Chain Reaction 3.1.83: This Is Bad

 

Braydon

     This is bad.

     Isabella got to work early today, but that's not what's bad.

     I'd rather have a frontal view, but the back isn't half bad either. Curse my stupid brain.

     Yeah. Something's happened, and it's bad.

     Saturday, the roads were impassible in the heart and northern part of Eden, so people stayed put. I'd been visiting my parents (caddy-corner from where Isabella lives now). I very casually (oh come on, staying at my parents' was a strategic move) went over to her house on Saturday, and I re-met Brielle. I can't believe how similar they look.

    Again, that's not what's bad.

    What's bad is that Isabella got a phone call. I'd been there for about four hours, and I was enjoying the comfortable atmosphere (even if what Isabella was wearing was driving me crazy if I thought about it too much). Isabella took the call, walking into another room.

    There's someone else. 

    I wasn't trying to eavesdrop when I got up to use the restroom--located right next to the room where she went. All right, dammit. That's exactly what I was doing. And from what I could tell, she was trying (not too hard, mind you) to tell someone she couldn't see him that evening--because I was there.

     When she came back to the living room, she didn't say anything about the phone call. So I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to give away that I'd heard, and I didn't want to appear the jealous type. And I didn't want to have an argument because I know what she'd say. So, instead, my chest aches.

    A few gym members walk in and greet me, catching Isabella's attention. She gets off the treadmill and walks toward me. I meet her halfway.

     "So I never got to ask you Saturday since Ben might've heard. How did the meeting with the lawyer go?"

     "Oh." She blushes. Sh*t. "We talked about what I wanted and didn't want. He seems to think Kade will fight for custody." She fidgets with her hands. "And you and I need to talk."

     "I'm not free until after lunch." This is very, very bad. "Is everything okay?"

     "I don't know. That depends on you." More fidgeting. "I need to get to the desk now."

     "I'll cancel everything. What's wrong?"

     "You can't cancel everything. You have that meeting with the climbing wall manufacturer. They're surprisingly busy. It'll be another month if you reschedule." She escapes.

     Dammit!

      Oh, plum, this isn't happening. What the plum do we need to 'talk' about? "That depends on you." What does she mean by that?

      It's all I can do to focus on my clients and that infernal meeting. Finally, the damn things are over, and I can talk to Isabella.

     Only I may not want to anymore.

     She doesn't wait for me to greet her. "The meeting with my lawyer morphed into going to dinner with him. I'd thought he just wanted to continue the meeting and get something to eat at the same time, but that was only half-right at best. He keeps asking me out."

     The ache in my chest explodes, and I'd swear my heart was pouring out all over the desk and floor. I close my eyes and take a breath, hoping that helps.

     "And what have you told him?" Her lawyer. Her f--king lawyer. Obviously, he has no qualms with pursuing a still-married woman. Why should he? He's a f--king lawyer.

      "I keep telling him that I don't know. I mean, I don't know, Braydon, because I'm not allowed to figure things out where you're concerned."

      I feel strangely outside my own body when I ask, "Well, how do you feel about him?"

      "I don't know!" She makes an 'augh!' sound. "But do you want to know what he did tell me? He said I can do whatever the plum I want. He's a good lawyer, and can fight anything. I know he is because he convinced the premier to release a man convicted of espionage!" She, of course, means her father.

     "So you can do whatever the plum you want."

     "Yes."

     "Then what do you want?" Sh*t. Oh, sh*t that look on her face. That's way too damn hot.

     She saunters over to my desk. Then she climbs on top of it!

     I grab her arm. "What are you doing?" Someone could look in here at any second!

     Is this a fantasy? Have I lost my mind? 

     "I want you to kiss me," she says, answering my 'what do you want' question.

     "Get off the desk. Someone could see!"

     "I don't care." She sits on my keyboard.

     "What? Are they going to accuse me of sleeping with the boss-man? Hah, if only." She straddles me, putting her feet on my chair. My hand has a mind of its own as it travels up her thigh.

     I swallow, at least I try to. "Kade could use this."

     "Let him try."

     "Isabella, it's not that I don't want to. Plum, I want to."

     She pounces.

     "Do you?" she asks, millimeters from my lips. "Then show me." Her fingers stroke my face.

     No, I can't. I can't remember why I can't, but I can't. It's like I'm drowning. F--k, I could overpower five of her, yet she weakens me with a single touch. I let out a pathetic, almost crying noise.

     She kisses me. Sh*t. But it's too gentle. "Please, don't." There's a reason. Right? There's a good reason, somewhere, why I can't just throw her legs up on my shoulders and go at her like a wild animal.

     Her face crinkles up. "Fine."

     Ah, crap. "No, wait. Listen to me, please." She stops how she was starting to get off my desk.

     "I love you so. much. That's why I want you to pull through this, and I don't want you to do it by leaning on somebody else."

     "But I'm not."

     "I'm here to help you, to support you, but you need to also figure yourself out."

     "And I can do that with you."

     "If Kade used me against you, I'd never forgive myself."

     "Adrien said not to worry."

     That wakes me right up.

     "Please don't date him. At the very least, wait." Yeah, because then it won't be a fair fight. I know her ten times better than he possibly could. Of course, that also means I know how he could win.

    She flops her hands down on her thighs. "So, what? I'm just supposed to string both of you along?"

     "Well, you can string me along. Hell, put me on a leash and drag me around everywhere you go."

     A smile breaks out on her face. Thank the maker. "So does that mean I can drag you up to my bedroom and--" She has to stop when I put my hand over her mouth. When I remove it, she cocks her eyebrow and asks, "Wasn't it you who said 'torture can be fun'?"

    "And it can." I squeeze her thighs. No, don't go into mush-for-brains land again! "Later."

    She glares beautifully. "You are, without a doubt, the most STUBBORN man alive!" She pushes me away and gets off the desk.

    I watch her ass sway as I beg, "Please don't date him." She never said what she'd do.

    Just like in an old movie I saw once, she slowly turns to look at me with a livid glare.

     "I've never liked it when people string people along. I'd rather date you, Mr. Stubborn. But if you're not interested, what's stopping me from dating Adrien?"

     "Just don't."

     She shakes her head like she can't believe me, that I could still hold my position, and she leaves my office.

     At first, I get up to storm after her, but I remember that didn't work so well the last time. I have a seat on the little sofa thing I have.

      He could win. If he spoiled her rotten, he might. But what could possibly be his motivation? Sure, she's beautiful, but she's more than that, and she needs someone who knows she's more than that, but she can't see where she's headed. He'd tire of her. He couldn't make her really happy.

     So what do I do? I'm up against an unscrupulous bastard.

     Do I give her what she wants? Go down to her office and tell her we can go back to my place where I'll make her beg for mercy? Give up everything I want for her just so that I don't lose her?

     This is bad.

Diamond

     What a horrible day at work. First, my boss sends me on a wild goose chase, having me go after a story that was nothing but a well-rehearsed rumor. Thank plum I took the time to check for another source, who told me a completely different account, and I verified that story. THEN, my boss gets MAD at me for writing the counter-story! Did he actually think I was going to send false, grossly-biased information to print?

     Once again, I wish in vain that my book had sold better. Oh, I made a few thousand off it at first, and checks for a few hundred more come in almost monthly. But I can't live off that, so, off to journalism hell I went.

      In all honesty, it's not the worst job. I write for the Eden News Network website, sometimes typing something up for the news anchors to report on. I'm pretty sure my notoriety as a writer, not to mention being Alexander Goth's daughter, helped me get the job.

     I've met some very interesting people along the way, one of whom throws amazing parties. He's a photographer who keeps trying to get me to turn model. Hah! The last thing I need is to constantly obsess over my appearance. Not that I don't at all, but I don't need to do it to the extent a model would.

     My stomach rolls over. Ugh! Not again! I think I might be coming down with a stomach bug. My coffee is done. It smells really good.

     But the second it passes my lips, I have to immediately spit it back out into the sink. What the plum? My stomach turns over again, and my mouth starts watering. No! I dash into the bathroom.

     I make it just in time.

     Oh, it's horrible!

     I'm not running a fever, and I don't feel terrible ALL the time.

     What if... No. I couldn't be pregnant. I haven't had a steady boyfriend in ages, like three months, and he wasn't around that often to begin with. Sure, we woohooed, but I would've noticed a pregnancy from him before now, right? I did have that one-night stand, but we used protection.

      I freeze.

      The party.

      That awesome party at the photographer's house. I woke up the next morning, naked, in one of the guest bedrooms. I had to 'borrow' a robe I found in the closet to wear home. That was a bad morning. My head was killing me, and, yes, the way I felt, I'm pretty sure I had some wild woohoo while drunk or wasted or both.

     Thing is, I don't remember. Whoever it was wasn't there come the morning.

     Am I pregnant? 

     This is bad.