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“Long story,” I mumble.
Thankfully, he doesn’t push me.
Instead, he offers me the glass of sparkling water. As I accept it, our fingertips brush together and, like the overflowing fount of grace and poise that I am, I yank my hand back so fast that water sloshes down the front of my borrowed suit.
This whole “clumsy goof” act is getting really old, really fast. I’d like off this ride, please and thank you.
Blushing, I down the pill and take a long draw of water. When I finish, he takes the glass from my hand and stands up. “If you need to leave, I won’t stop you.”
Ishouldleave. It’s what any woman in her right mind would do.
But years of scraping by, stressing about bills and treatment plans and whether my slightly crooked pinky toe would make my feet pictures exotic or unsellable, has left me a woman very much in her wrong mind.
Which is why I stand tall and face Arsen. “I have some questions.”
“Ask me anything.”
Did you buy that jawline or are you God’s favorite?
I shelf that question and snatch at one of the many more relevant ones circulating in my head.
“How would it work? Some fancy doctor would put your sperm and your wife’s egg together and then they’d put the whole thing in me?”
That’s a little off-putting, but it might be for the best. I’d be nothing more than a suitcase filled with someone else’s belongings. This doesn’t need to be personal. It can be cold and clinical.
Business.
For Mom.
Arsen reclaims his throne and leans back, hands folded in front of him. “I’m a busy man,roza. I don’t have the time or the patience to spend in labs and hospitals.”
Roza. He doesn’t even know my name, and he wants me to carry his baby. There’s nothing less personal than that.
Business.
For Mom.
“But you want to have a baby?—”
“The old-fashioned way. It’s simple, straightforward. We’re both young and—” He eyes the pill bottle that I’m still clutching between my sweaty fingers. “—healthy. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of tries to get the job done.”
I shake my head, convinced that the lingering pain the pill hasn’t squashed out yet is tampering with my understanding. “I’m sorry. When you say, ‘the old-fashioned way’…?”
“There’d be no further need for intercourse once you’re pregnant, of course.”
My jaw drops. The pill container slides right out of my hand. It hits the floor and rolls under Arsen’s desk, but I make no attempt to go after it. There are bigger fish to fry at the moment.
“This time, I know you have to be kidding.”
“Let me explain?—”
“No,” I grit out, taking both Arsen and myself by surprise. “Letmeexplain. Just because I accidentally walked in here with a vibrator does not mean I’ll drop my underwear for some rich schmuck who thinks he can have whatever he wants just by throwing money at it. I may be desperate, but I’m notthatdesperate.” I swing my bag into my shoulder and glare furiously at him. “And I’m no homewrecker, either!”
“My wife and I don’t have a traditional marriage, Laila. I wouldn’t be cheating on her.” Almost to himself, he adds, “Even if I was, she wouldn’t care.”
“Yeah? Well, Idocare.” I storm to the door, stopping for one last look back at Arsen Adamov.
He’s watching me patiently, like he expects my temper to flare out. Like he’s waiting for me to close the door and come crawling back to the desk.
