Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

I do want to cheer her up, and she’ll probably still insist on going to her work meeting tomorrow,
so I take her phone out of my drawer, double check that it’s hers and not the clone I made—they have
different cases so I can keep them straight—and pop it on charge so she can have it tomorrow.
I also want to see what she does all day when I’m not here. I know she’s upset, so I want to see
if she reaches out to anyone or shares our good news. And, if I’m being honest, I want to know what
she says if she does.
I lock up the drawer again and tug The Count of Monte Cristo off the shelf. I tuck the key away,
then slide it back into place among the other leather-bound editions. Nothing about this one makes it
distinguishable. I even ensure the spine lines up with the others so it wouldn’t be noticeable that I’ve
taken it off the shelf recently.
There.
I go back to the kitchen to grab Hallie a fresh bottle of water and her soup, then I carry it to the
bedroom.
She’s sitting up when I get there. I have a lap desk in the corner that I’ve used for work on
occasion, so I set it up for her on the bed.
She’s still a little sniffly, but in good enough spirits to quip, “Neat tray. Did you bring your
previous hostage girlfriends breakfast in bed or something?”
I smile faintly, walking around to my side of the bed. “Of course not. You’re my first reluctant
girlfriend. I’ve never had to work so hard for the previous ones.”
She dips the spoon into the bowl and scoops up a bit of broth and carrot. “Tell Chef Ryan I said
thank you.”
I nod that I will, watching her carefully bring the soup to her lips. “Make sure you rehydrate,
too,” I remind her.
She chews the carrot, dropping her spoon back in the bowl and uncapping the bottle of cold
water I brought her. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
“Of course.”
“I hope you’ll be as accommodating when I have pregnancy cravings,” she says sourly.
“Of course. Anything you want. Pickles. Ice cream. The heads of your enemies. Make a list, I’ll
get it all done.”
She cracks a smile. “I suppose I could do worse than a baby daddy who offers to bring me the
heads of my enemies.”
“Probably,” I agree.
Although she’s the one that made the joke, hearing it seems to have made her miserable. “Oh,
God, I’m going to have a baby daddy.”