Chapter 36 Amara
AMARA
The only thing that feels better than parading around a fancy party in a two-thousand dollar dress is going home, ripping that dress off, and flinging it across the room.
Silver sequins fly everywhere, showering the tile of the estate like confetti, but I don’t even care. Watching it shatter into a million pieces almost makes up for the fact that my heart is also in a zillion little shimmering shards all over the floor.
I should have known better. I should have known that going to a business party wasn’t going to end well. It’s not like being there meant I was with him. Even if I am carrying his baby.
Ransome Rozanov is married. And not to me.
I toss my silver heels into the closet and make my way to the kitchen.
I would murder for a stiff drink right now, but I’m going to have to settle for Neapolitan ice cream.
I don’t even like Neapolitan ice cream, and I’m half-tempted to text him that.
Ever since I moved in here, Ransome has kept a stocked kitchen for me, all healthy foods to nourish me and the baby.
It’s very nutritious, save for one pint of rotating ice cream flavors, and just my luck, it’s never the flavor I’m in the mood for. Still, it’s the best I’m going to get.
I pluck the container from the freezer and grab a spoon from the drawer, closing it with my hip. Then I proceed to dig a hole to China in the strip of strawberry, because the other flavors are unappealing to me.
As soon as the sweet cream hits my stomach, the baby starts moving around. I think it’s the sugar. Normally, it would bring a smile to my face. But right now, it only brings tears to my eyes.
Don’t get me wrong. I love this baby. But being pregnant with a married man’s baby is something I could do without.
As I stand in the kitchen in my underwear—a lacy black set that I wore assuming it would be seen at some point tonight—I catch my reflection in the sheen of the stainless steel refrigerator.
When did I get so pregnant? I look like a cow. A cow eating ice cream. A cow eating ice cream in her underwear because I left a party early because I was wearing the same dress as the baby’s father’s wife.
I toss the ice cream in the trash and throw the spoon in the sink with a clamor.
Who am I kidding? Jenica is gorgeous. Not only that, but she’s rich and powerful and comes from a family worthy of being in Ransome’s presence.
Even if he does hate all of them. Ransome hates everything, so that’s not the point.
The point is I am pregnant and alone and don’t belong there. And as I look around the room, at all the expensive furniture and original art and the view of the city, I realize I don’t belong here either.
I don’t belong with him.
Sweeping up my dress off his perfect floor in his perfect estate.
My phone rings in my purse, and I make my way back over to the floor by the door where I dropped it. Electra’s face pops up on the screen and I answer it.
“Girl. You will not believe what Sean did,” she starts without even saying hello.
“Let me guess. He’s seeing someone else and you deleted his number and threw the gifts he gave you in the toilet.”
“What? Oh my God, no. Even if we did break up, I’d be keeping the gifts. Do you have any idea how much they’re worth?”
“I mean, I’ve seen the diamonds, so I’m guessing a lot.”
“A lot-lot. But no. We didn’t break up. He bought me a car.”
I blink. “He bought you a car.”
“Yes!” Electra squeals. “It’s a fucking Mercedes!”
“Your boyfriend of six months bought you a Mercedes.”
“Yeah,” she says, and while I can still hear the smile in her voice, I can tell I’m bumming her out a little bit. But I mean, a car? Come on. “What’s with the tone, Grumpy?”
“I don’t have a tone,” I tell her as I lean back against the wall. “I just… Doesn’t it seem a little weird to you?”
“Says the girl who is living in her baby daddy’s fucking castle.” She snorts. “It’s just a car.”
“But a Mercedes,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, he’s not going to buy me a Civic.”
“I’m just saying, it feels like lovebombing.” I grab the broom again, because I have no less than five sequins stuck to the bottoms of my feet and I’m going fucking insane. “Also, when do I get to meet him?”
“He works a lot.”
“So does everyone else. But I mean, you go out with him. You do go out with him, right? On dates?”
“Yes, we go on dates!” she snaps. “Just not… in the traditional sense.”
I stop sweeping. “What do you mean not in the traditional sense?”
“Like… we don’t go to normal places. We go to hole-in-the-wall bars and stuff. Places where, if you didn’t know it was there, you totally wouldn’t know it was there.”
“Like speakeasies?” I ask.
“Like… I don’t know! Cool little places where he knows everyone. Kind of janky on the outside but totally swanky on the inside.” She sighs. “Look, I know it’s not like me to stay with the same guy for this long, but I like him.”
Of course you like him. He buys you cars as gag gifts.
I don’t know what’s going on with this Sean guy, but I also have my own problems. Like getting all these sequins off the floor so I don’t have to explain to Ransome why my dress exploded all over his house when he gets here. If he gets here. I’m sure he’s going home with Jenica after the party.
Because Jenica is his wife.
“Listen,” I tell Electra, coming back to the conversation. “I love you. And I just want you to be careful. And if you’re happy, I’m happy. But I want to meet him soon, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “And maybe we can go for a drive in my new car.”
“I’d like that.” I force a smile in the hopes that I sound genuine. Even though I have no desire to ride around in her lovebomber.
But I do want to know who the guy is. She never dates men this long. She’s also never this secretive.
I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.
A few minutes later, I am finally sweeping the last of the sequins into the dustpan when I hear the door open.
I turn around to see Ransome standing there, his eyes narrow, his chin tilted in confusion.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I ripped my dress,” I tell him, and his eyes follow all the silver flecks falling into the garbage.
“I see that,” he says as he gently closes the door and walks towards me. “You’re also half-naked. And it’s cold in here.”
“I didn’t notice,” I say as I put the broom away and dust off my hands.
Ransome checks the thermostat and then disappears for a moment. When he returns, he has a black robe, which he drapes around me, as well as a pair of fuzzy slippers. He has me sit down on the couch while he slides them on, picking a sequin off my foot in the process.
“Why did you rip your dress?” he asks. He’s sitting in front of me on the floor.
“Because I’d rather not look like the bloated version of your wife,” I mutter, and Ransome’s eyes slice up to me.
“You’re not bloated. You’re pregnant. With my child.”
I can’t tell if he’s mad or trying to be sweet. Neither mood is appealing to me right now.
“Pregnant and bloated. Bloated because I’m pregnant. But what difference does it make?”
Ransome’s eyes slice up to mine. “The difference is that you need to stop comparing yourself to her. I might be married to her, but you are—”
“I’m what?” I cut him off, ripping my foot from his hands and standing up. “The mother of your child?”
“Yes,” he snaps back, coming to his feet as well. “And I don’t care what people think.”
“Yeah, well, I do. Because sitting at that party today, watching her pour over you, being exiled to the bar where I can’t even have a fucking drink all while watching you kiss her in front of me—”
“She kissed me!” he cuts in. “There’s a difference!”
“Like hell there is!” I snap back. “The only difference is at the end of the day she’s allowed to be with you and I’m not.”
Ransome grabs me, pulling me against him hard. His eyes lock on mine, as if to reinforce holding me there. “Who do you belong to, dorogoya?” he asks, his voice low and possessive.
I stare up at him as he stares down at me. “You,” I spit out.
“That’s right.”
He leans in to kiss me, but I shove him away hard. It’s not something I’ve ever done, and he certainly doesn’t expect it, so it catches him off-guard.
“No,” I tell him.
“No?” he asks. “What do you mean, no?”
He tries to take a step forward, but I take another one back.
“I mean no. I’m not kissing you right after you kissed her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. And I want to go to bed.”
I walk around him, and while Ransome’s head follows, the rest of him stays put. I don’t know if anyone has ever told him no before. But like they say, there’s a first time for everything.
“Are you kicking me out of my own house?” he asks.
“I guess I am.”
“And where am I supposed to go?” he snaps, but I really don’t give a shit if he’s angry.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I glance back at him. “Home to your wife?”
Before he can respond, I walk up the stairs, not looking back. He can stand in that spot for the rest of the night if he wants. I really don’t give a fuck right now.