Lorena continues. “I thought he was in the mob! Don’t scoop my eye out. I only did it because he promised this would help us get to Pittsburgh together.”
Michael and I exchange glances. Pittsburgh? We’ve had personal problems lately extending as far south as Pittsburgh. Michael nods and I set down the scalpel. We both pull up chairs across from Lorena.
“Are you ready to talk?” Michael asks. “You co-operate with us, maybe you’ll get that money you need to go to Pittsburgh.”
“You’re not going to rape and kill me?”
Michael glares at her. “I haven’t decided yet. Now answer our questions.”
Chapter Fifteen
Aricia
Ifeel foolish for holding onto the traditional idea that Peter will call me. Life is not an episode ofSex And The City,and regressive gender roles don’t make sense when youowna multimillion dollar law-firm. But I still foolishly hope that Peter will call since he’s the one who made such a big deal out of that pregnancy test. I could have enjoyed my life without the weight of this for another several weeks before noticing. Knowing about this baby means that I have to do something. For the first time in my life, I don’t have a clue what to do.
This could be my last chance. Myonlyreal chance to go through the experience of pregnancy, and having a baby. Many women say it transforms everything about the way you think and feel. But I’ve just never been the type to think of myself as a lesser woman because of my choice to focus on my career. Plenty of folks bet on a husband and kids, and end up divorced with a bunch of ungrateful children.
I always assumed that if God wanted me to have a child, he would put me in that situation, but now that I’m there, my feelings are more paralyzing than I ever expected and Peter’s absence bothers me more than I thought it would.
It’s so much worse when he doesn’t call.
By the next morning, I tell myself that I’m a modern woman who doesn’t need to wait for a man to text first. I message Peter something quick, saying that we should probably talk, but not putting any pressure on him about either the sex or the pregnancy test. I can tell him in person.
He doesn’t respond right away, so I try to stop thinking about the unanswered message and get ready to go into the office. Rana tried to tell me not to come, but I can’t just sit at home stewing over anxious thoughts about a guy like I’m a college student. I have to do something to distract myself from thinking about the pregnancy information along with the throbbing pain in my ass from the wild sex I had with Peter.
I never expected the wildest sex in my life to be in my early forties, but my body still shudders involuntarily when I think about how good he felt, even if I had no business being up in that mobster’s hotel room. I should bewayabove the whole bad boy thing, honestly. But Peter isn’t some hood rat selling dime bags. He’s…powerful.
At least I think he is. I know better than most how much some men are willing to commit to an illusion.
When I get to the office, Rana greets me with my coffee order and a croissant that I didn’t ask for. She reviews all my meetings for the day and points out that I have the afternoon clear if I want to leave early. I assure her that I have no reason to leave early and send her to handle an issue in the billing department on the second floor.
Emails and spreadsheets soothe me. People might call me crazy, but I like getting my house in order and I love being the boss, even if there are tough moments sometimes. Right before my need for a mid-morning coffee reaches a fever pitch,my office door buzzes with an alert that someone is riding the elevator up to my floor. I smile, eagerly expecting Rana to show up with my mid-morning coffee.
That woman deserves a raise, lowkey.
When the elevator door pings open, I hear Rana’s heels clicking anxiously down the hallway.
“Don’t you dare go in there without knocking!” Rana grunts. I hear sounds of what might be a struggle, but before I rise from my desk, Rana yanks my office door open and sticks her head inside.
“Aricia, I need you to stay calm, okay?”
“Get out of the way, Rana…”
I swear I recognize the voice, but I don’t immediately place it because of all the other shit going on until the voice’s owner rips the door away from Rana and practically shoves her out of the way to enter my office. It’s my dead husband’s mistress, Inessa Dabrowski, and judging by the scheming smirk on her face, this is not a social call.
Rana’s eyes meet mine as we mutually encourage each other not to crash out with silent communication. This is a law office after all, and I had to spend a lot of money to keep the press from investigating my ex-husband’s death more deeply than they did. They kept it at the public statement and didn’t unnecessarily drag anybody through the mud.
One look at Inessa and I know she means trouble.
“Hello, Aricia.”
She doesn’t call me Miss Plant or even by my maiden name if she wanted to get all possessive over my husband. It’s clear Inessa doesn’t respect me, which shouldn’t surprise me, because I can’t imagine her respecting herself. It doesn’t matter how smug she looks right now, I watched her slip and slide in somebaby oil until she knocked herself unconscious, all with a purple dildo strapped to her crotch.
I cannot let this vile antisocial creature have a single victory over me. This is not how bulldogs in the courtroom go out.
“Hello, Miss Dabrowski.” When they go low, you go high. I meet her devilish smirk with a warm, impenetrable smile. Betraying any emotion, especially a negative emotion, would only give Inessa an opportunity to read my intentions and develop a strategy for victory. Whatever she wants, I expect it’s something like that. She’s the type of woman deeply competitive with other women to a fault.
Rana clears her throat. “Inessa, drop off your documents and I’ll take you back to your car.”
