Chapter Eight
Maron
I’m sitting on my ass at my office, my eyes glued to the computer screen as I work through my weekly profit reports.
I glance at the clock, realizing it’s almost eleven in the morning. Time for a break. I’ve been at it since seven. Stretching my legs while still seated, I feel the tension ease in my muscles. It’s time for my daily training session, the one thing that helps me channel my pent-up sexual energy. I guess I could just hit up an escort site and order a girl to suck that tension out of me, but lately, I’m just not in the mood for that.
Especially since I saw Mindy at New York High.
Just as I’m about to stand up, I hear a knock on the door. Must be Pavel, my right-hand man. "Enter," I say, my voice coming out gruff.
But it’s not Pavel who walks in. It’s Eva. She's wearing a revealing red minidress and a pair of thigh-high boots. She flaunts herself in front of me, her eyes locked onto mine with intense focus.
I stare at her.
Without saying anything, she sits down, and gracefully crosses her legs, not taking her eyes off me. It’s clear that she’s not wearing panties and it’s also clear that she wants me to know that.
"What are you doing here?" I question, a slight frown forming on my face. I shift in my seat, feeling an unwanted stirring of arousal. It's been a while since I've been with a woman. The fleeting release I get from fantasizing about Mindy is no real substitute.
Eva continues to stare at me for a long moment, before rising from the sofa. Her dress rides up to reveal another flash of her clean-shaven pussy. With deliberate steps, she stalks close to me, pressing her body against mine until her breasts are flush against my face.
"I came here to make you happy, Maron," she purrs in my ear.
Blyad.
I guess I should have updated my security on the latest developments. If I did, she would not have been able to walk into my office, unannounced. But the sensation of her soft, pliant body against mine ignites a primal lust within me. It's been too long since I've ravaged a woman with my body and mind. And the way she’s offering herself to me feels too easy. A beautiful woman coming on to me, serving herself on a silver platter.
Except Eva is exactly the woman I don’t want to fuck. Not anymore.
"Eva," I say firmly, "We've been over this. It's over between us. You need to accept that and move on."
But Eva isn’t deterred. She simply ignores my words and drops down to her knees in front of me. Her skilled fingers eagerly begin to undo my belt and zipper.
“Stop,” I blurt out before I can think otherwise. Eva freezes and looks up at me with hurt and confusion in her eyes as I nudge her away. I take deep breaths to calm myself, trying to push away the arousal that still lingers from her touch.
“Please, Maron,” she begs. “I only came here to make you happy.”
Fuck!
Why won’t she just understand?
I stand up abruptly, pulling away from Eva’s grasp. I have no tolerance for this bullshit anymore. We talked about this already and I’m not one to have the same conversation twice. If words alone won’t help, I’m just going to have to kick her out. "Goodbye, Eva," I say, moving toward the door to open it for her. "Don’t contact me again."
But as I reach for the handle, her voice stops me in my tracks. "I’m pregnant, Maron," she whispers, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach.
I freeze, my hand hovering over the doorknob. For a moment, I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I turn slowly, my eyes narrowing as I take in her tear-stained face. "What did you say?"
Eva stands up, her body trembling. "I said I’m pregnant, Maron. With your child." She looks at me. "I… I didn’t plan this. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do."
I shake my head, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "That’s impossible, Eva. I always wore a condom. You know that." But even as I say the words, a flicker of doubt creeps in.
Chert voz’mi!
Can she really be pregnant?
This is the last fucking thing I need right now. Or ever. But Eva must see a flicker of uncertainty in my eyes because she takes a step toward me, her hand outstretched. "I’m telling the truth, Maron. I took a test. Multiple tests. They were all positive."
Doubt hits me again as my mind races with the implications of her words. I turn away from her, my hand clenching into a fist at my side. If she’s telling the truth, then this is a fucking problem. But I know one thing for certain: I won’t let her trap me. I won’t let her use pregnancy as a way to worm her way back into my life.
"Eva, if you’re really pregnant, I need to see the evidence," I say, my voice firm and unyielding. "A positive test. Or a DNA test to confirm I’m the father. If I am, I’ll provide financial support for the child. But that’s it. I don’t want you in my life."
Eva’s expression darkens, her eyes filling with a mix of desperation and resolve that sets my internal alarm bells jangling. She storms toward the cupboard, her trembling hands violently as she jerks it open. She snatches a bottle of vodka, and her eyes dart between me and the alcohol, their wildness reflecting her desperation.
"I can’t do this alone, Maron," she whispers hoarsely. "I’m not strong enough.” She pauses. "You know what? Screw it," she mutters, reaching for the vodka. "If this is how it ends, so be it. Your pills should do the trick. I’ve already swallowed a handful of your precious Tramoxine." With those words, she raises the bottle to her mouth and gulps down the liquid.
My fucking heart seizes in my chest and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. Tramoxine and alcohol are a deadly combination and Eva is aware of that.
"Eva, stop this shit!" I roar, lunging forward to grab her wrists and to pry the bottle from her grasp. "Don’t you fucking dare!"
But she’s not listening. "Let me go, Maron!" she screams, jumping away from me. Her voice is high and hysterical. "I’ll do it, I swear to God, I’ll do it!"
My hand snaps out and I manage to grab her forearm, but she is relentless, her desperation fueling her strength as she fights back. The bottle falls to the floor, splashing the liquid across the polished wood. With a final wrenching twist, I allow her to break free from my grip. Tears stream down her face as she backs away from me, her eyes wide and haunted.
"I loved you, Maron," she sobs, her words barely intelligible through her tears. "I would have done anything for you. But if I can’t have you, then I don’t want to live."
Before I can form a coherent response, she turns and flees the room. All I hear is her anguished cries echoing down the hallway. I stand there, my chest heaving, my mind reeling from the chaos of the last few minutes.
Motherfucker.
This is not good. A hysterical ex possibly carrying my offspring and using it to manipulate me is never good. I should have just kept my dick in my pants instead of fucking her for two years. Or at least I should have been more careful.
But then again, what if she’s lying? She’s crazy enough to make this up and use it to wiggle her way back into my life.
Whatever the case, I’m going to have to find out the truth.