The Billionaire's Illicit Twins - Holly Rayner Page 0,35

to before—and wondering what the hell I was going to wear.

“No, no, no,” I said, sliding hanger after hanger to the side in my closet, and coming across nothing but… business suits. Slacks and dress shirts. A couple of pencil skirts—cute, but useless for a restaurant that, according to its website, required a cocktail dress.

I came suddenly across the one little black dress I owned, and stopped, excited. I’d bought it for some sort of company event and had completely forgotten about it. It had been a cocktail party, right? That rang a bell.

Yes, a cocktail party at one of the partners’ houses. It had been a huge thing out in the outskirts of the city, and I’d had to take a cab to get there because the subway hadn’t run out that far. And since it had been a cocktail party—and I’d been anxious to make a good impression—I’d gone out and bought a brand-new dress for it.

I yanked the dress out of the closet, too relieved for words… and then frowned and looked down at my body.

I was only a little over two months along, but I’d already gained about five pounds—courtesy, no doubt, of the never-ending diet of ice cream with frozen berries. And to be fair, I was carrying not just one, but two babies.

I’d been a lot skinnier when I’d bought this dress. And even then, it had been tight.

Suddenly furious, I tossed the thing onto the bed and started going through my closet once again.

The big problem was—well, the two big problems were—that first of all, I’d never had any real reason to buy clothes that couldn’t go to the office. I’d never really had a life outside of work. Yeah, I went to McConnell’s Bar semi-frequently and I did yoga once or twice a week. I knew the people I went to yoga with, but I wasn’t the one going out for coffee with them afterward, and I certainly wasn’t the one trying to use my yoga pants—or poses—to pick up on any of the guys in the class. I just didn’t have time. My job was too time-consuming, and too important.

And that brought me right back around to the idea that I was now going to have two kids to deal with on top of that job. Maybe. Probably. But not if I took Ethan up on his offer. If I did, I’d only have one baby—but I’d also have enough money for us to survive on. I could open my own practice. Cut back on my work hours. Be able to afford day care.

If I gave him the other baby.

I closed my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed again at the very idea—and the casual way he’d suggested it—and was just about to text him and tell him that the date was definitely off when there was a knock at the door.

I frowned. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and people very rarely knocked on my door unless they were delivering food. I hadn’t ordered anything… but maybe I was getting a delivery from the office?

I hustled to the door, trying to remember whether I’d been told to expect anything, and opened it to find someone I definitely wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t a delivery driver from either of the major delivery services, or even from the post office. Instead, it was a bike messenger.

And he was carrying a box from Saks Fifth Ave.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my frown growing deeper. I never shopped at Saks. I couldn’t afford it.

He glanced at the paper in his hand. “Are you Bella Mayfair?”

I drew back a little bit, very concerned now. People never came to my door asking for me by name.

“I am…” I said slowly.

He shoved the box in my direction, and then shoved a tablet at me as well. “Delivery for you. Please sign here.”

I hesitated at that, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and the guy cleared his throat sharply.

“Lady, if you don’t sign, I don’t get paid. You can decide whether you like the clothes later. Right now, I just need to get to my next delivery.”

“Oh, right,” I said, moving forward with a jerk and taking the tablet.

I scrawled my signature on the screen and handed the tablet back to him. The guy grabbed it and turned, disappearing within moments—and leaving the box from Saks in my hands.

I considered it for another long moment, still frowning, and then finally made my way into my apartment, putting the box