Page 127 of A King’s Obsession

A MONTH LATER

If somebody had told me six months ago that I'd be walking around almost seven months pregnant, arguing with a forty-one-year-old billionaire through text messages, I would've told them to get the fuck out of my face.

Yet, here I was.

My phone vibrated against the passenger seat for the third time since I'd left work. I didn't even have to look to know who it was. Ezra King had apparently decided that unblocking his number meant I'd signed up for daily interrogations.

Ezra: You good?

I sighed, stopping at a red light before picking up my phone.

Me: Yes.

Ezra: My baby good?

Me: Yes, Ezra.

Ezra: You eat today?

Me: Goodbye.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Ezra: Love you too, wife.

“Nigga, please.” I tossed my phone back onto the seat, fighting the smile threatening to spread across my face.

It had been a month since the hospital. A month since Ezra revealed that the marriage I'd spent months believing belonged to another woman was actually mine. He'd been trying to get me to sit down with him ever since, but I wasn't ready.

I'd finally unblocked him two weeks ago, mostly because I was tired of him calling Ashlynn and Malachi every time he wanted to know whether I was okay. I answered his messages when I felt like it, kept our conversations about the baby, and ignored every invitation to come back to Westhaven.

I wasn't trying to punish him. I just needed to figure out what I wanted without him standing over me trying to make the decision for me.

Besides, I had enough going on. Between work, doctor's appointments, and my weekly trips to Westhaven to see Ashlynn and the twins, I barely had time to sit down. The babies were growing like weeds, and watching Malachi attempt to change two diapers at once had become my favorite form of entertainment.

Ashlynn and I were finding our way back to each other. Things weren't exactly how they'd been before, but we were laughing again, talking every day, and slowly rebuilding the trust we'd lost. That meant more to me than she probably realized.

As for Ezra? That was a whole different situation.

I pulled into the medical building's parking lot, grabbed my purse, and carefully climbed out of the car. My stomach seemed to get bigger every time I looked down, and lately, bending over had become a full-body workout.

“Baby, you better be worth all this,” I muttered, rubbing my stomach as I headed inside.

The elevator carried me to the third floor, and I was halfway down the hallway when I heard a voice I knew entirely too well.

“Damn. Look at my baby.”

I stopped walking, slowly turning my head toward the waiting area. Ezra King was sitting there like he had a standing appointment, dressed in a fitted black shirt, dark jeans, and a diamond watch that caught the light when he stood. His haircut was fresh, his beard was lined perfectly, and that same cocky-ass smile was already working my nerves.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded, tightening my grip on my purse as he approached me.

“Damn, baby. No hug? No kiss? Nothing?” His eyes traveled over me, lingering on my stomach before returning to my face. He looked genuinely pleased with himself, which only made me more irritated.

“Ezra, I'm not playing with you.” I lowered my voice when the receptionist glanced in our direction. “How did you even know I had an appointment today?”

He slipped a hand into his pocket, looking entirely too comfortable. “I got my ways.”

“Your ways better not involve somebody giving you my medical information, because I swear to God—”