Chapter 5 - Heavy Hands
Caleb’s voice broke the stunned silence like shattering glass.
"T-Tessa?" Caleb choked out, stepping around his bodyguard’s perimeter, his eyes wild with disbelief. "What... what is this? What's going on?"
Roman didn't remove his hand from Tessa’s stomach. He merely shifted his head, turning his gaze toward Caleb. The transition was terrifying. In a fraction of a second, the tender father vanished, replaced by the ruthless apex predator whose name kept district attorneys awake at night.
"Who is this?" Roman asked. He didn't speak to Caleb; he spoke to Tessa, as if Caleb were a stain on the carpet that needed identifying before being cleaned.
"Dr. Caleb Hughes," Tessa said smoothly. "My former fiancé. The one who told everyone I had a nervous breakdown when I left the hospital."
Roman’s left eyebrow rose slightly, the pale scar taut against his skin. "Ah. The boy who thought twenty pounds of my heir was fat."
Caleb’s knees visibly buckled. The color drained from his face until he looked like a corpse in a dinner jacket. "Your... your heir?"
"Six months," Tessa added, tilting her head with a look of innocent satisfaction. "I told you I was taking excellent care of myself, Caleb. But you were so focused on your trauma pavilion that you didn't look very closely."
"You're... you're pregnant?" Caleb stammered, his gaze dropping to her belly again, this time seeing the absolute truth of it. The swollen curve wasn't weight gain, wasn't depression, wasn't neglect. It was life. Healthy, undeniable, blooming life. And Roman Vale’s hand was claiming every square inch of it. "With... with *his* child?"
"Watch your tone," Roman’s voice dropped an octave, vibrating with lethal promise. He stepped half an inch forward, towering over Caleb by nearly half a foot, his broad frame blocking the light. "You touched her earlier."
Caleb flinched back, sweating profusely. "I—I didn't—we were just talking! I grabbed her elbow, that's all! Just a friendly—"
"You touched what belongs to me," Roman said, every syllable clipped and precise. "You laid hands on the mother of my son without her permission. Do you have any idea how many men have lost their hands for less?"
Julianne clutched Caleb’s arm, trembling so hard her diamond bracelet rattled against her wrist. "Mr. Vale, please, Caleb didn't know—"
"Shut up," Roman said without looking at her.
He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. But the sheer, monolithic menace in those two words caused Julianne to clamp her mouth shut, tears of sheer terror welling in her eyes.
"Tessa," Roman said, his focus returning entirely to her, his expression softening as if changing channels. "Are you tired?"
"A little," she admitted. Standing for thirty minutes in flat shoes while fending off an insecure ex-fiancé had taken its toll on her lower back. "And the food here looks tragic."
"Then we’re leaving," Roman said simply. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her firmly against his side, his touch both fiercely protective and endlessly gentle. "Marco."
The shaved-head bodyguard stepped forward instantly. "Yes, boss?"
"Dr. Hughes is no longer associated with St. Jude’s Hospital," Roman said casually, as if ordering a change in weather. "Revoke the Vale Foundation’s thirty-million-dollar endowment until the board removes him from the staff. And make sure the medical licensing board receives the files on his private billing practices."
Caleb gasped, clutching his chest. "What?! You can't do that! My father sits on that board!"
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"Your father," Roman said, turning slowly to look Caleb in the eyes, "owes my private bank twelve million dollars in unsecured real estate loans. By tomorrow morning, he won't even own his car. Let alone a hospital seat."
***
