Maisey Yates - Greek Mavericks - At The Greek's Pleasure

Everything Apollo had said, all of the things he had told her that her father was guilty of, had settled down deep inside of her, and created just enough doubt about...everything that she wasn’t sure she could deal with right now.

And then, purely selfishly, there was the issue of her firing.

She stood up, the floor pitching beneath her as she rose from the couch for the first time in hours. Being unemployed was bad for her wardrobe choices. She had been wearing sweats for three days, because there was no one there to see her anyway. Yesterday she’d worn flannels with small foxes on them. Today, her pants had owls.

“Very sexy,” she said, crossing the length of the apartment and heading toward her fridge. She opened it up, immediately swamped by the smell coming from the inside. She wrinkled her nose. Something did not smell right. But it wasn’t like she kept that much food in the fridge.

She dry heaved, and slammed the door shut. She’d forced herself to eat when she’d first woken up, but nothing tasted like...anything. A broken heart did that to you, apparently. But any semblance of an appetite she might have was gone now.

She felt like she had licked the inside of the tennis shoe. Okay, that thought made her stomach feel even worse.

She heard a knock on her door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. People didn’t just gain admittance to the building, so it had to be someone who already lived here. Though, her neighbors didn’t speak to her, so she had no idea who it was or what it could be about.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed the apartment and undid the dead bolt and the chain, jerking it open just as she realized she should have looked through the peephole first.

But it was too late. The door was open, and standing there was her worst nightmare.

Suddenly, the vague sense of nausea intensified and she ran from the room, losing her breakfast violently in the bathroom.

“Elle?” Apollo’s voice was coming from behind her.

“Stay away,” she said, shakily getting to her feet. “I’m...horrifying.”

“You’re sick,” he said, his tone vaguely accusatory.

“I...wasn’t.” Except she had been—though not this sick—but off her game for the past few days.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” She wandered over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. “Who buzzed you in?”

“Some young woman who lives down the hall. Nose ring. Pink hair. She thought I looked trustworthy.”

Elle laughed. Bitter, hollow. “She thought you looked like you belonged in her bed. I would give her advanced warning, but I imagine she wouldn’t really care either way.”

“Sadly for her. I’m not on the market.”

“Okay. If you aren’t here to hook up with my down-the-hall neighbor, why are you here?”

“Would you believe that I came to check on you?”

“No.”

“I want you back.”

“No,” she said, her tone incredulous. “You can’t have me back. You were awful to me. You fired me.”

“And now you don’t have a job. I thought you might be interested in pursuing some sort of arrangement.”

She laughed, flinging her arms wide. “And here I am, vomiting as you ask me to come be your mistress. Really, there are probably more romantic settings than the bathroom.”

“You need money. You certainly need a way to occupy your time.”

“You’re despicable.”

She swept past him, trying to hold her head high. Difficult to do when the man who had made love to you then humiliated you had just seen you puke.

“Maybe,” he said, lingering in the door frame, bracing his hands against it. “But it doesn’t change the facts.”

“Oh,” she said, the world tilting slightly. “I need to lie down.”

He frowned. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

“I told you, I only just... That, in the bathroom.”

“You’ve been otherwise feeling well?”

“Not really. But then, you humiliated me and fired me. So I don’t know how well you could possibly expect me to feel.”

“I’m not talking about your emotions, I’m talking about physically.”

“No. I have not been feeling very well. But your emotions inform things like that.”

“Have you gotten your period?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What kind of question is that?”

“The only question that matters to me right now.”

Ice shivered down her spine. “I haven’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t... It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re here vomiting and looking pale, you haven’t had your period in the past month and you don’t think that means anything.”

“We...”

“Were not very careful.”

No, they hadn’t been. They hadn’t used a condom in the elevator, and again during that last time at his home. So really... She hadn’t had a period since the elevator. “No, I guess we weren’t.”

“And it didn’t occur to you until just now that you might be pregnant?”

“No,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide. “No. I’m not... I’m not.”

“You have no way of knowing that.”

No. She didn’t. Because she hadn’t taken a test. And, while she had never been particularly regular, that hadn’t exactly been a problem because she had been a virgin. Now...it was a bit suspicious.

“I mean, I would prefer to wait a few days...”

He had already pulled out a cell phone. “Yes, Alethea? Find a discreet women’s doctor in Manhattan who can see a patient immediately. Text me the information once you have it. When I say immediately, I mean I’m about to get in the car and start driving. They had better be ready to see us.”

He hung up, and she could only stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“We are going to answer this question once and for all, agape. And make no mistake, if you are carrying my child there is no question that you are coming back to Greece with me. Immediately.”

* * *

He could do nothing but pace outside the office at the posh, private medical facility he had taken Elle to.

He had found himself back in Manhattan for business reasons, and then he had displayed a characteristic weakness and found himself at Elle’s building.

He did not know what manner of witchcraft Elle possessed that she made it impossible for him to forget her. Forget how she made him feel. Whether it was four weeks in the past, or nine years—before he had ever even touched her. She was a woman who lingered in his mind in a way that none before her—or since—ever had.

He wondered now if she had been some sort of bad omen. If the fact that he had never been able to get her out of his mind had been a warning of some kind. If she were truly pregnant with his child, he could not discount that. He had never intended to have children. But the moment the idea that she might be pregnant had entered his mind he had known that he would take possession of his child.

After his own childhood, after the way he had lost his father, he knew he would never subject his own child to such a thing. To a life without the man who was meant to protect him.

He gritted his teeth. His own father’s feelings had hardly been his fault. He had been pushed into ruin by David St. James. The fault would always lie with St. James. Apollo however was standing on his own two feet. No one was pushing him anywhere.

The door opened, and Elle emerged, clutching a few pieces of paper, her face pale. He didn’t need her to speak to know what the answer was.

He had never imagined being in this situation. He supposed that any man who was sexually active could potentially face it, but he had always been very careful. So it was never anything he had considered seriously. But he had not been careful with Elle. The theme in their relationship, and the consequences of that, were now coming home to roost.