Chapter 2

Nathan and I had broken up three years earlier.

There hadn't been a fight. No argument. One day, after finishing a bowl of mango sorbet, I'd simply announced it was over.

“Our Social Security numbers don't match. Clearly, we're not compatible. Let's call it.”

He'd stood there looking as though his entire world had just collapsed.

First he'd demanded a real reason. Then he'd begged me to stay. Finally, he'd made a threat.

“Just wait, Claire. I'll make you regret this.”

Well, I regretted it.

I never should've joined this company.

The first two years had been fine. Just when I thought my career was finally taking off, several of the owners had absconded with company funds—and women they definitely weren't married to.

The company was broke and on the verge of shutting down.

I'd fired off hundreds of job applications during that stretch.

Before I could find a new job, we got a new boss.

Some hotshot who'd made his money on Wall Street put in $30 million and hauled the company back from the brink.

Unfortunately, the day I met our savior was also the day I wanted to run for my life.

Up on the stage, he looked immaculate in his suit, utterly in command as he laid out his vision for the company's future.

Down in the audience, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

The man I'd dumped was now my boss. And I hadn't forgotten Nathan's vindictive streak. Cross him, and he'd make sure you paid for it.

I was getting out. I'd write my resignation as soon as I got back to my desk.

My backside had barely left the chair when Martin, ever eager to make a spectacle of himself, shouted across the room.

“Claire! Where do you think you're going? Mr. Reed is speaking. Is this really the time to walk out?”

Great opportunity for him to impress the new boss. Look at Martin: so stern, so responsible.

And there went my last scrap of dignity. I turned my head and met Nathan's eyes.

His gold-rimmed glasses made it hard to read his expression. The faint suggestion of a smile didn't exactly reassure me.

Now, back in his office, he was reminding me of another thing I'd said.

“What was it you told me when you left? That you'd never need me again? And now you expect me to play substitute dad? Let me make this clear… Too late.”

After that spectacular failure, I slunk back to my desk.

I'd barely sat down when Anna Lawson swayed past and gave a little laugh.

“You're not mad at me, are you, Claire? I know you did put a lot of work into that project.”

“Then how about giving me half your paycheck?”

She played with a strand of hair, looked me up and down, and sighed as if she were the reasonable one.

“Martin assigned it to me. He put me in charge, so obviously I'm the one getting the promotion and raise. But if you're really upset, I could buy you dinner?”

I opened my mouth, but Janet, who sat beside me, nudged my arm and shook her head.

Everyone in our department knew what Anna was like. On her very first day, she'd “accidentally” spilled her tea on Martin.

With her big innocent eyes and her sweet little voice, she'd soon become his favorite.

After that, all the best projects went to her.

This one had been important and potentially very profitable. Martin had named her project lead, then approved two months of leave for her. Once I'd finished all the work, she'd come strolling back to claim the credit.

“You're sure you're not angry with me?” Anna asked, fluttering her lashes.

Then she hurried into Martin's office. A moment later, I could hear crying through the door.

Martin came storming out soon afterward and dumped a stack of files in front of me.

“Have these organized and back on my desk before you leave. Maybe that'll keep you too busy to bully people.”

Anna leaned against his doorframe, batted her eyes at me, and laughed.

I couldn't have finished that pile by the end of the day if I'd skipped every meal, drink, and bathroom break.

Luckily, Janet offered to help.

We worked straight through the morning and into lunch without eating.

With only half an hour of our lunch break left, I finally stood up to get some food. That was when I noticed the unread messages filling my screen.

Every single one was from Nathan.

“Are you actually pregnant? Who's the father?”

“Don't read anything into that. I'm not worried about you. But if I'm supposed to raise someone else's baby, shouldn't I at least know who he is?”

“What if he turns up someday and tries to take the kid away from me?”

“Also, was that last appointment thorough? I know an excellent OB-GYN. Maybe you should get checked again.”

“Say something. Why are you ignoring me? Did you find some other guy to do it?”

“Claire. Answer me!”