“What does that mean?”
His eyes dart down to my boobs and gleam with unbridled lust. I make a poor effort to cover my boobs up from his prying gaze more than they already are. Magnum chuckles with smug entitlement. This man has lost his goddamn mind, I swear.
“Nice tits. Nice ass. Soft ass–”
“Okay, I get it.”
Magnum chuckles again and then holds my list up. “I didn’t know you were an entrepreneur.”
“I’m not. According to you, I’m unemployed.”
“Do you have a profession I somehow missed?”
“I ran a daycare.”
“Right,” he says. “Starting a weed farm sounds a lot more fun than hunting down killers, racists and cheaters.”
He’s right about that, but I don’t want to give Magnum more validation than absolutely necessary. He can’t seriously expect me to sign this insane pregnancy contract. By the time I get to the end of the document, my stomach falls straight into my ass.
“You can’t be serious,” I blurt out, glancing at Magnum to see a big grin on his face.
“The art of the deal,” he says.
“I’m going to ignore that reference.”
“You’re going to sign that document,” Magnum says with so much self-assuredness that I want to throw the document at him and smack him in the face instead. “I know you’re going to sign it, and you know you’re going to sign it.”
“I can see why you’re single.”
He laughs. “I won’t be single for long.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
I feel even more reluctance to sign. Did I miss some type of legal language where I become this man’s girlfriend – or worse – in addition to the baby situation?
“It means that you’re going to fall in love with me,” he says. “Then I won’t have to look for a wife or a girlfriend anymore. It’s really going to be the simplest solution for all of us.”
“I don’t remember seeing that in the contract.”
“It’s not in the contract,” Magnum says. “Just a crazy idea I had.”
“We can agree it’s a crazy idea,” I respond to Magnum, holding his gaze so he knows that I’m serious.
I’m agreeing to allow him control over almost every aspect of my life for the next 39 to 45 weeks, depending on our “situation” with the pregnancy. I’m agreeing to have his baby and share joint custody with him for the next eighteen years in exchange for an upfront payment of $4,200,000 with a monthly stipend of $25,500 for expenses and child care.
All I have to do is fuck a man I already fucked twice. GIRL!
Magnum knows we’re both going to sign, but I don’t want to look like I’m giving in too easily. This man doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. I’ve lived life on the edge for my whole life. I ran away from home. I’ve been involved with criminals far worse than the outlaw bikers who spend most of their time working and boo’ed up. I tried to kill two of my ex-boyfriends. I spent a year in jail and became the “boss” because all the white girls were afraid of me.
Pregnancy and one six-foot-five white man with giant biceps and a pierced cock? How bad can it be?
“You’re going to sign.”
He takes the pen out of his pocket and hands it to me confidently.
“What do you think of my business ideas?”
“I think you’re trouble,” Magnum says. “But my accountant has an MBA, so I’ll run these ideas past him and see what he thinks.”
