Copyright 2007 Bianca D'Arc. All Rights Reserved. “What the hell is this?” Michael waved the paper in front of her face as she sat calmly behind her desk. “It’s my resignation.” “I can see that.” He threw the paper down in exasperation. “What I want to know is why? I thought you were happy here. Dammit, Leah, I can’t do this job without you.” Sighing, he sank into the guest chair in front of her efficient desk, slouching in an uncustomary pose of defeat. “I can’t accept this.” “Sir,” she began, but he stopped her words. “Don’t you think you’ve known me long enough to use my name—at least when we’re alone?” Leah folded her hands in front of her, a pained expression on her face. “All right. Michael.” She sighed. “Look, I really do enjoy working with you, but with recent developments, you don’t need me as much as you used to. I’m getting older and to be perfectly honest, I want to have a child before I’m too old to enjoy it. That’s why I want to leave the military. I want to have a family.” Her words stunned him. And angered him. “And just who did you want to father your child, Leah?” His voice was deadly and low. Leah seemed lost in her daydream though, her lovely eyes clouded over as she thought of something only she could see. She didn’t realize the danger that had crept into the room with her words. “I made an appointment at the fertility clinic for as soon as my final paperwork goes through.” That made him sit back. At least she hadn’t scheduled time with one of his brothers. She was highly-ranked enough she could request time with a Son of Amber on pretty short notice, though she wouldn’t be guaranteed who she might get. “But why quit? We still need you here, Leah, and many women work right up ‘til their eighth or ninth month.” She cleared her throat, seeming a little uncomfortable, shuffling items unnecessarily on her desk. “I wanted to avoid any possible conflict of interest.” Mike sensed a victory, but he didn’t quite understand it yet—at least he didn’t dare hope the odd thought he had might be true. “And just why would being pregnant create a conflict of interest?” “Look, Michael, I’ll come clean here. I respect you enough to give you the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it makes my last few days here.” She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with resignation, a becoming flush highlighting her high cheekbones. “When I made the clinic appointment, I requested…” She looked away, clearly flustered. “Damn, this is harder than I thought it would be, but you’ve a right to know.” “Tell me.” His voice was low, commanding. He was all Dom in that moment, and she responded. “When I made that appointment, I specifically requested your…um…semen be used for the implantation. I want you to father my baby. I admire your intellect, your decisive nature—all your abilities and attributes, really—and I couldn’t think of a better candidate to father my little boy.” Mike just watched her. She grew nervous under his stare, but he needed time to regroup. She’d just pulled the rug out from under him, but in the best possible way. He took a moment to consider his options. “I’m flattered,” he said finally. “And honored.” He lifted the resignation in his hands and quite deliberately tore it to shreds, placing them neatly on her desk. “I don’t accept this.” He enjoyed the dismay on her face as he stood and leaned over the desk, so close, he could smell her unique perfume. “I—” “Cancel the appointment.” His tone was soft, but the order in his words was clear. “If you want to have my child, I’ll give him to you personally. No other way, Leah. I’ve wanted you for the past two years. I’m not going to wait any longer.” As he spoke the words, he realized their absolute truth. * * * * |
