Fake Empire(90)

“Damn right you will.” After shutting off my computer, I walk over to her. “I’m taking you home.”

“I’m going back to my office. I’ve got work to do.” She starts toward the door.

I ignore her and follow.

“Crew. I mean it.”

“So do I.”

“I am not going home!”

“Yes, you are. There’s stubborn, and then there’s reckless. You’re pregnant, Red. You can’t keep acting like you’re not. You need food and rest.”

Her eyes flash. “There’s annoying, and then there’s overbearing asshole. Want to know which one you are?”

She strides out of my office without telling me the answer, but I’m betting I could guess right.

I follow her down the hallway. More like chase, really. Scarlett’s a lot faster on heels than I’m expecting.

She reaches the elevator and jabs at the button, then looks over at me with a sigh. “It’s just a couple of meetings. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t find sitting in meetings all that strenuous.”

“It’s also not resting.”

She looks around and lowers her voice. “The doctor said I was fine to keep working.”

“I’m betting you didn’t mention fourteen-hour days and forgetting to eat were part of what you consider working during your last check-up.” I went to Scarlett’s first appointment with her—when the doctor officially confirmed she’s pregnant—but I was in London last week and missed her second one.

“I didn’t see any reason to.”

I rake a hand through my hair in frustration. “How about because your husband and father of your child told you to?”

“Would you go home in the middle of the day?” she asks me.

“That’s a ridiculous hypothetical.”

“Because we both know you wouldn’t?”

“No, because you are the one who is pregnant!”

“Once we’re two separate entities, feel free to co-parent to your heart’s content.”

I step closer, tilting her head up so she has to meet my gaze. “I can’t change the way biology works, baby.”

She sighs. “I’ll eat lunch, I promise. And if I start to not feel well, I’ll try to leave the magazine early, okay? I’ve got to approve the proofs for the next issue.”

“Scarlett…”

“I know you’re worried. I feel completely fine now, though. There’s a lot I need to get done while I still can.”

“You need to hire more people,” I tell her.

Scarlett seems to handle the amount of responsibility that would usually be divided among four people. She’s a perfectionist and a control freak.

“I know.”

Something suddenly occurs to me. “What are you doing here?” I was so distracted by making sure she’s okay I didn’t think to ask before. There’s no board meeting today, and that’s the only time she’s showed up at Kensington Consolidated, aside from handing me the edited prenup.

She gnaws on her lower lip. “I was going to see if you were free for lunch. I should have called—”

The elevator dings as the door opens. “Okay. Let’s go to lunch.” I nod for her to walk inside and then follow her.

“You were in the middle of a meeting. Go—”

I hit the button for the lobby. “What are you in the mood for?”

Scarlett gives me an exasperated look. “Crew.”

“Scarlett.” I say her voice in the exact same tone.

She sighs, and I know that I’ve won this round.





CHAPTER NINETEEN





SCARLETT





Crew watches me devour the cheeseburger with a wide smile on his face. “Hungry?”

I dip a fry in ketchup. “Your kid is a raging carnivore. All I want is fried food, preferably with meat.” I take another big bite. Swallow and chew.

“You took your vitamins this morning, right?”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Sounds like you’ll be a helicopter parent.”

“Teddy’s doggy daycare tells me how often you call to check on him, Red.”

“Whatever, Sport,” is the best retort I can come up with.

I drop a hand to my stomach, which has become an unconscious action as of late. I have to force myself to keep from doing it at work, since Crew is the only person who knows I’m pregnant. But I’m starting to show, so we’ll have to announce it soon.

“A baby feels like a lot of responsibility,” I tell him. “Before Teddy, I’d never even kept a cactus alive.”

He chuckles, and it’s become the laugh I compare all other laughs to. Just the right mixture of husk and rumble. “Is that why you got him? Some sort of parenting dry run?”

“No. I thought this was a ways off.” I play with a fry. “I just…I wanted something that felt like ours.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of marriage? The whole what’s mine is yours shtick?”

“The money? Cars? Planes? Property?” I shake my head. “I meant something I didn’t already have.”