Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Zonnique
The hotel suite smelled like roses and nerves.
I adjusted my blazer for the third time, glancing at the clock on the wall.
Ten minutes to noon.
The final interview.
That morning had already worked my nerves. I’d gone through three candidates, and every one of them found a different way to disappoint me.
The first was too eager. Desperation rolled off her so strongly I could practically smell it through her perfume. She smiled too hard, agreed too fast, and kept bringing up the payment before I could even finish questions.
The second one showed up carrying enough drama to qualify for her own reality show. She walked in loud as hell, arguing on the phone with some man, then casually explained to me how she almost fought valet because he “opened her car door aggressively.” Absolute chaos in human form.
And the third?
Jesus.
She was too damn opinionated. I’d ask a simple question and somehow end up trapped in a TED Talk about women’s empowerment, organic eating, and how “society doesn’t value emotional labor.” I wanted answers, not a podcast episode.
By that point, I was one irritating answer away from ending interviews altogether. Even breathing too loud around me probably would’ve pissed me off.
I took a slow breath and glanced down at the final name stamped on the folder in front of me.
Talia Pippin.
My fingers drummed on the table as I stared out the window.
Merge had no knowledge of the convoluted plans I’d pieced together, and I intended to keep it that way until I found a suitable surrogate.
Days after my distressing doctor’s appointment, I took matters into my own hands.
Anger and desperation surged through me as I dialed the doctor’s office, my voice quivering.
In a moment of weakness, I made a choice that many desperate women have made before.
I exchanged my body for his silence. It wasn’t a decision I felt proud of, but when your future, your security, and the life you’ve worked toward are all hanging by a thread, shame starts feeling a lot less important than survival.
With Merge's sperm already on file, the only thing left was finding a surrogate. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the privilege of handling that through proper legal channels.
If Merge caught wind of what I was doing before it was finalized, the entire plan would collapse before it even started.
So, I embarked on a discreet search, confiding only in women I knew I could trust and professionals smart enough to understand that silence was worth more than loyalty in situations like those.
I started asking pointed questions.
“Do you know anyone who needs half a million to carry a baby? Must be healthy, with a clean record, no drama, no history of addiction. Confidential. Quick turnaround.”
By the end of the week, I had four names and a headache that wouldn’t quit.
I picked up my tablet, reviewing the files one last time when the knock on the door came.
“Finally,” I muttered, as I rose to greet her.
I opened the door and found myself momentarily speechless. The woman standing in front of me was nothing short of breathtaking. With smooth, flawless skin, thick, luxurious curls, and piercing eyes that seemed to glimmer with a dangerous allure, she could easily captivate any man in any room.
“Oh.” I blinked rapidly, forcing my composure back into place. “I mean, hi. You’re Talia, right?”
“I am.”
Her smile was sweet yet there was something unreadable beneath it.
I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was.
She’s too pretty.
She had the kind of face men remembered after seeing it once, and unfortunately, I knew exactly how Merge responded to women who looked like her.
I could already picture his eyes lingering too long, that lazy smirk spreading across his face while he pretended he wasn’t interested.
This is supposed to be a business arrangement. The last thing I need is the potential surrogate becoming the type of woman Merge wants to handle personally.
Shaking off the thought, I opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in.
“Please, come in. Sorry, it’s been a long morning.” My voice held an edge of nervousness.
“It’s fine.”
Talia took a seat on the sofa across from me, hands folded neatly in her lap at first, trying hard to look polished and composed.
Yet, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle signs of her nervousness: the slight bounce of her knee, the way her fingers fidgeted against each other, and the quick glances around the room.
Honestly, I couldn’t even blame her.
She was applying to carry a child for a ruthless, intimidating billionaire with enough power to make people uneasy at the mere mention of his name. Merge had a way of walking into a room and shifting the entire atmosphere without saying more than a few words.
Yeah… that alone would’ve made anybody anxious.
“Okay. Before we begin with the twenty-one questions, I need to confirm that you fully understand the nature of this arrangement. If selected, you’re familiar with the man whose child you’d potentially be carrying, correct?”
Talia smiled softly. “Of course. Jac—” She stopped suddenly. “Merge,” she corrected quickly.
My brows pulled together faintly.
For a second, it almost sounded like she’d been about to say another man’s name entirely.
Strange.
Still… I let it go.
“Yes,” I replied smoothly, though my tone cooled slightly. “But you’ll address him as Mr. Belvior unless he personally tells you otherwise.”
Talia nodded immediately. “Understood.”
“Are you comfortable carrying his child? I only ask because he isn’t exactly the easiest person to deal with.”
That was putting it mildly.
“He’s extremely private, very particular about how things are handled, and his moods can be…
” I paused carefully, choosing the least insulting word possible.
“Overbearing at times. People tend to react to him one of two ways: they either become intimidated very quickly… or far too emotionally invested. And for an arrangement like this to work, professionalism and boundaries would be very important.”
Talia sat quietly for a moment before nodding slowly.
“I understand. But honestly, difficult people don’t really scare me.
Most of the time, they just want control over their environment.
And no offense, but I wouldn’t really be there to build a relationship with him anyway.
I’d be there to fulfill my role, respect the boundaries, and keep things professional.
“Then she added lightly, “Besides… I’ve dealt with enough rude people in customer service to know how to survive a moody rich man.”
“Very well then. Let’s move along.”
I flipped open the file in front of me.
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm and professional. “We’ll start with the basics first… nothing too invasive yet.”
Talia nodded. “Sounds good. But I have to say, that ‘yet’ sounded a little threatening.”
“It should,” I replied, making her chuckle.
That seemed to loosen her up a little.
“Do you have any children of your own?” I continued, maintaining eye contact as I scribbled notes.
“No,” she answered swiftly. “Never been pregnant.”
I glanced up briefly. “Not even a scare?”
Talia snorted softly, a genuine laugh escaping her lips. “Oh, I’ve had scares. Girl, you know those moments when your period is late, and suddenly you transform into the most prayerful person alive for forty-eight hours.”
As I jotted down her response, I had to fight the urge to smile.
“But no actual pregnancies,” she added more seriously.
“Alright. Let’s talk about your family health history. Are there any major health issues or genetic conditions that run in your family? Things like breast cancer, heart disease, diabetes, or any conditions that could be hereditary?”
“None that I’m aware of,” Talia replied, her brow slightly furrowed. After a brief pause, she added with a hint of humor, “Well… unless being poor counts as genetic.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised by her unexpected response.
“I’m just kidding,” she quickly cleared up, her voice laced with a nervous laugh. “Mostly.”
I made another note.
“Mmm,” I groaned lightly.
Something in my stomach hadn’t felt right all morning. I kept brushing it off, convincing myself it was nerves or something I’d eaten, but the longer I sat there, the worse it became.
The nausea climbed slowly, twisting through my stomach and creeping up my throat until pretending it wasn’t happening became impossible.
I swallowed hard and forced my expression to remain composed as another wave washed over me.
Not now.
“Talia, would you please excuse me for a moment?” I asked, already rising from my seat.
I didn’t wait for her response.
The second I turned away, I hurried toward the bathroom with one hand pressed against my stomach and the other covering my mouth. I barely made it inside before slamming the door behind me and dropping to my knees.
Gripping the sides of the toilet, I threw up so violently that my eyes watered and my entire body trembled.
“The fuck?” I muttered weakly afterward, flushing quickly before pressing a trembling hand against my stomach.
There’s no way.
Absolutely no way.
Not after everything the doctor said.
Not after all the testing, all the humiliation, all the pressure.
“I cannot be pregnant… not after going through all this.”
Panic flickered across my face, followed almost immediately by a dangerous spark of excitement. But the feeling died just as fast once the doctor’s words came rushing back to me.
Infertile.
Low chances.
Unlikely.
I quickly shoved the thought away, shaking my head at my own stupidity. There was no point getting hopeful over something that probably wasn’t even possible.
Stress… that has to be it.
Or that damn smoothie from earlier.
I moved to the sink, wiping beneath my eyes carefully before fixing my lipstick and forcing myself to breathe normally again. But just as I reached for the bathroom door, my expression suddenly dropped.
The files.
My stomach twisted for an entirely different reason.