Chapter 5 – Slater
Chapter Five
SLATER
T he man has lost his freaking mind. “You think because you popped my cherry that I’m yours?”
“Yes.” He says it without hesitation and as if this is one hundred percent logical. I've heard that Brooks struggles with social skills, leading some to perceive him as cold and unapproachable. I’m wondering if there is more to that.
“That’s insane; with that logic, why aren’t you living with whoever took your virginity?
” Brooks starts to speak, but I hold my hand out to stop him.
“Let me guess: It’s different for men.” I roll my eyes.
I guess I can add sexist to the list of cons for Brooks, which I'm happy about.
The list is pretty short, and I need to start growing it to keep my resolve.
“That is what I am trying to do.”
“Huh?” I’m confused, and I am starting to feel overheated.
"You took my virginity." Brooks' expression remains the same.
"Right." I laugh, but he doesn't join me. "Brooks, seriously." His face still doesn’t budge.
"I am very serious." Oh my God. The realization that he’s telling the truth that I was his first makes me a bit dizzy. I press my hands to my cheeks.
“I need to sit down.”
“Come inside. You're a bit pale. Are you eating enough red meat?”
“I eat whatever I can keep down.”
“So you are sick.” Brooks’ hand goes to the small of my back, leading me toward the building. When we enter, he guides me over to an elevator, inserting a key to be able to hit the button for the top floor. It’s not until the doors are closing that I realize I have no clue where we are going.
“I’m not sick, and where are we going? The Plate is on the bottom floor.”
“And I live on the top floor.”
“Of this building?” I thought it was all offices above.
“Yes. I had it converted to a condo. It makes it easier for work.”
I don’t want to think about what it costs to own or even rent a whole floor in this building to live in. I’m guessing based on the offer I saw in the folder that night in the hotel, it’s a drop in the bucket for Brooks.
“You must be freaking loaded.”
“I do well, and Graham gave me a deal.”
“Graham Dassault?” Everyone knows who Graham Dassault is. He and his family own half the buildings in the city. He has so much money that he once bought his one-year-old nephew a brand new luxury car for his birthday. He caught a lot of social media flack for that stunt.
“Yes, and he is getting married.”
“Why did that just feel like an accusation?”
“Only informing you.”
“Okay.”
“I bet him in a poker game, and the top floor was in the pot.” I can only blink, trying to process that.
“You gamble whole buildings?”
“Not the whole building. I only have the bottom floor where The Plate is and the top.”
“Right, that makes way more sense and is understandable. I mean, you guys are basically paupers.” I blow out a breath.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal an entryway with two double doors directly in front of us.
There is a white, boxy bench on one side that would hurt your ass if you sat on it for more than a few minutes.
On the other side, there is a giant painting.
This is fancy and no place for a little one. My hand goes to my stomach.
“Maybe we should talk out here.” My eyes go back to the bench. My butt and back ache just thinking about sitting there to have this conversation with Brooks. Based on how things have gone so far, I highly doubt Brooks is going to let me tell him he’s my baby daddy and leave a few minutes later.
“You need water and food.”
“Are you going to make something?” I could maybe eat. I might want to punch Brooks in the face for using me, but why can’t I use him right back and get food out of it? I have been itching to get into his restaurant.
“I will.” He opens one of the doors. I step inside, peering around because who isn’t going to be nosy when you’re in a rich person’s house? I’ll just be sure not to touch anything.
“Must have been a hell of a poker game,” I mutter, venturing in more to an open living room.
You have to step down into it. A giant sofa wraps around it; I’m guessing it’s custom.
No way it would fit that perfectly otherwise.
It faces a beautiful fireplace. That is not what catches my eye, though.
It’s the giant floor-to-ceiling windows that give you a view of the city and out to the ocean.
“We typically have it once a week.”
“Right.” I shake my head. “This view is wonderful.”
“There is a patio off the kitchen with a small garden.”
“Of course there is.” I let him lead me to the kitchen because I definitely want to see that, and I'm not disappointed.
"Holy crap. This kitchen is insane." It might as well be industrial, from the giant refrigerator that is all glass and you can walk into to the stove that might be the size of my whole kitchen.
A sudden thought hits me. Brooks is rich; hell, maybe even wealthy.
It’s obvious at least one of his friends is, and they are powerful.
What if he tries to take my baby from me?
My eyes fill with tears. Fuck me and these hormones.
I try to fight it, to tell myself to be rational, but once I’ve started down this path, there’s no reasoning with me. Not even by myself.
"Are you about to cry?" Brooks's expression turns to one of pure panic. "If you hate it, we can move somewhere else or redo the place. We can gut the whole thing."
“It's not that.” I try to fan my face with my hands.
“Sit.” I don’t know why or how, but part of the bottom of the giant kitchen island slides up, disappearing while revealing stools. Great, he’s not only rich but from the future.
I drop down into a seat. Brooks hurries to get me water, or waters. He sets down three glasses.
“Mineral, tap but filtered, and sparkling.” I go for the tap, gulping it down. “I’ll see about calling a doctor.” Brooks pulls his phone out.
“Don’t.” I try to stop him, but he’s already got his phone to his ear. “Brooks,” I hiss.
“Yes, this is Brooks Neal. I need to have Dr. Kincaid come to my residence immediately.”
“Stop.” I tug on his arm. “I’m not sick.”
“The doctor will check you over. It won’t take them long, and you can sit right there.”
“Brooks!” I growl. “I’m not sick. I’m freaking pregnant!” I shout the last part accidentally. It just flooded out of me. Brooks's eyes widen. “I’m going to throw up,” I say before rushing over to the sink, losing whatever food I had managed to keep down this morning.
This was not how this was supposed to go, but that is becoming a running theme with Brooks—my baby daddy.