My whole body was shaking. It had been such a rollercoaster of an evening that I was surprised Mikala hadn't come out to see what was wrong. Then again, she was a heavy sleeper. And I'd never been more grateful for it. I never wanted her to see her father like that. Even if he was a complete piece of shit, she didn't need to find it out that way.

My relief at Dorian getting rid of Elroy began to fade as I saw how royally pissed off he was. He wasn’t here to apologize for the way he acted, that much was clear. Which only left one other option.

And I was too fucking tired to deal with any more shit today.

“If you’ve come to make more accusations, you can get the fuck out,” I said, trying to force my voice to be as steady as possible.

Dorian was breathing heavily, eyes fixed on me like he thought I might disappear if he blinked. He looked like he'd had a rough day, and I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Then he completely floored me with the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“Are you pregnant?”

My jaw dropped. I’d been so prepared to rally against him the moment he said anything nasty to me that I was at a loss of what to say.

“You came all the way to Las Vegas to ask me if I’m pregnant?” I planted my hands on my hips. “Have you ever heard of a telephone?”

He took a few steps toward me. Still on edge from the evening’s events, I took a step back. A sad look flickered on his face, but I refused to feel bad for inching away from him. Hell, he deserved it. He couldn’t spit venom at me and then just waltz back into my life like nothing had changed.

Especially with a question like that.

“Are you pregnant?” he repeated. “Briana, please, just tell me.”

Why had he come all the way here just to ask me that? If he didn’t want me to be pregnant, had he come here to make sure that I took care of it so as not to cause some sort of scandal? I didn’t want to think so poorly of him, but it was hard given that I’d thought the world of him until he hurt me so badly.

“No. I’m not pregnant.” Muttering, I added, “But I do need a damn drink.”

I turned and left Dorian in the living room as I made my way to the kitchen. He could stay there, for all I cared. I poured a shot of whiskey and downed it. I was already pouring out a second when Dorian came into the kitchen, looking perplexed.

Thinking he didn’t believe me, I raised the glass in the air, then threw it back. I slammed the cup back down on the counter.

“See,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Not pregnant.”

“Did you…” He frowned. “Did you lose the baby?”

What the hell was wrong with him? He was looking at me like I was some oddity in a science museum. He wasn't angry. Instead, he seemed more...confused.

“No, I didn’t lose the damn baby,” I snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dorian sighed and gestured toward the bottle. “May I?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Part of me wanted to tell him that he may not and that he needed to get out of my house before he found himself unceremoniously ejected with my foot in his ass. But the rest of me felt warm just being in his presence. The rest of me was stupid and emotional and reckless and still cared for him, despite everything he'd done.

I wordlessly poured him a drink, shoving it at his chest as I walked past to go back to the living room. From there, I took a seat on the armchair, feeling a little like a queen holding court.

He entered the room, and I pointed to the couch. “Sit. Explain.”

He sat, but he didn’t seem passive so much as he did lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, he started to speak. “I didn’t tell Enzo what Elroy told me about you, but he suspected that something was up when I went back to New York and was...off. So Enzo, being Enzo, hired a private investigator to make sure you were the person you claimed to be.”

What. The. Hell? My mouth opened, a protest poised at the tip of my tongue.

Dorian held up a hand. “I know, I know. I wasn’t happy about it either. But he was trying to protect me, and I can’t fault him for that. And I wouldn't have come...except there was a picture of you and Tiffany at a women’s clinic. And the P.I. found a positive pregnancy test in your trash.”

I gritted my teeth. “He went through my trash? I’m going to kill Enzo! Who does that? That’s next-level stalking!” I was having a hard time keeping my voice down.

Dorian looked exhausted. It was only then that I realized he’d come here assuming the pregnancy test was mine. I didn't understand. Was he sad? Angry? Happy? It was impossible to tell. He just looked so tired.

“It was Tiffany’s test,” I said finally. “Not mine.” I closed my eyes and lowered my head, gathering strength. When I looked back up, I met his gaze. “I’m not pregnant. So whatever obligation you thought you felt was false.” Thankfully, Tiff's home test had been false too.

And now he would leave. He’d head back out the door and out of my life as quickly as he’d muscled his way in. I’d have to clean up the whole mess with Elroy sooner or later, but at least not tonight. But I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. At least with that on my mind, though, I wouldn’t have much time to wallow in Dorian’s rejection.

Again.