Sallinger, Elene: Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

Skyler Brooks couldn’t believe she’d allowed this to happen. So much for a genius level IQ. She’d been as dumb as a fence-post and now she was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place.

It so had not been worth it either. Sure, he’d been attractive and suave. He’d said all the right things and gotten into her head. But the sex had been mediocre at best. Could she be any more cliché?

A man with an ego that big had no room for anyone else in his bed. Initially, she’d been so flattered by his attention she’d practically thrown herself at him. Now, she couldn’t get far enough away.

She had to stop and grab the wall, collecting herself as a wave of nausea so deep it almost knocked her to her knees ran through her. Leaning against the painted cinderblocks, she took several long, deep breaths. Saliva welled in her mouth and she tasted a bilious tang. She would be damned if she’d puke in the middle of the hallway. Swallowing frantically, she bolted for the nearest ladies’ room.

Throwing open the door, she threw her backpack to the ground and flung herself into one of the stalls just in time. Fortunately for her, there was nothing in her stomach to bring up, having already brought up the salad she’d had for lunch before Professor Ross’s class. Her entire diaphragm clenched and held as she heaved and heaved, bringing up nothing but bile. By the time the spasms stopped, she was panting from the exertion. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she hugged the cool porcelain, waiting to ensure no more would be coming up.

She’d confronted him, told him she was pregnant. She’d expected it would force him to finally let her go. He wasn’t the sort who would want a child.

Nothing had prepared her for his response.

Rather than abandon her as she’d hoped, he’d picked up the phone and coolly arranged for her to have an abortion. There’d been no more emotion in his voice than if he’d been ordering lunch or hiring a rental car. When he’d hung up the phone, he looked at her with such disdain her skin had crawled.

‘You will take care of this inconvenience. Do you understand?’ His voice, once so provocative, was hard enough to cut glass.

She’d gaped at him, at a complete loss.

‘Do you understand me, Skyler?’

‘You can’t force me to do this. What if I want to keep it?’

He’d stood then and moved over to where she sat slumped in the chair closest to the door. Leaning over her shoulder, he’d been close enough that she could smell the tang of coffee on his breath and the scent of his cologne. He’d grabbed her breast and squeezed hard, forcing her to arch. She cried out and he only squeezed harder.

‘You don’t get it yet, you little slut, do you?’ He’d grabbed her ponytail and pulled her head back so that their eyes met. ‘You’re nothing but a piece of pussy to me, but I’ll not have you ruining that pussy as long as I feel like using it. Nor will I have you trapping me with a brat. You will keep that appointment or I will make you wish you’d never been fucking born.’

Squatting in the stall of the ladies’ room, Skyler began to laugh. Shows what he knew. She already wished she’d never been born.

Gathering herself, she stood on wobbly knees. She flushed and waited for a few more deep breaths before lurching to the sink. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying. She looked like hell and felt worse.

After splashing cold water on her face, she ripped several paper towels out of the dispenser and blotted before balling them up and shoving them into the trash can. One more deep breath and she turned and shrieked.

‘Professor Ross!’ Her heart raced a mile a minute. She hadn’t heard the professor come in. She’d probably been too busy crying.

Professor Ross was leaning against the door to the restroom. She held Skyler’s backpack in her hand. A small frown crinkled her brow. Other than that she was the picture of calm. Skyler had always admired her. She was sexy and classy and funny and she always had a nice word for her students.

So many times she’d watched in awe as the professor had made complex chemical ideas sound fun and interesting. Skyler considered her a mentor and role model. Right now, though, she was the last person Skyler wanted to see.

‘Skyler, sugar,’ she drawled the way she did in that light Southern twang that made her sound like the classiest phone sex operator out there. ‘You wanna tell me what’s going on?’

‘Professor. No disrespect –’ Skyler held up a hand as if to ward the professor off ‘– but, no I don’t.’

‘Are you pregnant?’

Skyler didn’t deny it, but she didn’t feign outrage either. She was too damn tired.

‘Professor, that’s really none of your business.’

‘Skyler, I just want to help. Please talk to me.’

More tears welled in Skyler’s eyes and she could feel her lips wobble, but she wasn’t going to cry now. Her tears wouldn’t solve anything.

‘You can’t help me, Professor. No one can.’

Squaring her shoulders, Skyler walked to Professor Ross and held out her hand for her backpack. The professor hesitated; concern shone out of her green eyes, but she ultimately gave Skyler the pack and moved aside.

Skyler felt like a true shit for her attitude, but what could Professor Ross do for her? He was her boss, after all.

Bridget watched Skyler retreat down the hallway. She moved like she had the world on her shoulders. If the girl was pregnant, this wouldn’t be the first time it had happened to one of her students. She only hoped whoever had knocked her up would step up and be responsible. She had a very bad feeling, however, that this “unchangeable appointment” was an abortion.

Not that Bridget was passing judgment. It was between each person’s conscience and God whether they took that route or not, but the risks were so high if Skyler didn’t take care of this the right way.

After all, she should know. Unconsciously, Bridget rested a hand on her lower abdomen. Yes, she should definitely know.

She wasn’t coming. Connor checked his watch for what had to be the fifth time. It was 1.15 p.m. and Bridget didn’t strike him as someone who was anything other than punctual. She carried herself with the charm and class of a true Southern belle. With her sexy drawl and sensitivity, she was all gentility and refinement, but he sensed something in her. An eroticism that she seemed to keep under lock and key. That mystery, that enigmatic quality had kept her in the forefront of his thoughts ever since their coffee date. Hell, it had kept her the main star in all his fantasies as well.

He hadn’t been so intrigued by a woman in a very long time. He liked that she was older too. Not that he was a baby, or she even that old. But he was 28 and, while she’d not admitted her actual age to him, he was guessing late 30s from some of the cultural references she’d dropped about growing up. The 80s was definitely her era.

Maybe it was growing up the way he had with his grandparents. They were in their late 70s when he’d gone to live with them. Maybe it was having to assume the role of caretaker when he was so young, but he’d never really fit with the girls in his age range. He was too serious. He wasn’t enough fun.

Well, it was damned hard to be “fun” when you had to worry about Gran falling and breaking a hip while you were at school because she was too damn stubborn to ask for help. How could you not be “serious” when you had to rush home every day and make sure your grandfather was taking his medication as prescribed before going to your after-school job at the drugstore because from the age of 14 you’d been helping make ends meet.