directly to Adrien, HR had routed it to him for acknowledgement.
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