Atlas Storm has lost his mind.

There is no other explanation. Not one.

Who the hell just moves in with someone they don't know? Apparently my boss does.

"You're not moving in here," I say, sounding way harsher than usual. "You own a perfectly fine house, sir. One big enough for you to stay in together with your ego. I don't have the space for you here, and even if I did, I wouldn't let you stay."

"Why not?" he asks. Why not?! Why the hell would I?

"I dug up a few information about you," he tells me, leaning back on my sofa.

What is there to find out about me? Not once in my life have I signed up for any social media. I have not been active online at all, except for work. And my work doesn't include me signing up for anything with my real data. It's usually work data I'm using.

"Turns out, if one googles your name, there are a few articles about an incident that happened a couple of years ago."

"An incident?" My brows fall into a confused frown at the same time as I let my arms fall from my chest as well. "What incident are you talking about?"

"You tell me, Sierra. What happened to you?"

"Excuse me?" I seriously have no idea what he's referring to. As far as I'm concerned, there have never been any records about "the incident." There can't be any because I have never reported it in the first place. "Mr. Storm, if you came here to make fun of me or something, then I'd politely ask you to leave. I really can't deal with this tonight. Or ever."

"I'm not making fun of you, Sierra," he says and stands up, slowly making his way over to me.

The closer he gets, the faster my blood rushes through my veins. My breath quickens, and yet it feels like I can't breathe. "Please stop," I beg, feeling as my hands begin to shake.

Storm stands right in front of me, looking down. He doesn't touch me, but even although my eyes are closed, I can feel him close. Way too close. I can feel his breath roll over my skin, I can feel his torso close to mine, I can feel his eyes on my body.

And as I begin to feel tears dwell up, I want nothing more but to run out of my own apartment and get as far away as possible. "Why are you here, Mr. Storm?" I ask with a shaky voice. I'm pretty sure he can hear the anxiety within me through my words.

He ignores my question. "You're starting to show. People will ask questions. I won't let you tell everyone you wouldn't know who the father is, Sierra."

I still haven't opened my eyes. "Could you please take a step back?" I ask. He doesn't answer, doesn't ask why either. But I can hear him step away, giving me a little more space to breathe.

"I'm not going to ask you again about what happened. It's clear it had to be something traumatic if it makes you react the way you do," he speaks in a soft tone. The softest tone I've ever heard Storm speak in. "But I also won't continue to ask you to move in with me. We're in this together, Sierra. It's your body, with no doubt, but I want to be a part of all this."

I sigh. Just six weeks ago I told him I'd move in, being influenced by a dog. And now here I am, spending my Friday in my apartment, eating a pint of ice cream while crying to a horror movie.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you, Sierra," he speaks just when I open my eyes again, unintentionally locking them with his. "I'm well aware of appearing to be an asshole. I'm pretty sure I am, but I would never do anything to you. Especially not against your will. Sweetheart, you wouldn't have to share a room with me. Of course you will have your very own, including an en-suit bathroom. Please, just give me the chance to be there and make sure you are okay."

It appears he truly wants to experience all there is to pregnancies. It honestly reminds me a lot of Cody. He's done everything imaginable to be with Athena while she was pregnant, and he stayed afterwards.

Just that I know Storm wouldn't stay. He'd kick me out the second this child is born. Maybe he'd wait a week or two to seem less asshole-like.

"What would the people say?" I question, not him, but myself. "My co-workers. They'd laugh at me for dating our boss. Hell, they'd bully me for it."

Storm shakes his head. "They'd be too afraid to do that. They know you'd just have to say one word and they'd be fired."

"Mr. Storm, in case you didn't realise, I'm a really joyful person. I like talking to my co-workers. I love to make them laugh. But I doubt that's going to keep happening if they think I was dating you."

I see his hand twitch, like he's wanting to reach out for me, but he doesn't. A second after his hand lifts, it drops again.

"And the same will happen believing you've only got knocked up by me, Sierra. There's no win either way. But there is a chance to make it seem wanted." Perhaps there is.

-♡-

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

"Are you going back to work tomorrow?" Storm asks, leaning against the door frame to my bedroom.

Somewhere between moving into Storm's house and being pregnant, I found it incredibly difficult to go to work the past week. And somehow Storm appeared relived when I asked for a week off.

"You could stay home the rest of your pregnancy," is what he answered. Of course that is most definitely not going to happen. I can't stay home and live away my days. I'd get bored. So bored, I might start snooping around Storm's house.

This is my first official night in his house, and I'm not going to lie, I'm petrified. The second Storm leaves this room and closes the door, I will jump off this bed and lock the door. Probably even put a chair in front of it, just in case.

In case of what? I don't know, but I won't risk anything. Not anymore.

Storm has kept his distance from me those past two weeks. He didn't try to come close in any way. He always made sure to stay at least five feet away from me.

"I think so," I answer after a short moment of silence.

"I'm leaving at 6, so if you do decide to go, you should be done by then."

"At six?!" I blurt out faster than my brain could even comprehend his words. "That's usually when I get up. Not leave for work."

He shrugs, unbothered. "Well, it's a good thirty-minutes drive from Medina over to the office. Plus possible traffic. So if I want to be there by seven, I've got to leave at six."

I groan. "Can't you leave at seven and be there at eight?" I know work starts at seven, well, most of us are there at that time. But then again, we don't really have a specific time to be there.

All Storm put in our contracts was "8h a day," naming no start or end whatsoever.

Instead of answering my question like any normal person would, he says, "When's your next doctor's appointment?"

I pull my blanket up higher, feeling a bit too vulnerable in only my sleep wear. "Wednesday at 9:30 a.m," I answer. "I will be late for work."

"Happens." He shrugs. "Can I come with you?"

I have to pinch myself in order to figure out if I'm dreaming or not. Did he seriously just ask me that?

"I guess. It'll be boring, though," I warn. "It's a routine visit. Some tests and an ultrasound."

"Figured." That said, Storm starts to close the door. He doesn't even thank me for letting him tag along. Ungrateful, grumpy asshole.

Before the door closes, I rush a quick "Good night" out of my mouth. As much as I don't really want to be here, it's only polite to say it.

Of course I don't get one back. Would be too kind of Mr. Asshole to wish me a good night.

-♡-

I tried. I really tried to wake up at five to be ready by six. It did not work.

It's now six in the morning and I am just waking up.

Doesn't matter that I won't get a ride with my boss, I'll just call an Uber. It's the better option anyway. Carpooling to work with my boss? No thank you.

I quickly throw on a cute, short summer dress with tights and some white sneakers. It's September, so thin tights are needed to get through the day. Honestly, the summer dress is the best I can do. Anything too tight would definitely show off my bump. The one that looks like I'm bloated only. But still, I'd rather not have people question my belly yet.

Though, I guess an oversized hoodie would do the trick as well. Not today. I need something... cute, not lazy.

At 6:30, I start to remove the chair from my door and carefully unlock it to go downstairs.

Storm's bedroom door is closed. His bedroom is right across from mine, even though I've asked him to put me as far away from his as possible. Apparently, that's the farthest. I doubt it, but it's alright. I hope.

I contemplate to go say good morning to Taco, but I assume Storm put him in his room before he left. And I'm not quite sure I'd be able to get him back in there if Taco happens to run out. So I don't.

Sneaking around like I'm some thief, I make my way downstairs into the kitchen, being in desperate need for some donuts. I've been craving those for good two weeks now. It's annoying. I'm so sick of donuts, and yet it appears I can't get enough of them.

Though, I suppose donuts are better than some of those weird food combinations. Like ice cream and pickles. Or pickles in general.

Standing in front of the huge fridge, I almost start to cry. Not almost, I am crying.

This man has nothing but vegetables and greek yogurt at home. God, he's ridiculously rich and doesn't know what good food is. Just great.

Closing the fridge, I lean my back against it, slowly sliding down to the floor as I sob. How dare he invite a pregnant woman to live with him and then only have disgusting vegetables at home?

I love vegetables, actually. But not now. I need sugar. Preferably donuts. No, not preferably. I need donuts. If I don't get them soon, I might die.

"Why are you crying, Sierra?"

Why is my mind asking me stupid questions? And why does the voice in my head suddenly sound so... masculine? So deep and—

"I thought you'd be on your way to work," I speak through tears, wiping at my eyes to remove some. It's pointless, they just keep on coming.

"You need a ride." Storm comes into my view, or at least his feet do. And holy fuck, his shoes look expensive. Like everything else in his life does.

That makes me wonder; will our child be dressed in fancy designer clothes or will they wear the Target clothes I've bought?

"I wanted to call an Uber."

"I'm not letting you Uber to work, Sierra. You're driving with me. Every day. It doesn't matter that I'll be in later than usual." And why is that? He's used to being at work by seven.

"People are supposed to believe we're a couple. One that didn't just start to date, but has been in a relationship for years. Surely, if we were a couple of many years and live together, I wouldn't let you Uber to work," he adds.

I forgot all about... that. The fake-dating. The public that is supposed to believe the one thing that couldn't be any more false.

"No kissing in public," I say, stating an obvious rule. A rule that seems to make no sense the second I notice Storm rising his eyebrows.

"Okay, kissing at home then."

I get up to my feet and stalk over to him, pressing my chest to his body as I have to tilt my head back to look into his eyes.

As usual, his face gives nothing away. He's as solid as a rock. Doesn't once twitch a mouth-muscle. It's like Storm doesn't have the ability to smile.

Narrowing my eyes, I speak through gritted teeth. "No kissing. At all."

"I have a strict no boss-employee relationship policy."

"You should rethink that one. You got one of your employees pregnant," I talk back. Storm lightly sets his hands down on my waist, easing me a step back. Immediately, his hands leave my body again, like he knows I don't like to be touched.

Only now do I realise how close I am to Storm. Fear rushes through my body. It's like a switch. The second I realise he's not one of the two men I trust, I feel the anxiety radiate through me.

Taking a couple more steps back, my back is pressed against the fridge again.

"Our relationship has to look real, Sierra. Couples that are in love kiss each other."

I shake my head. "Doesn't have to be in public. Maybe they want to keep their relationship private."

He sighs and slightly cocks his head to the side. "We're not going to have some hardcore PDA shit going. But, you're pregnant. If you want people to believe that child was wanted and made from love, you'll have to accept kissing eventually."