The armored Maybach glided through the busy streets of Manhattan. Eloise sat in the backseat, her fingers tightly gripping the quilted makeup bag on her lap.
The driver pulled up to the discreet rear entrance of Dr. Fletcher's Upper East Side clinic. Eloise pulled her dark sunglasses down over her eyes and walked quickly through the VIP doors.
Dr. Fletcher was waiting for her. He guided her into a private examination room and personally drew a vial of blood from her vein.
"When was the first day of your last cycle, Eloise?" he asked, labeling the tube.
She gave him the date, her leg bouncing nervously against the examination table.
She sat in the private waiting lounge for an hour. Every minute felt like an eternity. Her palms were damp.
The door opened. Dr. Fletcher walked in, holding a single sheet of paper. A massive smile broke across his face.
"Congratulations, Eloise," he said. "Your HCG levels are perfect. You are exactly four weeks pregnant with a healthy pregnancy."
Eloise leaped out of her chair and threw her arms around the doctor. "Thank you. Oh my god, thank you." She pulled back, her eyes wide. "Please, you can't tell Bronson. I want to surprise him."
Dr. Fletcher looked slightly confused but nodded. "Under the HIPAA privacy laws, your medical records are strictly confidential. I won't say a word."
Eloise left the clinic, her chest feeling lighter than it had in three years. She told the driver to stop at a high-end baby boutique on Fifth Avenue.
She walked through the aisles of pastel fabrics and stopped in front of a display of newborn shoes. She picked up a pair of pure white cashmere soft-soled booties.
The clerk wrapped the tiny shoes in crisp tissue paper and placed them inside a white box, tying it with a silver silk ribbon.
Eloise carried the box back to the penthouse, her mind racing with plans for her trip to Silicon Valley tomorrow.
The front door of the penthouse suddenly clicked open.
Eloise froze. Bronson walked into the foyer. He was supposed to be in California.
Panic seized her. She shoved the silver-ribboned box deep into the storage compartment beneath the living room sofa, kicking it out of sight just as Bronson stepped into the room.
He took off his suit jacket. He looked exhausted. As he walked toward her, a harsh, chemical smell hit Eloise's nose. It smelled like medical-grade sanitizer and bleach.
He pushed her gently onto the sofa, leaning over her. His hand cupped the back of her neck as he leaned down to capture her lips.
Instinct took over. Protecting the tiny life inside her, Eloise turned her head sharply.
Bronson's lips brushed her cheek. He froze.
The temperature in the room plummeted. He pulled back, his dark eyes turning instantly cold. "Why did you pull away?"
Eloise's heart hammered against her ribs. "My period started today," she lied quickly. "I'm just cramping badly. I don't feel well."
The coldness in Bronson's eyes vanished. It was replaced by a look of profound relief, mixed with a sickeningly sweet tenderness.
He pulled her against his chest, his large hand rubbing slow circles over her lower abdomen. "I'm sorry, baby. I know how hard this is for you."
They sat in silence for a moment before Bronson spoke again, his voice low. "Eloise, if I ever made a mistake... would you forgive me?"
Eloise pulled back and looked into his eyes. "What kind of mistake?"
Bronson looked away, adjusting his heavy platinum watch. "A lie. Something done to protect you."
"I have zero tolerance for betrayal and lies in this marriage, Bronson," she said firmly. "You know that."
Bronson was silent. Then, his arms wrapped around her like steel cables, crushing her against him. The force of his grip made it hard to breathe.
"I will never betray you," he whispered fiercely into her hair. "I am completely loyal to you."
Eloise rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady, powerful beat of his heart. She felt entirely safe, completely unaware of the dark, calculating look in his eyes.
