CHAPTER TWO
1149 Words
KIANA.
I downed an entire bottle of water as Mason and I got ready to head out the door to the board meeting. The palms of my hands were clammy, my forehead slick with sweat, even against the chilled-to-the-bone air conditioning in Sinclair Corps' spotless offices. I tugged on the collar of my blouse, trying to ignore the wave of nausea bubbling uncomfortably in my stomach.
Mason strode ahead, his dark tailored suit hugging his tall frame like a second skin. I trailed after him, silently cursing my traitorous body. He suddenly stopped and turned his head, his sharp eyes piercing as they zeroed in on me.
"What?" I mumbled, blinking up at him.
His brow furrowed. For anyone else, it would have looked like a glare, but I knew it was only his resting face—eternally intimidating.
"Have you eaten today?" His voice was low and cold, slicing through me like a blade.
"Yes," I hummed, nodding absentmindedly.
He stood there for another beat, his gaze scrutinizing me then, without another word, he turned and strode ahead, and I followed as expected.
————
By the time we reached the conference room, my nausea had worsened. I sat beside Mason willing my body to steady itself.
The meeting started with a presentation from one of the executives. I tried my best to pay attention, to jot down notes and answer when Mason threw quick questions my way.
But as the time stretched, an aroma wafted through the doors: the smell of takeout was there—garlicky, with some type of fried thing in it. My stomach clenched sharply.
My pen stilled over the page mid-note. Bile swirled in my stomach and I barely fought down. I caught Mason’s frown.
“Are you sick?” he said growled quietly. I swallowed hard as I shook my head furiously, saving face. "I'm great," I croaked. Of course, that would have fooled nobody.
Mason glared again, his gaze narrowing.
“Excuse me. I think I have the flu or something," I gasped, and before any more words could be said, I fled the room.
——-
The bathroom door burst open, and I ran inside, making it to the nearest stall just in time before doubling over. My stomach heaved violently, and I emptied what little was in it into the toilet. I clung to the cold porcelain, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
"Whoa," a voice called softly, startling me.
I turned to find a young woman peering through the door at me. Her shoulder-length black hair framed an image of worry on her features.
"You okay in there?" asked the woman.
I sat back onto my heels and wiped my mouth with a shaking hand. "I think it's the flu or something," I sais faintly.
The woman narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "The flu, huh?" She said nothing more but started to rummage through her purse, mumbling to herself, "Wait a second."
I watched, curious, as the woman pulled out a thin box and held it up.
A pregnancy test.
I blinked at it, my stomach flipping for a completely different reason now. "No," I said, hurrying to my feet and shaking my head. "I couldn't possibly…”
“Humor me," the woman said with a small smile, pushing the box toward me.
I hesitated, my hands trembling as I took it. "But I-I haven't-" I stopped, my mind racing. The last person I’d been with was… but no. No. It couldn't be.
I shot the woman a wary glance.
“What’s your name?” I asked quietly, trying to distract myself from the storm brewing inside me.
“Emma,” the woman said, smiling warmly.
I nodded faintly. “I’m Kiana.”
Emma’s smile widened. “I know. Everyone knows Mr. Sinclair’s secretary.”
I gave a wobbly smile. "Right."
I stepped into the stall, closed the door, and followed the instructions on the box, my hands shaking the entire time. When it was done, I set the test down on a folded tissue and stepped back out, my stomach twisting into knots.
Emma's voice came through the fog in my mind. "Timer's set. Three minutes.”
I leaned against the wall, my head falling back as I stared at the ceiling. “This can’t be happening,” I whispered.
“Hey,” Emma said gently. “Whatever it says, you’ll deal with it. You’ve got this.”
I didn’t reply. My mind was racing. If I was pregnant… my life would be over. And the father—no, I couldn’t even think about that.
After an eternity, the timer pinged.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I opened the stall door. I was already reaching for the test.
I picked it up with trembling hands, holding my breath.
Then I fumbled and dropped it before I could see the results.
Emma bent down, scooping it up before I could react, and stared at the small window, eyes widening.
“Oh," Emma breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Kiana…"
I looked at her, my throat tight.
Emma turned the test around, showing me the result.
Two pink lines.
The world seemed to tilt under my feet. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, my face buried in my hands. I was doomed. My life was over. How could this be? Pregnant? One reckless, unplanned night at the last office retreat, one during which I had let my guard down, drank too much, and then…and then…
“Oh, God," I whispered, dropping my head into my hands. I couldn't even think the words.
I’d slept with my boss. Yep, Mason Sinclair. I remembered stumbling into a dark room, colliding with a man who smelled of expensive cologne and danger. One thing led to another, and I’d woken up to the horrifying but tantalizing sight of Mason in the bed beside me.
The memory hit me like a brick wall: his wide eyes, the curse that had fallen from his lips as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "f**k," he'd muttered, the word sharp enough to carve into my chest. Neither of us had said much after that, just this stilted exchange of awkward nods, a silent agreement to pretend it never happened.
Now this. Had we even used any protection? I couldn't remember. Panic flooded me, cold and unforgiving. I’d been so caught up in avoiding Mason and obsessing over my mistake that I’d forgotten to take the morning-after pill.
Emma, whom I’d completely forgotten was there still, leaned over and gently brushed my hair back. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Do you…do you know who the father is?"
There was nothing funny about this yet a watery sob-laugh burst from my lips. "Yes," I chuckled, my voice breaking. "Oh yes, I do.”
- Writer
