I don’t wait to hear anything more, not from him, or my mom. I take off my pumps and dart up the stairs, slamming my door and locking it. In a moment of almost paranoid terror, I rush over to the giant leather chair my creepy mother was sitting on and push it in front of the door.

“What are you doing?” I drop into it, trying to catch my breath as my phone starts ringing.

“Shit.” I reach for my handbag, praying it’s Cher, but deep inside I know it’s not.

“Breathe, Raven.” I shouldn’t answer this phone call, should ignore all calls from him, but it’s like a compulsion. I need him, or at least that’s what it feels like right now.

“What?” My voice sounds like I’m ready to cry, which I am, but he certainly doesn’t need to know that.

“What’s wrong with you?” His voice is so strong, powerful. I close my eyes, feeling the tears already trickling down.

“I… just don’t feel well,” I whisper.

“You’ve been taking your birth control, right?” His voice, which only seconds ago seemed magical, makes my eyes bolt wide open.

“I never said I was on the pill.” And I know I haven’t. I’ve been surprised he never once questioned me about any sort of birth control. Actually, I figured he’d had a vasectomy. Clearly not.

“Do you think I’d come inside you if I didn’t know you were on birth control? I don’t want kids. I always wrap it up.” Again, his voice is so calm, in control, I almost want to lie and say I haven’t been taking it just to hear some sort of emotion rather than his sanctimonious tone.

“What are you talking about?” I’m two seconds from losing it. “How could you know that I’m on the pill?” I demand, covering my mouth with my hand. My leg starts to bounce.

“I have all your medical records.”

“So you spied on me?” Though I’m tempted to scream, or lose it, I keep my voice steady.

“Of course,” he says like it’s no big deal.

And I start laughing. It’s either that or break down and sob.

“Why?”

“You know why.” His voice is calm, almost soothing. It’s how he always wins. He stays calm, controlled, no surprises.

I shake my head and stare out the window. I’m completely in over my head with a man who seems to have zero conscience. Strike that. I’m in love with him, even knowing exactly what he is: an asshole.

What’s wrong with me?

Shaking my head, I close my eyes and speak slowly. “Jett, I’m not sick because I’m pregnant… I’m in love with you.”

There, I did it.