As if the attention hadn’t already been focused on me, it doubled in that moment. Everyone waited in hushed anticipation for my answer. My fingers dug into my disheveled hair as I tried to hide the nervousness in my demeanor.

How had I missed my assistant being pregnant? Shouldn’t that have been something I noticed?

Had she told me, and I’d forgotten?

Fuck.

I looked back at the group of women standing in awkward silence, waiting for my answer. The leader of the group—the blonde from accounting—smiled smugly, as if she already knew my answer. Her hand rested at the curve of her hip as it jutted out, accentuating her long, lean legs and pert round ass.

How I’d love to wipe that pompous grin off her face with a few lashings of my tongue. My dick twitched at the mere thought.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Sorry,” I replied swiftly, pulling my gaze away from the daring blonde with the chocolate-brown eyes. “And, Bethany? Don’t take too long. You have a job to do,” I added bluntly, turning quickly toward the door that led back to my office.

That led back to hell.

But, for now, at least it felt like my salvation.

Every bone in my body seemed to moan with exhaustion as I rose from the plush leather chair, cracking my neck to ease the tension that had slowly been building throughout the day. Flexing my fingers, I looked out to the panoramic skyline, noticing the brilliant orange sunset I’d seen hours earlier replaced with thousands of twinkling bright lights dotting the skyline.

What time is it?

Glancing at my watch, I groaned, realizing I’d been here far longer than planned.

Again.

My stomach audibly rumbled in protest to the lack of concern for my well-being, and I began gathering my things for home.

Home.

What an odd word. There were so many quotes, songs, and poems about the simple four-letter word. It empowered people, ignited wars, and gave hope to those who were lost.

But, as I walked through the halls of the darkened building, on my way to the place I called home, there was nothing remotely close to hope. The large apartment I rented in a sought-after Manhattan high-rise was more than most people would ever have in their entire lives, yet when I entered, I felt hollow.

There was only ever one place in my life that truly felt worthy of the word home.

Our family’s country estate.

Tucked far away from the city, it was like stepping back in time. Long forgotten was the hustle and bustle of the metropolis, replaced with long, winding paths through the rose garden with our mother and evenings on the porch, searching for fireflies.