“Really? I thought you hired a new one.”
“I did. And then I fired her,” he snaps.
“Why?”
“Because she was an idiot.”
“So… hire a new one?” I reach around myself to rub my back. It’s been killing me recently. Pregnancy is no joke.
Ransome actually chuckles at my response. “Right. Like anyone is going to be able to do your job the way you did. You’ve fucking ruined it.”
“You’re welcome?” I mumble, rubbing my hips.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “Just sore muscles.”
“Is something wrong with the baby?” His eyes turn shifty as he looks over my body. “You’re not going into early labor, are you?”
“What? No. Jesus. I’m just sore. Being pregnant is a little stressful on the body, you know.”
He nods. “Right. I’ll book you a massage,” he says and I actually laugh.
“Seriously, you don’t need to?—”
I stop my sentence right in the middle. The man is offering to pay for a prenatal massage. Who am I to say no?
For one, a massage sounds heavenly. But also, it means I get to go outside the walls of my luxurious prison for a couple of hours.
“Booked,” he says. “The driver will be here in thirty minutes.”
My smile fades a little. “Driver? Why can’t I drive myself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not safe.” Ransome walks out of the room and I follow him.
“I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I do know how to drive a car. I even used to own one.”
“I’m aware. I caught you before you were able to get back into that death trap of a junk heap back in Montana.”
“There was nothing wrong with that car,” I argue.
“You mean other than the shocks, the starter, the belts, and the power steering?”
I roll my eyes. “Gianni worked on that car. I know it wasn’t fancy on the outside, but it got the job done. I was laying low.”
Ransome spins around. I nearly run into him. “Well, you’re not laying low anymore. You’re here with me, and you won’t be driving around on your own. People don’t know…” he trails off.
“That I’m pregnant?” I ask.
“That you’re here at all,” he says. “And I’m not about to let that information travel too far.”
I suck my lips before saying the words I know I shouldn’t. “Like to your wife?”
“Like to her cousin,” he says with just as much salt. “Now go get ready for your massage. The car will be out front in twenty minutes,” he says as he heads for the door. “Oh. And you’re welcome.”
Honestly, I do feel a little bad for talking to him that way. Especially since he got me a massage. The idea of it nearly has me in tears.
But I couldn’t help it. The man lied to me. He tricked me into coming back here with him. Spectacular orgasms or not, I’m not about to let him off the hook so easily. Even if he does fuck me like I’m the last woman on earth.
