When My Husband Protected His Pregnant Mistress

The next evening, I went to Ardor.

It was the most crowded lounge in downtown Los Angeles. Low velvet booths, dim amber lights, and photographers waiting outside the doors.

I wore a dark silk dress and hired an escort named Derek. He was tall, polished, and had kind eyes. I paid him three thousand dollars just to sit next to me and order drinks.

"What's the job, pretty lady?" Derek asked.

"Just put your hand over mine," I said.

He did. I took a photo of our linked fingers on the marble table, with two cocktail glasses in the frame. I posted it on my personal account without a caption.

Cole saw everything I posted. He had an alert set on his phone.

He arrived forty minutes later.

He didn't take off his coat. He cut through the crowded lounge like a razor. People parted to let him through. When he reached our booth, his jaw was clenched tight. A vein pulsed along his neck.

Without a word, Cole grabbed Derek by the wrist. He twisted it back with crushing force. Derek gasped, his chair scraping the hardwood floor.

"Touch her again," Cole whispered, his voice dangerously low, "and I'll break every bone in your fingers. Get out."

Derek looked at me, then at the murder in Cole's eyes. He didn't argue. He pulled his hand free and vanished into the crowd.

Cole turned to me. His chest rose and fell fast. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm single," I said smoothly, sipping my club soda. "I can do whatever I want."

His hand shot out. He gripped my upper arm, his fingers digging into my skin. He pulled me up from the booth and dragged me toward the private exit.

He shoved me into the passenger seat of his sedan and slammed the door. He walked around, got behind the wheel, and gunned the engine. The car shot out into the rainy night.

He drove like a madman up toward the winding cliffside highway. The speedometer climbed.

"You belong to me, Leia," he bit out, glaring at the road. "You don't play games with cheap escorts. You don't embarrass me."

"You belong to Jaycee," I said. "On paper and in bed."

"Shut up!" he barked, hitting the steering wheel with his palm. "I told you that was to save her—"

His phone cut him off.

It buzzed loudly against the center console. The screen flashed: *Jaycee*.

Cole hit the speaker button. "Jaycee, what is it? I'm busy."

"Cole..." Jaycee's voice was thin and trembling through the speakers. A steady, electronic beeping sound came from her side. "The system... the system issued a penalty. My heart rate is one hundred and ninety. I can't breathe... the app says cardiac failure in ten minutes..."

Cole's face lost all its color.

The rage in his eyes vanished. It was replaced by instant panic. It was a trained reaction. She had conditioned him like a dog over the past two years.

"Hold on, Jaycee," Cole said frantically. His voice shook. "I'm coming. Don't close your eyes."

He slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop on the dark shoulder of the cliff road.

The ocean was hundreds of feet below us in the pitch-black fog. There were no streetlights. No guardrails. Just sharp wind and gravel.

Cole reached across me, shoved the passenger door open, and unbuckled my belt.

"Get out," he said.

I stared at him in disbelief. "Cole, we're on a cliff highway. It's midnight."

"Jaycee is dying, Leia!" he roared. He shoved me hard.

My purse slipped from my lap and fell under the dashboard. I tumbled out onto the wet dirt road. My palms hit the sharp stones, cutting my skin.

Cole didn't even look down at me. He yanked the passenger door shut.

The tires kicked up a spray of mud and gravel against my face as the sedan sped away into the darkness. Red taillights disappeared around the bend.

He left me with no car. No coat. No phone.

I stood up, shivering violently in the freezing ocean wind.

Then I heard gravel crunch behind me.

Two figures stepped out from the shadows near the tree line. They wore dark hoodies and heavy boots.

"Leia Sanders?" one of them asked.

My body went cold. "Who are you?"

They didn't answer. The taller man lunged forward. Before I could turn to run, two heavy hands shoved me hard in the chest.

My feet slipped off the edge.

The ground vanished beneath me. The dark ravine rushed up.

I screamed, throwing my arms out blindly. My fingers slammed into a thick, exposed pine root sticking out from the dirt wall.

The impact tore the skin off my palms. A fiery pain ripped through my shoulders as my body jerked to a dead stop, dangling over the drop.

Below me, sharp rocks jagged out of the black earth.

Above me, footsteps trotted away and a car engine rumbled to life down the road.

I gritted my teeth. Tears burned in my eyes, but I swallowed the sob in my throat. I used to race cars at two hundred miles an hour. I survived crashes that snapped steel. I was not going to die on this dirt cliff for Cole Pierce.

I kicked my heels into the wet earth. My knees scraped raw against the rough stone wall.

"One," I whispered to myself, pulling upward.

"Two."

Muscles burning, hands covered in blood and mud, I hooked one elbow over the edge. Then my leg.

I rolled onto the cold asphalt, panting hard. My dress was ripped to shreds. My hands were bloody pulp.

I lay there for a minute, looking up at the gray rain. Then I got to my feet.

I walked.

Three miles along the dark shoulder. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my bruised legs.

It was nearly four in the morning when the yellow neon sign of a remote gas station appeared through the fog.

The clerk inside gasped when he saw me. He handed me a towel, a bottle of water, and pointed to the dusty payphone mounted by the restroom.

I dialed Cole's private number from memory.

He didn't answer the first three times. On the fourth try, the line clicked open.

"What?" Cole snapped. His voice was tired and annoyed. "Who is this?"

"It's me," I said. My voice was completely flat.

Cole paused. He let out a heavy, irritated sigh. "Where are you? You should have just called a cab, Leia. You didn't need to throw a dramatic tantrum."

I listened to him, feeling nothing. Not anger. Not sorrow. Just empty stone.

"Jaycee survived the episode," Cole continued casually. "The doctors managed to stabilize her vitals. But my skin is burning up. My hives are flaring and my levels are spiking because you walked off. Take an Uber to Cedars-Sinai right now. I need your hand."

I held the plastic receiver in my bloody, trembling fingers.

"No," I said softly.

"What did you say?" Cole asked, his tone sharpening.

I hung up the phone.