He escorted me to the top floor of a very tall building, and even before the elevator doors slid open to the penthouse, the booming bass of EDM filtered through. My brother would have been thrilled to hear his favorite music blasting, but it wasn’t my thing at all.
The elevator opened to a sprawling apartment. Or…I assumed it was sprawling. The place was packed wall-to-wall withverybeautiful people. Mac laid his palm on the middle of my back, guiding me through the masses.
“Do you know where he is?” I called over the music.
“He was on the deck when he sent me to collect you,” he replied.
Moses was still on the deck, which was really part of the roof. Blue pool lights gave the entire area a glow, but Mo glowed the brightest. That could have been due to the lit joint between his lips or the shiny, nearly naked girls crawling all over him.
I had to stop walking and press my fingers to my mouth for fear of throwing up all over thisverybeautiful penthouse.
“Are you okay?” Mac asked.
“No. Not really.”
“I understand.” He moved ahead of me, clearing the path, alerting Mo to my presence. His eyes were on me as I made my way over, and I crossed my fingers my little bump was still indiscernible under my dress. The last thing I wanted was to make some public announcement—and we were pretty damn public right now.
Mac scraped a chair across the bumpy surface of the deck and placed it across from Moses. He guided me into it, and with my mind all over the place, it was easiest to let him put me where he thought I should go.
“Thank you, Mac.”
He patted my shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“He’s not Craig anymore?” Moses asked.
I shrugged. “He said I could call him that, so it kind of took the fun out of it.”
“I’ve been calling him Craig since Vegas. He never once gave me permission, and I’m the one who signs his paychecks.”
I licked my lips, unsure of how to proceed. The man across from me was a stranger, but he was also the father of my baby and someone I’d cared about enough during our one night together to marry.
So, I went for smartass, which was my default. “I doubtyou’rethe one signing his paychecks. Although, I can picture your checkbook now. I bet your checks have Minions or something equally adorable.”
Mo gazed back at me with heavy lids and an impassive expression. “Ah, she brought jokes tonight.”
One of the many women surrounding him—touching him, invading the space that was rightly mine—made a little giggle-snort, and Mo grazed a knuckle down her cheek before turning his attention back to me.
His eyes took a lazy path from the wedges on my feet all the way to my curls spilling down my shoulders. “You look good, Mickey.”
I cringed at his use of my nickname. “You look like crap, Moses,” I said, though it wasn’t completely true.
Even in the dim light, it was hard to miss his bloodshot eyes and overgrown scruff, but his hair looked freshly cut and styled, a wave falling down on his forehead. “You have Superman hair.”
The girl cuddled up beside him in his lounge chair giggled again. “Oh, you do!” she squealed, shoving her hand through his hair like she had done so a dozen times. Mo gave her a smile so indulgent and intimate, I had to swallow the bile rising from my throat.
It was one thing to receive a text telling me he wanted nothing to do with me, but to see the evidence in person…it was too much. My heart was a lump of coal in my chest. This aching feeling could not possibly be good for the baby.
“This was a mistake.” I hurried inside, through the crowd, and down a dark hallway. I entered through the first door I passed, finding a bright, shiny-clean bathroom.
Leaning over the counter, I pressed one hand to my belly, the other holding me upright. I had truly believed we could do this the mature way. I would tell him, he’d react one way or the other, and we’d work out what we needed to work out. But that was clearly impossible. The Moses I thought he was didn’t exist, which made me question whether I even wanted him in this baby’s life.
I couldn’t keep this a secret, but there was no way in hell I was telling him tonight—not while he was high and cruel. Perhaps a letter from my lawyer would be the best way. That would give him time to decide on his own what he wanted to do.
Resolute, I took a breath and opened the bathroom door. Before I could register what was happening, Mo pushed his way inside and covered my mouth with his. His hands cradled my face gently. His mouth was rough and savage. Teeth scraped my bottom lip, biting, tugging.
I was frozen. In shock. But he felt so good, when he urged my lips to part with his tongue, I opened for him and met him with a moan. He didn’t take it easy on me, and I didn’t want him to. This was pure, raw lust mixed with anger on both our parts.
I gripped the front of his shirt, balling it in my fists. His chest was hard, hot, unyielding.