He’s back. He’s just standing there like he hasn’t been haunting my every waking thought like a ghost for the past two months. He’s wearing a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and gray tie. My eyes may want to wander over his big, athletic body but I can’t pull them away from his gaze. There’s something so predatory about this man, like all my intellect and good sense flees at the sight of him and leaves me with nothing but my basic animal instincts. The worst part is the only instincts that seem to stick around are the mating instinct and the running for my life instinct.

I gather myself as discreetly as I can. He knows I’m lying about the pamphlet. Of course he knows. Why would I be at the hospital to pick up a brochure for a pregnant friend? But it was the best my shocked brain could do in the moment, and now I’m left to backpedal and try to think a way out of telling him the baby is definitely his.

There’s no question about it, because Leo is the only guy I’ve slept with in an embarrassingly long amount of time, and he’s definitely the only one who could’ve managed to get me to have unprotected sex. But he can’t know that. When I found out I was pregnant, I almost tried to find him and tell him. After all, it’s his baby, too. When I remembered the violence I saw in the elevator and tried to picture what life would be like with a guy like him as a father though? I guess my maternal instinct kicked in and made me do something I’m sure I’ll go to hell for.

I plan on having this baby by myself. I wasn’t planning on telling him. Finding him would have been the easiest thing in the world, I know I could’ve just inquired at the hotel, but no, that’s not what I want. And I’m not about to go back on my decision just because he looks ridiculously handsome or because I feel like I have about as much sexual self-control around him as a rabbit. But maybe…

“I don’t know who the father is,” I say carefully. I know I’m treading a dangerous line. Leo may have left me alone all this time, but if he so much as suspects the baby is his, I can see in his eyes that I’ll never get away from him.

“How many potential fathers could there be?” he asks. The muscles in his jaw flex and relax again and again. It’s everything I can do not to take a step back from the anger he’s clearly feeling, but I use my fear as a reminder that I need to be smart about this. I can’t let him know the truth. Not yet, at least. Hopefully, not ever.

“I don’t make a habit of discussing my sexual history with strangers,” I say as coldly as I can manage.

His lips press together and I’m sure his rage is about to boil over. I watch as his nostrils flare and he looks me up and down, but somehow he seems to master his emotions by letting out a long breath and calming his face. “I don’t want to be a stranger anymore,” he says.

A chill runs down my spine. It’s not what I expected. Not at all. I thought he’d blow up on me. I thought the mere possibility that I could’ve carelessly had unprotected sex with some other guy would make him lose interest and cast me aside as damaged goods. But this?

His eyebrows draw down and he looks over his shoulder toward a group of intimidating men in suits. An idea seems to occur to him. He takes my arm and pulls me toward the men. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of my business partners.”

“W-what?” I stammer. “I was thinking more like coffee or something,” I say. I try to plant my feet so he can’t drag me any closer to the group of men, but they’re all watching us already, and I don’t want to embarrass myself any more than I already have by making a scene trying to resist Leo. “Seriously!” I whisper. “I’m wearing a freaking outfit I got from Wal-Mart!”

“And you’re wearing the shit out of it,” he says with a sideways grin.

I watch with fascination as this man who I’ve only known to be mostly an asshole with a whole lot of lust and a little bit of cruel humor drags me toward this group of men like an excited puppy who wants to show off something special he found. He’s proud of me, I realize. I may be fighting him tooth-and-nail, I may be trying to come off as a cold bitch to get him to lose interest, and I definitely don’t deserve it, but he wants to show me off. To say I’m surprised would be an understatement.

“Gentlemen,” he says in a booming voice that draws the attention of the chatting group. “This is Lysa. My better half.”

I nearly choke on thin air. His better half? He’s talking like I’m his girlfriend or… or wife. I have no choice but to smile, nod, and shake the hands of the men who clap Leo on the shoulder and congratulate him on “such a catch” and the most sickening display of ass-kissing by grown men I’ve ever seen. It’s like they worship Leo.

When the conversation finally shifts, I’m able to slip back toward the exit and get some breathing room away from the men. Leo is close behind me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

“Did you want me to kiss your ass too?” I ask.

He arches an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly the way I swing, but at this point I’d settle for anything that meant getting your lips on me.”

I glare at him. “Look. Maybe this all worked two months ago. You caught me at a bad time and I made a stupid, reckless choice. I fu--” I lower my voice when I realize I’m half-shouting. “I slept with you. Yes. That was a mistake. But I’m going to be having a baby in seven months, and I was already busy before I found that out, so if you’ll excuse me...”

He moves toward me in that way he has of using his body to compel me to do his bidding. By sheer force of his will he has me backing up without so much as touching me. I bump into the wall where he pins me, hands planted above my head. “You want serious?” he says, voice an angry hiss. “How about the fact that I fucked a girl in one of my hotels two months ago. It shouldn’t have meant anything. She was a stranger. Nobody to me. She had no money, no connections, no experience. It should’ve been a blip on my motherfucking radar. Something that I forgot with my afternoon piss. But you know what happened instead?”

I shake my head, which is pretty much all the movement I’m allowed with the way he’s surrounding me and forcing me against the wall.

“I couldn’t get her out of my head. I dreamt about her. I woke up with the smell of her in my nose. Every time I closed my eyes she was the only thing I could see. The only thing I could think about. She was so fucking bright she made my world darker the moment she left, but you know what I did? I stayed away. I didn’t let myself look her up in the system, even though her mom was in my hotel and it would’ve been as easy as a phone call. I didn’t go to her. I didn’t look for her. I left her alone.”

“Why?” I ask. I’m startled enough to gasp when a tear rolls down my cheek--a tear I didn’t feel forming or sense at all, but now I can feel the emptiness in my chest like it’s reaching out to him--calling him. I felt it, too, Leo. The words hang soundlessly in my throat because I know they would undo me. They would form a link between us that could never be broken, even if I learned he wasn’t the right man to bring into my baby’s life.

“Because,” he says, stroking my cheek so softly it sends goosebumps prickling across my neck and back. “I was afraid I’d ruin you. Break you. Corrupt you. Whatever you want to call it, I didn’t want to corrupt you. You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t think I could live with myself getting my dirty handprints all over you.”

I laugh, shaking my head a little. “Perfect?” I ask. My voice shakes a little when I speak. I feel carried along by his words, dragged closer to him and closer until my awareness of everything around me fades to a quiet hum. “What happens when you realize I’m not?”

“I’m not talking about everyone else’s idea of perfect. I’m talking about mine.”

“And your idea of perfect is this?” I ask, looking down at myself, not seeing what he sees.

“Yes,” he says without flinching.

He’s either a good liar, or he’s crazy, but he’s already making me wonder if I misjudged him. If there’s even a chance, I owe it to him--and our baby--to give him a fair chance. “Then why don’t you take me out somewhere? I’ll enjoy proving you wrong.”

“About what?” he asks.

“My ‘perfection.’”

He chuckles. “Just one problem. I have an obligation tonight. So if you’re going to come out with me, you’re going to need a costume.”

“A costume?”

“Halloween,” he says with a grin.

“Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I could always pick something out for you, if it’s a problem.”

I give him my best I don’t need your help to pick out a stupid costume glare, but his grin only broadens. “Is there a particular theme?” I ask.

“Maids and masters,” he says.

I feel more than a little silly standing outside my apartment later that night in my costume. It’s a big, old school maid’s skirt and it’s way heavier than I thought it’d be. I found a specialty shop that rents out costumes, so I’ve got it on loan for the night and it only cost me thirty dollars. Not a bad deal. I’m even wearing a bonnet and holding a feather duster to complete the look. It may be a little dorky, but I used to go to renaissance fairs with my mom and we’d dress up in medieval dresses, so I’m used to wearing stuff like this. It also gives me a pleasant jolt of nostalgia to think of the happier times with my mom when all our conversations weren’t tinged with the knowledge that time is finite.

A sleek black car pulls up to the curb in front of me. The windows are tinted so black I’m not sure they’re legal, and the car is shiny enough to give me a mirror-like reflection of myself. Leo steps out of the car a moment later in a suit with a tophat and cane. He’s looking at me with a confused expression as he walks around his car and steps up on the curb.

Once he gets closer, I realize he’s barely holding back laughter.

“What?” I demand, planting my fists on my hips. Even as I ask him, my stupid mistake starts to sink in.

“It’s just--” he says, putting a fist to his mouth and stifling a bout of laughter. He clears his throat and makes a comical effort to smooth the amusement from his features. “You look stunning,” he says, but he only manages to keep from laughing for a few seconds.

“Is it my costume?” I ask, even though I know the answer. “Was it supposed to be slutty maid, not historically accurate maid?”

“I mean, you did dress as a maid,” he says, then starts laughing again.

“Great,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll leave you here to your amusement while I go upstairs and wait for this lethal dose of embarrassment to settle in. Maybe if I’m lucky it’ll drop me before I even make it inside.”

He steps in close and puts his hands on my waist. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re going to be the only woman there dressed like Mary Poppins instead of a slutty maid, and you’re still going to be the sexiest thing there.”

“Mary Poppins didn’t dress like this,” I say with equal parts sulkiness and amusement. “Not exactly, at least.”

“Can you sit in that?” he asks with a smirk.

I slap his shoulder playfully. “Yes. Thank you, very much.” But when Leo opens the passenger door for me, I learn the hard way that I can sit, but only kind of. It feels like I’m sitting on top of a folded up comforter with how many layers there are to the pleats in my dress.

Once he’s in the driver's seat he looks over at me and how I’m all stuffed into my side of the car like a puff of fabric with a head. He chuckles. “You really thought I meant that kind of maid?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. I think if I had spent two seconds actually thinking about it, I’d have guessed not. But I got excited. I knew the perfect little shop to get--well, this,” I say, plucking at the dress. Every passing second makes me feel like more and more of an idiot. The real truth I’m not about to tell Leo is that I was so preoccupied with the idea of going on a date with him I couldn’t think straight. Ninety-nine percent of my brain power was distracted by the red flashing lights and sirens wailing in my brain, leaving a measly one percent left to figure out that billionaire’s probably don’t throw frumpy, historically accurate, hand-crafted maid costume parties.

The worst part is that I’m trapped in my embarrassment. I have to wear this stupid thing all night.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

I give him an odd look, but he only grins in a way that doesn’t make me feel entirely comfortable as he pulls the car away from the curb and starts to drive.

There’s an awkward weight in the air. Leo shows no sign of feeling it, but I do. I keep replaying the way he spoke to me at the hospital and the things he said. It was like he professed his undying love to me, and in that precise moment, I believed him. Now that a few hours have passed, I’m not so sure. It’s as if his physical presence carries some kind of mind-numbing agent that makes me gullible and naive, like I can only fully start to function above a first-grade level when I’m away from him.

But he doesn’t have to know that. So I opt for the safest route and sit in complete silence, which frustratingly seems to suit him just fine. He drives us outside the city and down a residential street, where we take a turn on a hidden driveway that winds down a long, expensively landscaped path. The house we pull up to is a gorgeous continental style mansion with seemingly endless gardens of flowers lit by discreetly placed lighting and tall, perfectly trimmed bushes. Cars are parked neatly on the side of a huge roundabout that circles through the garden and is paved in cobblestones. I see a large group of men and women under the outdoor lights who are talking and laughing by the side of the house, which seems to be where the main body of the party is.

My silly little costume error suddenly feels a lot more embarrassing, if that’s possible. I knew there’d be other women here, but I didn’t know they’d all be so sickeningly perfect. I catch sight of a thin little thing walking in with a tall man. She’s wearing a puffy maid’s skirt so high I can see her ass, and she’s actually one of the more conservatively dressed women I see.

Leo gets out and comes to my side of the car to help me. He extends his hand to me and waits.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m really sorry. I appreciate you inviting me, but I just can’t do it.”

“You’re worried about your costume?” he asks.

I make a face. Yes, of course I’m worried about my costume, but not just that.

“Come here,” he says, pushing his hand a little closer. “Trust me,” he says when I still don’t take it.

For some reason, I put my hand in his and let him close his fingers around my hand, which feels so small in his grip. He leads me to the trunk and pops it with a click of his keys. There’s a leather case in the back with what look like emergency supplies in the event of a breakdown. He pulls out a small retractable knife and clicks out the blade, holding it up for me to see.

“Oh good,” I say sarcastically. “You’ve got a tool to end my misery even faster. Are you going for the jugular or the heart?”

He chuckles, then grips a handful of my puffy dress. “I was thinking of going for upper thigh, actually.” With a quick jerk of his hand, he strips away a handful of fabric from my dress.

I gasp, frantically feeling at the shredded fabric. “Hey!” I whisper-yell, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than I have to from the beautiful couples passing by on their way into the party. “This was a rental.”

Leo sniffs dismissively. “So bill me,” he says, reaching around behind me to shred another huge piece of my dress away.

I have no choice but to stand still while he hacks away more and more of my costume. I briefly consider swatting at him, but dismiss the idea because I’d rather not make him stab me by mistake.

When he’s done, I’m showing half my boobs and my skirt stops just below my ass. He raises his eyebrows as he steps back to take a good look at his work. “Much, much, better.”

“Somehow I don’t think the people I rented this from will agree.” My discomfort at being so exposed is muted by the fact that Leo’s alterations to my costume will actually help me blend in at this party, as hard as that is to believe.

He chuckles. “What’s done is done. Come,” he says, extending a hand toward me.

I look at his hand and I’m overcome by the sensation that once I take his proffered hand, there will be no turning back. I put my palm to my belly, as if the gesture can somehow protect my unborn child from what feels like a reckless, selfish decision, before I reach for his hand. Please forgive me if I’m making a mistake.

Once he has my hand, he uses it to pull me closer, where he wraps an arm around my back possessively and holds me to his side as we walk. It’s such a casual but intimate gesture that I’m sure anyone who saw us would assume we’ve been together for years. I have to admit it feels amazing to be held like this, like I’m something precious he wants to show off and brag about. It even makes me feel a little less self-conscious about my now-scandalously revealing costume.

The inside of the house is just as impressive as I expected. Every last detail is exquisitely cared for and crafted, from the polished wood accents on the walls to the antique furniture--the whole place feels like stepping back in time to the 1800s and crashing a party thrown for the upper-class.

There’s actually live music, too. A band plays tasteful classical music on a platform that looks like it was built to display the grand piano, which is currently being put to use beautifully.

I can’t help biting my lip and smiling up at Leo. “This is so cool,” I whisper.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“So what do we even do?” I ask. I regret the question as soon as it comes out, because it’s a stupid one. It should be obvious, but I’ve never been a party goer. I’ve always found excuses to avoid them, but I didn’t have to embarrassingly broadcast that to Leo.

“To be honest,” he says, shooting me a conspiratorial look and glancing over his shoulder like he’s afraid someone might overhear us. “I usually just make my way around the party to scout out the best food and drinks.”

I grin, looking his body up and down once more like I’m going to find some evidence of his guilty pleasure that I missed before. “I didn’t take you for a foodie.”

“Foodie is giving me too much credit. I just like to eat,” he says.

“Finally, something we have in common.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only thing we have in common.” His green eyes twinkle with mischief as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “We both seemed to like it when you submitted to me.”

I’m blushing furiously when he pulls back. I clear my throat. “That wasn’t me,” I say quickly. “I mean,” I sigh with frustration. “It wasn’t how I normally act. I’d rather we didn’t talk about it.”

Leo frowns. He takes my arm and moves me away from the groups of nearby partygoers so we have some privacy in our own little corner of the room. “That wasn’t you?” he asks. “I don’t think you understand, Lysa. That was the most you there is. All this shit we do to fit in and look right for everyone else? That’s not us. We’re what’s underneath the mask. The desires, the urges, the basic drive to need and to take what we want.”

“No,” I say. “That’s just instinct you’re talking about. The only thing that makes us different is how we react to our instincts and how we control them.”

“That doesn’t explain why your instincts drove you straight to me like a magnet, and why mine won’t let me stop thinking about you.”

I look down. “That’s just simple attraction.”

He presses me against the wall with enough force that I nearly bump my head. One of his hands is on my shoulder and the other is on my hip. I can see the barely controlled emotions on his face--lust, frustration. “You feel that?” he asks through gritted teeth. His hand roams down my leg and then up my skirt, where he grips a handful of my ass.

I squirm against his touch, breath hitching. “People will see,” I gasp. I feel what he’s talking about though, as much as I hate to admit it. My body reacts to him like like I’ve been an addict for years and I’m just getting my first taste after a long dry-spell. The impulse to surrender to his touch is as overwhelming as the instinct to pull my hand away from something hot or else be burned. “Stop,” I whisper.

“That’s not the magic word,” he says, sliding his hand under my panties to take a handful of my bare ass.

I close my eyes. Red and Yellow. Those were the words he told me about two months ago. The safe words.

“Ye-” I start to say, but he kisses my neck, practically mauling me in front of anyone who cares to see.

My throat feels like it’s squeezed tight, unable to take in air. His touch sends little bursts of white-hot pleasure through my body that pools between my legs in the form of molten heat. He’s intoxicating. Addicting. Dangerous.

“Yellow,” I manage to say.

He pulls back, not taking his hands away from me but removing his mouth from my neck, which allows me to think straight--at least a little.

“I guess you remember the safe words, then. Damn,” he says with a half-smile. “I’m going to have my work cut out for me if a little P.D.A. just got me safe-worded.”

I chew the inside of my lip, searching for words to express what I’m feeling. “I feel out of control when I’m near you. I’m always in control. I always think things through--I make the smart decisions. I mean, I’m twenty-one, nearly broke, and I even put away a little money for retirement every month. All I’m saying is I don’t like…” I take a deep breath, trying to force some of the nervousness from my voice. “I don’t like feeling out of control, or like I’m being reckless.”

“It frightens you?” he asks in his deep voice.

He’s not feeling me up anymore, and I don’t remember noticing his hands move, but he holds me now, tenderly. His head is tilted down so he can look me in the eyes, and he holds me by the small of my back.

“Maybe. Okay. Yes,” I admit. “It scares me. My mom is sick and she has been for years. I’ve got classes to pass and a job to hold down. I’ve got this baby to think about now, too. If I can’t trust myself to be in control, I can’t keep all that working. I can’t take care of my mom if I’m at some crazy party with you or--well,” I lower my voice. “Or screwing you in laundry room.”

I expect him to blow off my concerns, but he’s watching me with intense interest, like his life could depend on every word I’m saying. I’ve never had someone listen to me like that, and it’s oddly flattering and comforting to know he’s placing so much importance on my words. “I understand,” he says finally. “But your fear of losing control is exactly why you need to learn to do it.”

I laugh a little. “I don’t think that actually makes sense.”

“No? Think of it this way. You could be like everyone else. You could go through life with your greatest fear hanging over you--holding you down. You could be a slave to your fear and live with the knowledge that one day it will catch up to you. One day you’ll slip, and that thing you’re so afraid of will come out of the darkness and take hold of you.”

“Or?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

He smirks. “Or you could learn to master your fear. Learn to embrace the loss of control. Learn to enjoy submission. Maybe even learn how good it can feel to unload some of your burden.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Besides, my mom is the only family I have left, and she can’t really help me with any of my problems.”

“I could. If you let me,” he says.

I watch him for a long time, not sure if he’s being serious or if he’s just saying what he thinks I want to hear. A chill runs across my skin when I realize I believe him. He really does want to help me, but his idea of help is probably just writing a huge check and dusting his hands off after he’s had his wicked way with me. I’d feel too dirty to accept that kind of help. “You barely know me,” I say.

I jump with surprise when he slams his palm into the wall behind me, face contorting with frustration. “You keep saying that,” he growls. “Let me make something perfectly clear, Lysa.”

I shrink back a little, feeling an odd mixture of fear and arousal from the way he’s so dominant and so uncaring of anything else going on around us. He doesn’t care if half the party is watching or if no one is watching. He is who he is, regardless, and there’s something inexplicably powerful in that.

“Maybe I couldn’t say where you were born or whether you prefer soda or iced tea. I might not know how many boyfriends you’ve had or whether you were a cheerleader in high school or one of the band kids. But if you think any of that is going to have the slightest effect on what I feel right here?” he asks, slamming his hand into his chest with a deep thud. “Then you’re kidding yourself. You can take all the time you need to decide about me, but don’t think for a second that I don’t already know how right you are for me.”

Leo leans in closer, voice low and full of untold emotion. “You’re mine, whether you want to admit it or not. You know it deep down, I already know it, and I’m not going to be satisfied until--” He stops short, biting his lip as if he’s forcing himself not to say what was going to come next.

I’m too taken aback to speak. All I can do is stand here, mouth gaping like an idiot. God, he’s so fucking intense. I can never catch my breath my breath around him, like I’m only ever a step away from losing control, of plunging headlong into his grip.

The part that surprises me is how much I like it.

I may be afraid to let go of my control, but it’s only because I’m so certain my life will come crashing down around me if I do. But when I’m with Leo, I can almost feel his presence like a protective bubble, as if he can bear the weight of it all while I let go. He can be my shield. My release. All I need to do is submit to him. He hasn’t said as much out loud, but I can sense it. He’s not a man who wants a normal relationship where a quick peck on the cheek before work and a card on birthday’s is enough. He wants more. He demands it. I just wish I could say how I felt so sure I was right about that.

He’s about to speak when a man a little shorter than Leo approaches. His hair is cut close at the sides but long on top and pulled into a tight man-bun. He’s handsome, and I’m struck immediately by the similarities to Leo’s features.

Leo’s expression immediately softens when he sees the man. He pulls him into a tight hug, laughing. “Jayce, what are you doing here?”

Jayce looks from Leo to me with an interested twinkle in his eyes. “You’re back in the saddle?” he asks, ignoring Leo’s question.

Leo bulges his eyes at Jayce in a very clear “stop talking before I kill you” way.

"Back in the saddle?” I ask carefully.

Leo turns his angry look on me, but I’m too curious to let him intimidate me right now.

Jayce flashes his neat, white teeth. “Yeah, big tough Leo over here was too torn up over this girl he let get away a few months ago. I haven’t even seen him talking to a woman until tonight, so I had to come congratulate him for moving on.”

“Wow,” I say. “Sounds like she was quite the catch.” I try not to let it show through to my voice, but my stomach twists when I run through the implications. He could be talking about me, but Jayce said a few months ago, which makes me think it was before Leo met me. That, and the fact that a big part of keeping Leo at arm’s length is how he seems too good to be true. Yes, he’s intense and maybe even scary, but I’ve seen softness in him, too. I’ve seen hints of something other than a lust-filled barbarian, and hell, it’s kind of hard to complain about the whole lust-filled barbarian part.

I can admit that I’ve been holding myself back. I’ve been so afraid, not just of giving up control, but of giving him everything. None of this would be so complicated if he just behaved like a normal human and took me on a few dates and kept the conversation to the weather and whatever other boring stuff we could think of.

“Lysa,” says Leo. He’s frowning at me with concern written in his features. “You realize he’s talking about you, right?”

Jayce’s eyebrows shoot up. “I am? Oh shit,” he says, covering his mouth with his fist and wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on blast like that, man.”

Leo ignores his brother. He leans in closer, locking those piercing eyes on mine. “It wasn’t as pathetic as he’s making it sound.”

A laugh bursts from me. It’s filled with surprise and relief, and a little embarrassment for jumping so quickly to such a dramatic conclusion. Now that I’ve had a few seconds to let Jayce’s words digest, I can think back to how it makes sense with what Leo told me at the hospital about how he felt like he had to let me go to protect me. But hearing his brother confirm it wasn’t just some line to win me over makes me fully believe what he said for the first time.

Jayce widens his eyes behind Leo and shakes his head, then mimics eating something out of a container with a spoon while crying dramatically.

Leo turns around just in time to see him and lunges for his brother, who is a half-step too slow and gets caught in a headlock.

“Think you’re funny, you little shit?” says Leo as he grapples with Jayce.

A few people from the party are watching the brawl and laughing now.

“You won’t be so funny if I twist off your girly little man-bun,” growls Leo.

Jayce seems to take his threat seriously, and the intensity of his struggles double. The two of them end up toppling to the floor, where Leo uses his legs to pin one of Jayce’s arms behind his head and push his face to the ground with a hand. He tauntingly places a hand over Jayce’s bun and looks up at me with a surprisingly composed expression given how much force he must be exerting to keep his brother down.

“Mercy?” asks Leo.

I give a thumbs up. “Spare him.”

There’s a sarcastic boo that rises from the small crowd when I grant Jayce mercy. Leo lets him up as the crowd disperses, and Jayce brushes off his pants.

“I was about to reverse that arm bar, you know,” says Jayce.

“And I was about to snap you in half like a twig.”

Jayce sighs. “I’m sorry about him.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is now in total disarray. “He’s a brute. But he makes a great chocolate chip cookie.”

“Really?” asks Leo. “That’s my most redeeming quality?”

Jayce winks at me. “I could’ve talked about your passion for crochet, but I thought you might want me to keep that one on the down-low.”

Leo gives me a look that says Jayce is just messing with him at this point, and his brother seems to sense that it’s his time to make an exit before Leo decides to go for a second round.

“Was nice to meet you,” Jayce says before he leaves.

Leo clears his throat with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “He’s a character.”

“I feel like I just saw another side of you. I liked it.”

It’s a little too dark to say for sure, but I’m almost convinced a hint of red enters Leo’s cheeks.

“Come on,” he says gruffly. “We should see if there’s any good food to plunder.”

I follow after him with a smile playing at my lips. I couldn’t picture Leo as a father until now, seeing the way he is with his brother has given me a vague idea of what it might look like. I’m also struck by a powerful stab of guilt when I think how much he has a right to know this baby is his. I’m going to have to tell him before the baby is born, one way or another. I hope. There’s just so much to lose from telling him right now. He might feel obligated to be with me if he knew it’s his for sure, and I don’t want him in my life out of obligation. Then again, he did tell me there was no way he’d let me go now that there is even a chance the baby is his, so that may not be my strongest argument.

A bigger concern is what will happen if things don’t work out between us. Leo can talk all he wants about how badly he wants me and how surely he knows it, but at the end of the day he’s just a man I’ve seen on three separate occasions, including tonight. Maybe the way I chew my gum or fiddle with my hair will end up driving him crazy, or he won’t like my taste in movies. He doesn’t seem to think any of that will change anything, but I’m not so sure. And if he decides to break things off, knowing full well the baby is his?

What happens then? Will he use however many millions or billions of dollars he has to start some legal battle with me to claim full custody of our baby?

I just don’t know the answers. All I do know is the safest thing right now is to wait. He deserves to know the truth, but not yet. Not until I know where this thing between us is going.