Page 137 of What Comes Around

I skimmed the first page, then the next, my stomach tightening as the meaning clicked into place.

Apple was demanding a paternity test. And reimbursement of her medical expenses.

I lowered the papers slightly, my fingers tightening around the edges.

“She wouldn’t do this,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him, “if she wasn’t sure.”

Knox stood near the window, one hand resting loosely in his pocket, the other holding his phone.

“She’s sure because she’s crazy,” he said. “Not because she’s right.”

I studied him. He didn’t look angry or worried. Like none of this touched him. But I knew him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders.

“She’s really pregnant,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe. But not with my baby.”

I believed him. I did. But the whole thing still gnawed at me. My mind kept spinning through possibilities I didn’t want to consider.

“You’ve never donated sperm, have you?” I asked. “To a clinic or anything?”

His head snapped toward me, his brows drawing together.

“No,” he said immediately. “Never.” He stared at me for another second, like he was trying to understand how that possibility had even entered my mind.

“I just needed to ask,” I said quietly.

His expression softened, as he stepped closer. “Ashley,” he said, his voice lower now, “I have never given anyone access to something that could create a child. Not accidentally. Not intentionally.”

His fingers brushed lightly along my jaw. “This is Apple trying to trap something she can’t have.”

I exhaled slowly, but before I could respond, he turned away and picked up his phone, calling his lawyer immediately.

“I received the paternity request.” He paced behind the desk, his free hand settling on his hip. “No. We’re not contesting the test. We’ll select the lab.” His eyes flicked briefly to mine. “Yes. Today. I want it handled cleanly. No room for dispute.”

He ended the call and set the phone down, then looked at me for a long moment.

“You can stay here,” he said.

I frowned faintly. “Here?”

“In my office.” He stepped out from behind the desk then, his attention never leaving me. “You don’t need to go back to your desk. You can work from here today.” He paused a step in front of me, then added more quietly, “I’ve been thinking about moving your desk in here permanently.”

I blinked up at him.

“So I can keep an eye on you.”

“People in the office will talk,” I said softly.

“They already do.”

He didn’t sound concerned in the slightest. He reached out, his thumb brushing along my cheek, slower this time, lingering.

“I like knowing where you are,” he said.

My pulse stumbled.

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he tilted my head slightly upward. He leaned down, closing the distance between us, his mouth finding mine in a slow, deliberate kiss. Then the kiss deepened. His lips parted mine, and his tongue slid against mine. His grip tightened at the back of my neck.