My thighs rubbed together, and I quickly pulled my shorts up to hide them. “I thought…”
Rowen sighed, looking like he wanted to indulge but was holding himself back. “I would, but I really do need to finish this meeting. I already postponed him twice to spend time with you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. “And I don’t want to rush worshipping your body, Av. I want to take my time to break you down until you can’t take anymore.”
Oh. Well, in that case…
“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” I said with a flirty smile.
He was already back to his meeting by the time I left his office.
My stomach growled when I reached the bottom of the stairs, and I instantly headed for the kitchen. Rowen was usually cooking dinner at this time. My body—more importantly, my belly—had the schedule down perfectly, but the meeting was lasting longer than he’d expected.
You can cook for yourself, you know…
I never had to, though. Rowen always insisted on cooking my meals. Even on the day he was gone, he’d left prepped meals in the fridge that just needed to be heated up.
Why waste perfectly good food? Rowen was a five-star chef as far as I was concerned, whereas my food was much less desirable.
I was spoiled, but I wasn’t going to complain about being taken care of.
It was my turn to return the favor. He worked so hard and still found time to cook and pamper me. I wanted him to come down and find me in the kitchen, making him something special. Then, he’dhaveto finish what we started in his office.
I looked through the fridge, peering at every shelf and in every drawer, cataloging the ingredients we had. Then, I opened the cabinets, searching for something that could pair with the chicken I had found.
The spice cabinet was next, and I moved around the various jars and bottles to get a good look at what was there.
That was when I noticed the box on the top shelf, hidden just well enough behind some jars that I wouldn’t have noticed it had I not been thoroughly searching.
I dragged a chair over and used it to reach the top shelf, pulling the box down to the counter. When I lifted the lid, I saw a leather journal, a glass bottle with a label that read ‘Fertility Supplements’, and stacks of pill packs.
My birth control.
But why did he have fertility supplements?
I grabbed the journal and opened it up, my eyes widening, stomach dropping, as I read the entries.
‘June 1. Hid powder inside her fruit parfait. Had sex before bed. Came inside her.’
‘June 2. Hid powder inside her chicken tacos. Had sex in the office. Came inside her.’
‘June 3. Hid powder inside her smoothie. Had sex on the porch and in the shower. Came inside her both times.’
It was a log, complete with dates and meals and sex and…
He was hiding the fertility powder in my food? Why was he logging every time he came inside me? Why did he have so many birth control packs?
“Oh my God…”
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Tears clouded my vision.
Was he…
I sobbed into my hand.
Was hetryingto get me pregnant?
“No, no, no…”
I tried to assure myself he wouldn’t do that, that Rowen wasn’t capable of deception like that, but I couldn’t be sure. My stepbrother was more than intent on making sure we stayed together, lived our perfect life without interruption.
