CHAPTER 8
Kelsey
“So how’s it coming along?” asks Amber airily. “Have you been having fun?”
I nod, blushing. The last two months with my man have been amazing. Sure, I take shifts at the pool wearing nothing but a pair of pink bikini bottoms, my creamy breasts bare and swaying, available for any of the billionaires to see. But somehow, they all know that I belong to Trent, and while their eyes slide over my curves appreciatively, no one touches. No one so much as breathes in my direction because my man’s made sure I’m wearing his marks.
It’s the love bites on my neck. The imprint of his hands on my waist. And also the slight redness to my bottom and backs of my thighs, the evidence of his love. There’s nothing super crazy, but yeah, we like to have fun and often our sessions are raunchy and exciting.
Plus, I’ve never been so happy before. I waltz around every day in a daze, my mind filled with images of Trent, my body sore from his hot loving. So I turn a smile to Amber and laugh gently.
“Things have been going great,” I confess. “How are things with you and Roman?”
Because I know my friend has been going to the club just as often as I have to be with her man. Believe it or not, it’s the same guy she met way back when we went for try-outs months ago. Somehow Amber and Roman connected, and they’ve been joined at the hip ever since. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen much of my buddy lately, what with both of us being out of circulation. So I shoot her another curious glance.
“Everything okay?” I ask. “You look a little strange. Actually, have you been out in the sun?” I quirk my head, really taking in my friend’s form for the first time in months. “You’re almost glowing, Amber.”
She flushes beautifully, her hands stroking down to cradle her stomach in a tell-tale gesture. I gasp.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” is my whisper. “You’re having Roman’s baby!”
She nods smugly.
“I am, and I can’t wait. We both can’t wait,” she coos, “because this is exactly what we were hoping for. A baby, can you imagine it? It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, we just want him or her to be healthy.”
The air disappears from my lungs even as I try to breathe deeply. On the one hand, I’m ecstatic for my friend, but on the other, isn’t this against the rules? My thoughts are confused as I stammer aloud.
“B-but Amber, what’s going on? I thought we weren’t supposed to get into relationships with the billionaires. It’s not allowed, remember? That’s what they said during training, plus they made us sign those contracts.”
Amber waves her hand carelessly through the air.
“Contracts, schmontracts. Roman said not to worry about that stuff because he wants a baby, and what Roman wants is what he gets,” she says with a satisfied gleam to her eye. “Besides, I don’t see how you can call what we’re doing not a relationship. He and I work out together, we eat meals together, Roman even cooks for me sometimes now that I’m pregnant. He makes a mean Spaghetti Bolognese,” she confided with a smile before straightening once again. “So how can this not be a relationship?”
I’m befuddled, leaning back with my thoughts swirling. Because Amber’s right. If it’s looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck. But what if you were told that you can’t have duck, come hell or high water? Then what?
So I shake my head, utterly confused. If Roman’s willing to flaunt the rules, then would Trent do the same for me? Does my man even want the same thing from me? I have to believe so, since we act like a couple in all the regular ways. We eat meals together, watch movies together, and even cuddle on the couch together like a pair of happy lovebirds. So Trent wants a relationship, right? He would want domestic bliss, just like any normal man, right?
But foreboding fills me because I’m a rule-follower, and the strictures of the Billionaires Club were always crystal clear. No relationships. Nothing permanent. No promises. So I swallow again uneasily.
“Have you guys made plans?” is my tentative question. “Is the baby going to live at the club compound? Will you get m-married?” I stumble over the m-word. Because can it be true? Is tying the knot in the works for my friend?
But Amber’s not bothered at all, merely waving another hand my way.
“Oh you,” she pooh-poohs. “Always filled with plans and wanting to know what’s next. We’ve talked about it a little,” she acknowledges, frowning a bit, “but haven’t come to any firm decisions. Most likely the baby will be born at the hospital because I want to have every resource at my fingertips, and you know they’ll pay for us to get VIP treatment.”