Page 64 of Masked Seduction

I’m already perched on a barstool when Claire walks in, and I’ve got butterflies in places I didn’t know could flutter.

The plan was to have a drink or two, catch up, maybe gush a little about Abram, then head off to Abram’s for our date.

But now… I’m not exactly in the mood for merlot. And if I am pregnant, I can’t be drinking anyway.

Claire spots me instantly and beams, practically skipping over in her heels. “Well, well, well,” she grins, pulling me into a tight hug. “If it isn’t the personal assistant badass. What the hell have you been up to?”

I laugh, the sound more nervous than I’d like it to be. “Oh, you know. Work. Life. Debauchery.”

Claire narrows her eyes. “Debauchery, huh? You do look suspiciously well-laid.”

I arch a brow. “Suspiciously?”

“Yes. Suspiciously.” She slides into the seat beside me, tossing her purse onto the bar with a dramatic flourish. “So spill. Who is he? And don’t try to distract me—I will stab a bitch for answers.”

“Jesus, Claire.” I laugh genuinely this time, trying to play it cool, but there’s no hiding the flush in my cheeks. “Okay, fine.”

She leans in. “So?”

I smile. “He’s intense. Rich. Smart. Hot as hell.” I pause, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “We’ve been seeing each other. Well, kind of seeing each other, for a little while now. He was actually the guy that night at the club… the one I hooked up with.”

Claire blinks. “Wait. Wait.Wait. Is this the boss?Yourboss?” she says a little too loudly.

I wince. “Yes.”

“Holy hell, Jenna.” She grabs my arm. “You’ve been thirsting over this man since you started there, and now you’re just casually telling me you’re seeing him?”

“It’s complicated,” I reply. “But then again, it isn’t. I didn’t plan for it. It just happened.”

Claire stares at me like she needs a second drink just to process what I said. “You’re dating your hot mob boss and you didn’t lead with that?”

“Claire—”

“No. No. I need to lie down. Or scream. Or get every single detail. Preferably all three.”

I glance at the bartender. “Can I get a club soda with lime, please?”

“Club soda?” She studies me like she’s trying to read the fine print. “And you’re not drinking wine tonight because…?”

I hesitate just a beat too long. Her eyes sharpen. “I…”

“Okay, now I’m officially concerned.”

I sigh, shoulders slumping as the bartender sets my drink in front of me. “I might be pregnant.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t say anything for a beat, just watches me. When she does speak, it’s a curse. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.”

She rests a hand on mine, steady and warm. “How late are you?”

“A week. Maybe more. I didn’t even notice until I found a box of tampons in my desk drawer today and realized I haven’t needed them.”

Claire nods slowly. “Okay. So, are you big-time freaking out, or just a little bit freaking out?”

“Both,” I admit. “It’s not just the maybe-being-pregnant part. It’s what it would mean. A baby. With Abram. A child born into all this danger and secrecy… honestly, I don’t even know what he does half the time. I don’t want to raise a kid in that kind of world.”

Claire squeezes my hand. “That’s valid. But you’re not alone. And no matter what happens, you’ll handle it. You always do.”