Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Rachel

Tristan Black has long been a man of mystery. A tech mogul who arrived on the scene almost as if by magic, turning everything he touches to gold like Croesus. He’s a mystery, and yet he’s a genuine person who cares about the people around him.

I sit back and stare at my laptop screen, then run my hands through my hair in frustration. It’s probably a recipe for disaster to try to start on a biography while you are waiting for the results of the three pregnancy tests sitting on your bathroom counter.

Grumbling, I set my laptop aside and carry my mug of tea over to the window. I look down sightlessly at the street below as I think back over the past twenty-four hours.

Tristan and I had fucked once more after getting out of the bath, and then he’d woken me up with morning sex. I thought of how I had soaked the sheets the last time and blushed. Tristan had seemed incredibly pleased about that, so I had felt less embarrassed than I would have otherwise.

Three times. What the fuck was I thinking?

I have never, ever had any trouble sticking to a plan—doing the right thing. That particular aspect of my personality is what had gotten Danny and me through when our dad took off and our mom kept shacking up with new boyfriends and leaving us alone for weeks at a time.

Something about Tristan, though, makes me just chuck caution to the wind. As soon as I see the lust in his eyes, it’s like I can’t keep my hands off of him.

I turn away from the window when the timer on my phone goes off. Time to confirm what I already instinctively know to be true.

I have felt fine this morning, thankfully, but the thought of going to look at the results of the tests on the counter makes me feel a little queasy anyway. I swallow hard and force my feet to get moving.

There it is, two pink lines. On each test. All positive. I'm pregnant.

The room spins around me as the reality sinks in. I'm carrying Tristan's child.

Tears form in my eyes, and a combination of emotions overcome me. There is fear, excitement, and utter confusion. What am I going to do? How will Tristan react?

I sink to the bathroom floor, my back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. My hand unconsciously moves to my still-flat stomach. There's a life growing inside me. A tiny combination of me and Tristan.

The thought is both thrilling and terrifying. A couple more minutes pass as I sit there, lost in thought. I imagine telling Tristan, picture his reaction. Will he be happy? Angry? Will he accuse me of wanting to entrap him?

No, he won’t do that, but still…he's in his late forties and has never been married or had children. What if this isn't what he wants? He didn’t sound that excited about the idea of kids or marriage when I asked him about them yesterday.

I finally drag myself off the bathroom floor, and wander through my apartment, touching familiar objects, trying to ground myself in reality. But everything feels different now. I'm different now.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging in the hallway. Do I look different?

Can anyone tell just by looking at me that my whole world has shifted on its axis? I study my reflection, searching for any external sign of the life growing inside me, but of course, there's nothing to see yet.

I’m growing more restless now. Despite my eagerness to keep Tristan at arm’s length, I find myself craving the comfort of his presence.

Even if I'm not ready to tell him about the baby, I want to be near him. I need to see him, and I know that only proves my true feelings for him.

I decide not to tell anyone else about the pregnancy for now.

I need some time to process and I really just don’t have the bandwidth to make good choices right now. Besides, I have a job to do, and it gives me an excuse to be around the man who doesn’t yet know that he’s the father of my child.

***

How are you feeling?

I look at the text on my phone from Cara as Tristan and I ride down in the elevator from his penthouse suite to head to his office. I need to interview the people that he works with and see more of the company. But I’m feeling listless, worried, distracted.

I see that you read my texts, lady. What’s going on?

I glance at the latest text and rest my head against the elevator wall.

“Friends sometimes, eh?” Tristan asks, and I nod, biting my lip like I do when I'm overwhelmed.

“You make it hard for me not to want to grab and kiss you when you do that.”

His words bring me back to reality with a jolt.

I shoot him a glance and then shake my head with a smile. His delicious scent surrounds me, sandalwood and spice.

This morning, I can barely stand how painfully handsome he looks staring down at me. I feel guilty that I can’t tell him about the pregnancy yet. The fact is, I’m scared of what will happen when I do.

I’ve only just met him, I have a book to write about him, and if I’m being honest…I cannot face the thought of him stepping out on me like my ex did, like my father did.

I reach out and cup his face with my small hands, pulling him down in a kiss. He fumbles for my breast in return, growling with what I can only describe as an animalistic desire.

We quickly separate when the elevator stops and the door opens. The man working at the front desk nods at Tristan and says hello.

We step out and make our way outside the building. It’s chilly today, and I shiver a little as we walk to the parking garage.

I take in the Christmas decorations that were placed on the streetlamps last night and try to reach for some happiness about the holidays.

I think of the tiny life inside of me, and I start to feel excited. Christmas is meant to be truly special when you’re little.

Sharing the joy of the holidays with my baby will give me a fresh outlook on a holiday that my family sucked at celebrating.

“Now that I know your thoughts cost way more than a penny,” Tristan says, breaking into my imaginings, “I know I can’t afford to ask what they are.”

I look over at him as we approach his car and chuckle.

“Everything okay?” he asks me.

I nod, feeling bad all over again about not telling him about the baby. “Yeah,” I lie. “Just trying to find some holiday cheer.”

He nods. “If Nancy didn’t decorate for me, I wouldn’t have anything up for Christmas. It’s a conflicting time of year for me.”

“Me too,” I say, feeling warmed a little bit by his understanding. People everywhere love Christmas, so being a child who couldn’t enjoy the holiday was isolating. Tristan’s ability to see and comprehend my pain is huge for me.

“Does Danny like the holidays?” Tristan asks.

I shrug. “He’s kind of like me. He doesn’t really even know what Christmas is supposed to be like.”

Tristan doesn’t reply. He just starts the engine and drives out onto the street.

“Are you worried about me interviewing your staff today?” I say, a teasing note in my tone.

He shoots me a sidelong look, then chuckles again. “Nah,” he says. “Everyone who works for me loves me.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, superstar,” I say back. “Just promise me that you will be okay with me being honest about what they say when I write the book.”

He meets my gaze, something warm hiding in the golden depths of his eyes. “It’s like I say about everything, Rachel. I want you to be your genuine self with me. I want you to be totally honest.”

I know that he’s talking about sex now, not work, and I flush a little. I suddenly recall him licking me in the bathroom, the gush of warmth as I came in his mouth, the soft, springy feel of his thick hair under my fingers.

As if he can sense my arousal, he reaches over and trails his fingers along my thigh. Tingles race along my skin, prickling my scalp and making me feel excited and nervous at the same time.

“I trust you, Rachel,” he says to me, his voice low.

I feel a rush of lust at the sound of his voice, but then guilt rushes in on top of it. He trusts me. But I’m not being honest with him about everything, and I feel terrible.

I swallow hard and wrap my fingers around his, giving them a little squeeze. He links our hands, and we drive like that all the way to his office, looking for all the world like a couple, even if we are just supposed to be business associates.