“So I’m only a bank for you. Nothing else?” I ask, keeping my voice hard and not letting the hurt show.
“I don’t want to do this, but you’ve left me no choice. I’m your mother, Jordan. You owe me.”
“I owe you shit,” I hiss.
“If you don’t have that much money right now, borrow it from your billionaire boyfriend. I’m sure if you spread your legs, he’d be happy to?—”
“Fuck you, Delphine,” I say, stuffing the photos and paper back into the envelope. I don’t want to leave the evidence here with them, though in the back of my mind I know they have copies. These motherfuckers are too diabolical to not cover all their bases.
Standing, I tuck the envelope into my tote bag. “You won’t see another penny from me. You’re nothing but a leech, and I see why no one else in the family wants anything to do with you.”
A flicker of hurt flashes in her eyes, and I’m glad I wounded her. Willie speaks up again, nodding to the contents of my bag. “Be very careful, Jordan. You don’t want to be stupid here. Just follow our directions and you’ll never hear from us again.”
“Fuck you too, Willie,” I snap, turning away before whirling back. “And take some of Delphine’s surgery money and get your tooth fixed.”
Then I turn and stride out of the restaurant, pretty sure my blonde hair has turned red with as much rage as I’m feeling.
When I get in my truck, I take a moment to center myself, hands clutching the steering wheel. This isn’t something I can handle on my own. I need help.
I need Phoenix.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Tell me who hurt you
Phoenix
“Ms. McNamara is here to see you,” Charlotte says, peeking her head into my office.
I can’t help the goofy smile that takes over my face. “Send her in, and hold my calls, please.”
Jordie’s never stopped by unannounced, but I’m happy she did. Standing, I remove my suit jacket and hang it on the back of my chair.
My goddess storms into the room, and my eyes widen. She looks angry and sad and freaked out all at the same time.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask, rushing to her, but she pushes past me, dropping her bag on the floor as she sprints to my office restroom. I follow, finding her on her knees, vomiting into the toilet.
Kneeling beside her, I hold her ponytail, which is sticking out the back of her cap. “It’s okay,” I croon, rubbing her back. “Get it all up.”
Dread seeps into my skin and all the way to my bones. I know what it means when a woman vomits unexpectedly. I’ve gotten my girl pregnant, and now she’s going to leave me.
It’s a jump of logic, but that’s automatically where my mind goes, and I have to shove my panic way down deep so I can take care of her. A few minutes later, Jordie’s brushed her teeth with my spare toothbrush, and that’s when the panic re-emerges.
I lean against the restroom wall and slide down until my butt hits the ground. Tears fill my eyes, and I lower my face, covering the back of my head with my hands. And I sob. My body shakes with the storm of my emotion. I didn’t feel anything like this with Beatrice, only anger topped with a little bit of hurt, but there wasn’t this deep despair I feel now.
A gentle hand rubs my back, just as I did for her a few minutes ago, and I finally look up to find her kneeling beside me. She speaks softly. “It’s okay. I feel better now. I was just upset, but I promise I’m all right.”
I can’t hold it in any longer. “Please don’t leave me,” I beg as tears stream down my face. “Please, Jordie. I’ll do anything. I’ll raise the baby. I’ll quit my job. Just please don’t—” The rest of the desperate words won’t come because it feels like someone’s taken a hammer to my voice box.
My beautiful girl’s face is a mask of confusion and concern. “What baby are you talking about?”
I look down at her stomach, like I can see something growing inside her. “You’re pregnant.”
Jordie’s brow creases, her voice rising. “I am?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not that I know of, though it’s not for a lack of trying.”
