Kayla
"If I was even considering this insane idea of yours," I said, my voice rising as I gestured to the papers, "how would the child even get here? Because as you can see, I'm not Mary. There’s no immaculate conception happening in this office."
Damien let out a low, dark laugh. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray hair out of my face. The touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. "Read," he said softly, pointing to a specific paragraph near the bottom of the page.
I scanned the lines. My eyes widened. "What?" I sputtered. "s****l intercourse thrice a week? What is the difference between me and a high-class prostitute at that point? Don't insult me, Mr. Blackwood!"
"It is a business arrangement, Kayla," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "If you don
