Page 22 of Billionaire Retreat

She stared at me and looked me over with disapproval and hostility practically radiating from her pores. I felt that my very presence offended her deeply. She clearly hated me, but she had no reason to. She didn’t even know me. I don’t know why, but I felt like crying. She was looking at me as if I were some sort of stray dog dragged in from the outside. I felt my resolve disappearing and I struggled to keep my emotions from spiraling out of control.

With a shaky voice, I said again, “I would like to speak to Griffin, please.”

“Again, young lady, I told you that won’t be possible. Griffin’s away on business.”

“The receptionist just told me that he’s taking a call,” I said, trying but failing to stop my voice from betraying my topsy-turvy emotions. I was feeling angry and upset, and barely able to speak.

“The receptionist lied,” she stated flatly.

The receptionist opened his mouth to protest and she shot him a steely look that made him openly flinch. It was clear to me the receptionist wasn’t the one who was lying.

I decided then to take a stand.

I looked around and sat on the couch nearest. It was one of those stupid, uncomfortable modern couches that were more pieces of abstract art than furniture. I was probably sitting on a sculpture that wasn’t furniture, but I wasn’t going to move now. It was too late. I was taking a stand, albeit by sitting down. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at the odd piece of art in front of me. Oh jeez, I thought to myself, maybe that was actually the sofa.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to sit here until one of you gets Griffin,” I said, trying to sound like I actually meant it. “And I’m not leaving until I see him.”

“Very well,” the woman said. And without missing a beat, she followed with, “Zach, call security.”

“Mrs. Wallace…” Zach said giving me a mournful look. “She’s harmless. I mean just look at her. She’s sitting on the sculpture for God’s sake. Maybe she just needs help.” The way he said the word “help” made me realize that he thought I had some sort of mental illness. Great. Just great. But whatever. If that worked in my favor, Zach the receptionist could believe anything he wanted.

“Useless,” she growled at him. She shoved him away from the desk and proceeded to call security.

Sweat began to pool down my back and my underarms. My heart was racing. What the hell do I do now? I can’t get arrested, I thought in panic. I’m pregnant!

Desperate, I tried one more time to talk reason to her. I tried to keep my voice calm even though I felt like crying and shouting in anger at the same time. “Listen, I just need to talk to Griffin. Just five minutes, please. Like Zach said, I’m harmless.”

“Security is on its way,” she said dismissively.

And she was right. Seconds later two guards showed up at the door.

“Miss, come with us.”

I stood up slowly and extended my wrists. I closed my eyes, waiting for them to put the cuffs on me. When nothing happened, I slowly opened my eyes and saw that the security guards were looking at me with a bemused expression.

One shook his head in confusion, hit my hand out the way, and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go…”

“Am I being arrested?” I asked, frightened as they escorted me out of the office. I glanced back at Zach and the old woman right as the door closed. The old woman had a small smile on her face and Zach looked like he was ready to cry.

Oh, God. I hope I didn’t get him fired, I thought mournfully.

The security guards didn’t say a word to me during the elevator ride down. I stood between them awkwardly wondering if a patrol car would be waiting for me downstairs. If I went to jail, I hoped they would allow me to have frequent bathroom breaks because I could barely hold it nowadays.

I started crying at the thought of being pregnant and alone and in jail. Pretty soon, I was sobbing in the elevator and the security guards avoided making eye contact with me.

“Come on,” the other one said as they pulled me out of the elevator. My legs were wobbly and I felt like I was going to faint. “No one’s going to arrest you. Just calm down.”

“Are you—are—are you sure?” I managed to squeak out between deep breaths and sobs.

“Jesus, lady. Get it together,” said the other guard. “You can’t stalk people without consequences, you know.”

“I’m not a stalker!” I said more loudly than I intended.

And then I felt a hand at my elbow. I looked behind me and it was Cliff.

“I’ll take it from here, fellas.”