The Billionaire's Temporary Bride (Scandal, Inc #3)(82)

It would be even warmer back in DC. The cherry blossoms would bloom. Jack would have the party's nomination. Everything would be right. Charlotte just had to find a way to make it through the few weeks until the primary.

Charlotte's body was changing too, blossoming, filling itself with new life. She could feel the changes taking place. She was starting to notice them in the mirror too. With each passing day, she was finding it harder to hide the changes from Jack, but the campaign had thankfully kicked into high gear for its final stretch, meaning she saw Jack less and less each day. The final weeks were a string of fifteen hour days, nonstop events, speeches and rallies. Aside from the few hours of sleep they caught together, Charlotte was almost never alone with Jack, but it seemed he knew something had changed.


Between the way Charlotte would run off to hide her morning sickness, and the way she found more and more excuses to avoid events, Jack seemed suspicious. He was polite about it, but each time Charlotte denied anything was different, he asked more and more questions, and it became that much harder for her to tell the truth. After a seemingly interminable week, she decided she'd wait until after the primary to tell him. That way, she could absolve herself of the guilt of not telling him, and she could keep herself from derailing his campaign with her news at the same time.

Despite her growing anxiety about breaking the news to Jack, Charlotte was becoming more and more excited about the possibility of becoming a mother. Sure, the timing wasn't ideal, but she didn't know when it would be. There was always some crisis or problem looming on the horizon. Whether it was the campaign or something else, she doubted there would ever be a perfect time to have a family.

Jack's fifteen point post-debate lead had dwindled to single digits. Jack was still the frontrunner, but in a tight three-way race, his victory was far from certain. The Beacon Hill brownstone became a second campaign headquarters, with staffers meeting around the kitchen table at all hours of day and night. Charlotte had lost count of the number of times she had started to fumble through the start of telling him about the pregnancy when a campaign advisor stepped into the room to pull Jack away.

On the Sunday before the primary election, early in the morning, Charlotte decided she would tell Jack. The campaign was at its highest flurry of activity so far, and Jack was getting ready for a morning of stopping by churches and coffee hours and social events to drum up last minute support.

"Honey," Charlotte said, watching him button the cuffs of his shirt closed, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Jack smiled at her in the full-length mirror, but turned with a look of concern on his face when she didn't smile back. "What's up?" he asked.

It was like the words froze in her throat. As she tried to find the courage to go on, there was a knock on the door, and Charlotte jumped at the opportunity to save herself from having this conversation yet. "Who could that be, so early?"

"The campaign staff isn't going to be here for another half hour or so," Jack said. He moved toward the bedroom door.

"I'll go see," Charlotte said. "You stay here and finish getting ready."

She leaned back against the wall after leaving the bedroom to wait for her heart to stop racing before she headed down to the foyer.

To her surprise, Big Greg Lapierre loomed in the doorway. Standing there, he seemed much larger than he had the other times Charlotte had seen him. He wore a tan overcoat and held a manila envelope in his huge hand.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I've come to make an offer to your husband," he said. "Is he home?"

"Jack," Charlotte called, "there's someone here to see you." She motioned Big Greg inside. "I'll have him come meet you in the living room."

Despite the courteous nod he gave her, Charlotte disliked something inherent about Big Greg that she couldn't put her finger on. He lumbered through the hallway toward the living room, stopping to look at the family photos on the wall.

"Beautiful people," he muttered. "Beautiful family, all of you."

Charlotte made her way back to the bedroom to tell Jack, but he was already standing outside the room, giving her a puzzled look.

"Who's here?" he asked, in a tone that made it clear he already knew.

"It's Greg Lapierre," Charlotte said. She put her hand against Jack's chest and could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. "Jack, wait. Before you go running in to—"

"What does he think he's doing, showing up here? The nerve of him." Jack moved past Charlotte's touch, striding toward the living room with a determined look.

By the time Charlotte caught up to him, the conversation had already started. She stood in the doorway between Big Greg while his hand idly turned the manila envelope on the coffee table between him and Jack.

"Resign from the campaign," Greg was saying. "Say you're pulling out for family reasons. That's what they all say isn't it? 'I've decided to take this opportunity to focus on my family.' Only you'll be taking the focus off of your family. Especially that pretty little mama and bastard son of yours down in North Carolina."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Jack said. His nostrils flared with every word.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about." Greg leaned back in the armchair until it creaked under his weight. "If I can give you some advice, you really shouldn't keep your mistress and your bastard baby in a house that's known to be owned by your family. You wanted to be a big boy, Jack. Well, this is how we play ball in the big leagues."