LILA
"Why does my head hurt so bad?" I tried standing up from the bed but it only increased the aching in my head as the light from the window made me flutter my lashes open.
I stared around in confusion, this wasn't my apartment, the one I stayed in with my sister.
How did I get here? Was I kidnapped?
Where is my sister?
Why did it feel like my brain was trying to claw its way out of my skull?
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my tongue heavy and painful, it was almost like I had a kind of wound inside of my mouth.
The faint scent of cologne—something rich, dark, and distinctly masculine lingered in the air, stirring a sense of unease inside me.
I don't wear cologne so where is that scent coming from?
And that absolutely belongs to a man.
Hold on, am I at a motel? No! A motel isn't this expensive and doesn't look this luxurious.
Fragments of the wedding started flooding in yet I couldn't wrap my fingers into anything coherent.
Something wasn't right.
I forced my lashes apart, blinking rapidly against the harsh morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. My blurry vision adjusted, and I froze.
This… wasn't my apartment.
The bed was a king sized bed and the sheets screamed of affluence. The room was enormous—far too big, far too luxurious, far too 'not mine.' In all honesty? Nothing I could afford even in a hundred years.
I shot up abruptly, and instantly regretted it.
The room spun, and I clutched my head, squeezing my eyes shut to keep from toppling over.
Where the hell am i?
Panic clawed at my throat as my eyes darted around the space. The dark wooden floors, the expensive decor, the towering windows that were transparent yet expensive and the view? The view!—everything screamed money, power, and danger.
And then, my gaze landed on the bedside table.
A glass of water sat next to a packet of pills, neatly placed beside a small sticky note.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Slowly, I reached for it, my fingers trembling as I peeled it from the table. The handwriting was sharp, bold, and maddeningly familiar.
I read the words once.
Then twice.
And still, I couldn't breathe.
"These are After-Sex pills. Do well to take them and try not to relive the memories of last night."
"You were a mess. I was drunk."
"Besides, you have low tolerance, so don't consider drinking again."
- James.
I dropped the note as if it had burned me, my pulse roaring in my ears.
What. The. Hell?
My hands shot under the sheets, patting frantically against my skin. The realization that I was completely naked sent another wave of dizziness crashing into me and between my legs...down there felt very sore.
Oh God..
This was no joke, it was real.
A shaky breath escaped me, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
What did I do last night?
I dug through the chaos in my mind, but all I found were fragments.
Laughter. Heat. The press of strong hands against my waist. James deep voice murmuring things in my ear while I unbuttoned his shirt shamelessly like a fucking slut?
A flash of dark eyes, James lips on mine, lord save me, we kissed?
No. No, no, no.
My fingers clenched into the sheets, my stomach twisting as I facepalmed myself trying to stop tears from running out. I barely remembered anything, but the note—the damn note—told me everything I needed to know.
I had slept with James Sinclair. I had lost my virginity to him. How do I face him?
The man I couldn't stand. The man who blackmailed me into this marriage. The man I was supposed to fake a relationship with for three months.
And I had gone and screwed him.
The sound of the door clicking open made me jerk my head up.
And there he was.
James Sinclair leaned against the doorway, his freshly showered appearance doing nothing to ease the storm inside me. His hair was still damp, tousled in a way that was too effortlessly perfect , and the dark navy robe he wore hung loosely around his broad frame, exposing far too much skin.
His gaze flicked to the note still clutched between my fingers, then back to my face. A slow, knowing smirk curled at his lips.
"I see you're awake." I gulped as embarrassment flushed in my cheek, at this moment I wished the ground could just open up and swallow.
"Yeah, umm…actually, I wanted to be sure about something. Last night, did we…" I trailed off and he shrugged ruffling his damp hair.
"It was a mistake, so I'd rather we don't talk about it. Just take the pills and the maids will show you to your room."
*
"Congratulations, Mrs. Sinclair. You're pregnant."
The words hit me like a freight train as I stared at her with shock all over my face as I shook my head slightly.
I froze, my breath hitching as I stared at the doctor. My fingers trembled as I reached for the crisp report she held out to me.
Pregnant?
That couldn't be right. That shouldn't be right.
"That can't be possible," I rasped, my throat suddenly dry. My heart pounded against my ribs. "I took After-Sex pills. I—"
The doctor smiled, far too cheerful for someone who had just turned my world upside down.
"Emergency contraception isn't always one hundred percent effective,"she said with a slight shrug. "Besides, you should be happy. You're about to give birth to the next Sinclair."
She giggled.
She actually giggled.
As if this was some fairytale where a woman getting unexpectedly knocked up by her cold, arrogant, business-driven husband was a dream come true.
I glared at her. "Don't tell me what I should be happy or sad about." My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn't care. "And I want this to stay between us. I expect full patient confidentiality."
Her smile wavered. "Of course."
Gripping the report tightly, I stormed out of the office, my mind spiraling.
By the time I slid into the waiting Uber, my hands were ice-cold, and my stomach churned with anxiety.
How the hell am I supposed to tell James?
He hired me to be his wife for show. This was supposed to be business. A three-month contract, a perfect facade to fool the media, and then we'd walk away.
And now?
Now, I was carrying his child.
There was no way I could hide it—we lived in the same house. He would find out soon enough, and when he did…
I had no idea how he would react.
The moment I stepped inside the house, I made a way for the stairs. If I could just get to my room, just have a few minutes to breathe, to think—
"Where have you been?"
His voice stopped me in my tracks.
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the report. Slowly, I turned toward the dining area where James Sinclair sat, casually sipping his coffee as if he hadn't just sent a shiver down my spine.
He looked at me with his usual piercing gaze, his dark brows slightly furrowed. Waiting. Watching.
I could lie.
I could buy myself some time.
But what was the point? Better to get it over with
I exhaled and took a step closer.
"I went to the hospital."
His entire posture changed. He set his coffee cup down and turned fully toward me, his expression hardening. "You're ill?"
I shook my head. "No. I just… felt off, so I decided to get checked out."
James pushed back his chair and stood, his sharp gaze scanning me. As if he could see right through me, see whatever it was I wasn't saying.
I had to do it now.
Wordlessly, I reached into my bag, pulled out the report, and extended it toward him.
He took it, his fingers brushing against mine, and unfolded the paper.
I braced myself as His eyes scanned the document, moving over the words with precision. Then, they stilled.
His jaw clenched.
His fingers curled tightly around the paper, but his face remained unreadable.
Then, his gaze lifted to mine, something dark and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
"You're pregnant?" A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded.
"Yes." The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating and I just wished he would say something, anything but something regardless.
He wasn't saying anything, he just stared at it so blankly, it would be much better if he yelled or at least screamed, anything.
I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the silence.
I forced the words out quickly. "Look, if this is a problem— I know it's a problem and I know I shouldn't have gotten pregnant, I'm so sorry."
"Why are you apologizing? I had sex with you and you woke up quite too late to take the After sex pills so don't put a labor on it, jesus. You almost sound like having sex with me is such a bad thing." He muttered, staring at me with a calm expression as he stared back at the report.
"If you want me to get rid of it, I can— I should probably get rid of it."
"No." His voice was low, firm, and absolute and I blinked, my breath catching in my throat suppressing the other words that were about to come out.
"What?" I hope he isn't thinking of me keeping the baby, that complicates everything further.
James took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming.
"You're keeping it. We're keeping it."
His tone left no room for argument, but his eyes…
His eyes held something else entirely. Something I couldn't quite place.
For the first time since this contract marriage began, James Sinclair looked at me as if I wasn't just a business deal.
And that terrified me more than anything.
We're keeping it? We? That's way more deadly than being struck with a sledgehammer.