His Unwanted Ex: The Pregnant Baker's Comeback

CLAIRE POV:

The nausea grew stronger. I couldn't fight it. I turned and bolted for the nearest bathroom.

I knelt before the toilet, but nothing came up. Just painful, wrenching dry heaves. My stomach spasmed uncontrollably.

Hale had followed me. He stood in the doorway, looking down at me. His voice was laced with impatience. "What new trick are you playing now?"

I looked up, my face pale, my lips bloodless. "I'm not playing tricks."

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his ice-blue eyes filled with suspicion and scrutiny. "You'd better not be. I don't have time for extra drama."

I swallowed hard, ignoring the ache in my chest. I pushed myself up, using the toilet for support, and moved to the sink.

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. The woman in the mirror looked strange and haggard.

In the reflection, I saw he was still standing there, making no move to leave.

I turned around, leaning against the sink to steady myself. "Why are you still here?"

"I need your guarantee," he said. "That you won't say anything to the media."

I let out a cold laugh. "Like what? That Hale Jones is a bastard who pays off his girlfriends with a check? Don't worry, I'm not interested. It's beneath me."

My words seemed to sting him. His jaw tightened.

Another wave of sickness washed over me. I bent over, my hands on my knees, gasping for air.

A terrible thought flashed through my mind. My period... it was late.

No, it couldn't be. We were always careful. I pushed the thought away, telling myself it was just the stress.

Hale's gaze sharpened as he watched me. "What's wrong with you?"

I straightened up, avoiding his eyes. "I told you, it has nothing to do with you."

I tried to push past him, to get out of the bathroom. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong.

"Let go!" I struggled.

His fingers dug into my skin. I couldn't break free. He pulled me closer, forcing me to look at him.

"You'd better not cause any trouble you'll regret, Claire," he said, his voice low and threatening.

I stared at his face, so close to mine. I pushed against his chest.

I used all my strength to wrench my arm free, stumbling back a step to put distance between us. "My only trouble is you. Now, please leave."

He stared at me for a few long seconds, as if trying to gauge the truth in my words.

Finally, he turned and left the bathroom.

I heard him on the phone in the living room, probably calling his assistant to arrange for someone to "help" me move.

I leaned against the cold wall, my legs weak, barely able to stand.

The front door closed again. This time, I knew he wasn't coming back.

I slid to the floor, hugging my knees. My empty stomach churned again.

I looked at the calendar on the counter, my fingers trembling as I counted the days. My heart began to pound faster and faster as the reality of the dates sank in.