"Sir, someone is here to see you," Kate, my assistant, said as she set the coffee I'd requested on my desk.
I frowned, my brow furrowing as I glanced at her, then at the schedule on my screen. I'd reviewed it meticulously this week—I wasn't expecting anyone today. "I didn't know I made an appointment with anyone," I said.
"It's not an appointment," she replied, shifting her weight slightly, her hands clasped in front of her.
That deepened my frown. Kate was a stern gatekeeper, she never let unannounced visitors past the lobby, let alone brought them to my attention. "Then they should make one," I snapped, leaning back in my chair.
Before I could dismiss her, she added hesitantly, "She says it's very urgent."
"She?" My stomach twisted with a bad feeling. I didn't know who it was, but instinct told me this wouldn't end well.
"I'm busy now. I don't want to see anyone," I said firmly, turning my attention back to my work.
"Sir, she's being very persistent," Kate pressed, her voice lowering. "She's been here for a while and refuses to leave without seeing you." She paused, then added with a nervous glance, "She also said she'd expose your secret with her if you refuse."
My mind raced to Meredith, a model I'd hooked up with until I ended things two weeks ago. Since then, she'd turned into a stalker—flooding my phone with hundreds of messages daily, showing up at my penthouse uninvited. If it was her, I'd file a restraining order without hesitation. "If it's Meredith, call security to escort her out," I said, my voice cold.
Kate shook her head. "She says her name is Camille. She claims she's Lucas Vaughan's fiancée."
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. What the hell was she doing in New York? My mind flashed to that night, the secret I'd buried deep. "Let her in," I ordered, my voice tight, my hands clenching into fists on the desk.
Kate nodded and hurried out. I sat there, my pulse thudding in my ears, as the door opened again. A blonde head entered, lowered as if in shame, and she turned to close the door quietly behind her. For a moment, she stood with her back to me, her shoulders tense.
Then she turned, lifting her head to meet my gaze with big, blue eyes brimming with nervousness. She twisted her fingers together, a clear sign of her anxiety, and bit her lower lip—a gesture that stirred an unwelcome heat in me, which only fueled my glare. Her beauty was striking, even now, but it hardened my resolve.
"Erm… Good da—" she began, but I cut her off sharply.
"What do you want?"
"I came to speak to you," she said, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
"Does Lucas know you're here?" I demanded.
"No, he doesn't," she admitted.
"You have to leave. Now," I said, pointing to the door.
"I need to speak to you," she insisted, stepping closer, her hands trembling.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" I snapped, rising from my chair, my voice rising with anger. "I kept your secret from Lucas—why would you risk your relationship by coming here?" I paused, my eyes narrowing. I vaguely remember Lucas sending me an invitation to their wedding which was supposed to be last week. "Aren't you two supposed to be already married?"
"We… Our… Lucas called off our engagement," she stammered, her gaze dropping to the floor.
I froze, the air thickening around me. If they hadn't gotten married last week, that meant that something was wrong with their relationship. Something told me it had something to do with me and the one night stand I had with Camille. "That's not my business," I said coldly, crossing my arms. "So get to the point—what do you want?"
She inhaled. "I… What I wanted to say is that…" she faltered, her words stumbling.
"You're wasting my time," I growled, slamming a hand on the desk, my frustration boiling over. "Say whatever you came for and get out of my office. Never come back."
"I'm pregnant," she blurted, her voice trembling, her eyes locking onto mine.
My mind screeched to a halt, the word echoing in my skull. I felt the blood drain from my face, my hands gripping the edge of the desk for support as the room seemed to tilt.
She must have thought I didn't hear her, because she tried again, her voice softer. "I said that I'm—"
"I heard you the first time," I cut in, my voice low and dangerous, my eyes narrowing to slits. "I want to know what you think you'll gain from telling me this news. Is this some kind of joke?"
"It's no joke; I'm pregnant," she repeated, though her hands still twisted nervously.
"How is that any of my concern?" I asked though my heart was pounding with a mix of dread and denial.
"Because you are the father," she said, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"That's not possible," I shot back, shaking my head, my voice rising as I stepped around the desk toward her.
"It is," she insisted, her gaze unwavering. "You know it is. You didn't use any protection that day."
"What game do you think you're playing?" I demanded, my fists clenching at my sides, my anger surging.
"I'm not playing any game," she said, her voice cracking, her hands dropping to her sides in defeat.
"This is what you wanted," I accused, pointing a finger at her, my voice thick with rage. "You intentionally came to my room that night to seduce me and—"
"Seduce you?" she interrupted, her eyes flashing with hurt, her voice rising in indignation. "You think I wanted to sleep with you? I was engaged to Lucas—I would have never hurt him like that."
"And yet you did," I countered.
"I was drunk," she cried, her voice breaking, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I didn't know it wasn't Lucas."
"Get out of my office, or I'll call security," I snarled, turning away, my chest heaving with fury.
"I understand this is difficult for you, but—" she began, stepping forward, her voice pleading.
"Understand?" I whirled back to face her, my voice a roar, my hands gesturing wildly. "You've gotten what you wanted. You wanted to tie me down with a pregnancy—that's why you came to me that night. You needed a backup plan in case Lucas changed his mind about marrying you, to ensure you'd still have a bank to fork out loads of cash!" I spat the words, my anger boiling over, directed at her, at myself for being so careless, at the alcohol and jet lag that clouded my judgment. "But you're wasting your time. I don't want you, and I definitely don't want that." I said pointing at her belly region.
"I don't care what you think or what you want," she said. "I don't want this any more than you do, but I've made peace with it. I'm keeping this baby. If you don't want to be part of its life, that's fine by me. But I will… I will need some money to support the child."
I let out a sarcastic laugh, my head tilting back, my eyes rolling in disbelief. "Of course."
"This isn't only my fault," she said, her voice rising, her tears flowing freely now. "This situation has cost me my fiancé and my life. The least you can do is pay for child support."
"Get out of my office," I ordered, turning toward the phone. "Or else I'll call security."
She reached into her bag with trembling hands, pulling out a card and placing it on my desk. "This is my lawyer's number. You can contact him. You're entitled to a DNA test before you start the child support. I don't want this publicized—it would kill Lucas to know we had a thing."
"There is no 'we,'" I snapped, my voice harsh, my hands slamming down on the desk. "What happened between us was under the influence of alcohol, stress, and jet lag. On a normal circumstance, I would have never looked twice at you. You're a terrible mistake I should have never made, and now you've made another one."
Her face went white, her eyes widening in shock, her lips parting as if she couldn't believe I'd said that. I felt a pang of shame for my words, especially about the baby....whatever she was carrying wasn't at fault. But pride kept my mouth shut, refusing to let me apologize.
After a long, heavy silence, she finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Goodbye, Damien." She picked up her bag and left the office, closing the door quietly behind her.