He stepped into his boss’s spectacular, flat-sized office at eight-thirty-one, dread leaching from his limbs.
“Boss,” Ciar spoke with authority, swallowing his discomfort.
“Murphy. Have a seat.”
Anders finished sending an email on one of the four screens in front of him, buzzed in his assistant for coffee, and while Cinde was filling their mugs, he straightened the eight different piles of correspondence awaiting his attention.
“Close the door on your way out, Ms. Shields.”
Alone once more, Anders took a sip of his scorching hot sugared coffee before leaning back and steepling his fingers below his chin.
Ciar was too old to squirm, but clearly, the powers that be didn’t give his body that memo. “What’s happening, Boss?” Better to get whatever shitstorm necessitated this tête-à-tête out in the open.
“You fucked one of my client’s wives. A Mrs. Agapov. Eight and a half months ago.”
Ciar felt his gut plummet to his toes. Why in the hell was his boss calling him out for screwing a willing woman?
“I did,” he admitted immediately. “After she signed off on her husband’s contracts with us, she asked me to have a drink.”
“Chris Agapov contacted me the day you left for the States. He will stop using our firm unless you fix his wife’s problem.”
“What problem? Christ, Anders. The woman told me that her husband was elderly, and he gave her permission years ago to take pleasure where she would. I had no reason to doubt her.
“If I need to personally apologize for…disrespecting the man, though unintentionally, I will.”
“Oh, they do have such an agreement. Last year, Chris encouraged me to take care of his wife. I hired Marie an escort for the evening. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I assume that is a lesson you’re learning as we speak.”
Ciar winced at how unprofessional he appeared at that moment, when the whole of his career had been above reproach. “Of course. My apologies, sir. Marie is Russian, and I enjoyed speaking to her in my first language. Clearly, a mistake.
“Like I said, I’ll do whatever it takes to appease Mr. Agapov, but if he allows his wife certain liberties, why has he taken offense now?”
“None of the other men left her pregnant.”
Ciar barely made it to his small flat. As the door clicked open, he fell to his knees. He felt as though a vise was pressing against his neck, making his breathing so labored that he grew dizzy.
Before he’d stumbled from Anders’ office, his boss informed him that Marie’s husband forced her to stay in London until she had the baby.
His baby? “Fuck,” he groaned, peeling himself from the hardwood floor to make his way to his kitchen and the bottle of vodka that awaited him.
According to her husband, Marie didn’t tell him about the pregnancy until it was too late to do anything about it. Supposedly, he loved his wife, but he would not let her return to Moscow and embarrass the family.
Remembering the last of their conversation gave Ciar some hope.
“Marie told Chris that the baby is for sure yours, but you’ve admitted that you used a condom, and we know she wasn’t a woman to go without male company for long.
“You will have to wait it out until the child is born and force a DNA test. Marie has avoided all overtures from me to set up paternity testing. For your part, only a swab of the inside of your cheek is necessary.”
Anders stood and walked around his desk, placing a hand on Ciar’s shoulder. “Don’t let this derail you, son. No matter the results, your life is far from over. You are the brightest person I’ve ever had on my team, and I don’t plan on seeing you go anywhere but up.
“Now, take yourself home for now. We have important clients coming in the morning, and I expect you here and ready to work.”
Ciar had done nothing but mumble a thank you and goodbye. He watched as the vodka filled the glass, wondering how his life could have imploded to such a degree.
“Gray,” he groaned, taking his phone and bottle to the living room, falling onto the plush, leather sofa.
What was he supposed to do now? He and Gray were so new, and he’d already screwed up once for lying. She’d forgiven him. Would she forgive him again?
She said she loved him. Did she really? Did he love her?
