The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 182

***Violet***

“This is ridiculous.”

Camille sat cross-legged on the closed bathroom lid looking way too calm for somebody currently accusing me of potentially creating life in the middle of a federal corruption investigation.

Meanwhile I was emotionally fighting for my life.

“You literally threw up twice today,” Camille pointed out.

“Because I’m stressed.”

“You almost cried because Rowan cut your sandwich diagonally.”

“That was emotional support sandwich behavior and you know it.”

Camille snorted loudly.

I glared at her while aggressively opening the pregnancy test box like personally offending the cardboard would somehow change reality.

“I am not pregnant.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh my God stop mhm-ing me.”

Camille held both hands up innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re literally judging me with your eyeballs.”

“That’s because I know you.”

I scoffed dramatically before sitting down on the toilet while pointing the test toward her accusingly. “This is happening solely so I can prove you wrong.”

Camille grinned immediately. “Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“Totally.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

I looked back down at the stupid test in my hand while my stomach twisted nervously again.

No. Nope. Absolutely not. There was literally no way.

I mean… Okay maybe technically there was a way.

But not realistically.

Right?

I frowned harder while trying to mentally count. “…We only had sex like four or five times.”

Camille blinked once. Then slowly, “Violet.”

“What?”

“FOUR OR FIVE TIMES?”

I shrugged weakly. “I lost count.”

Camille stared at me in complete disbelief. “Girl.”

“What?”

“When did you even have time for that?”

I rubbed tiredly at my forehead. “Okay maybe six.”

Camille slapped a hand dramatically over her chest. “Jesus Christ.”

“I was going through a lot emotionally.”

“You coped sexually?”

“I coped successfully.”

Camille started laughing so hard she nearly fell sideways off the toilet lid.

I pointed toward her aggressively. “You are not allowed to laugh at me during this traumatic experience.”

“You said successfully.”

“Because I’m hilarious.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

Camille just gave me a look.

I rolled my eyes dramatically before finally muttering, “There’s no way.”

Then Camille asked the question. The horrible question. “So what were you using?”

I blinked once. “What?”

“Protection,” Camille clarified slowly. “Condoms? Birth control? Literally anything?”

And suddenly… Silence.

Oh no.

Camille’s expression slowly changed. “Oh my God.”

I stared at the wall. Nope. Absolutely not.

Because now my brain was replaying every single time Rowan had touched me over the last month and suddenly I was realizing something deeply important.

We were both idiots.

Complete idiots.

Camille stared at me harder. “Violet.”

“I was busy.”

“With what? Unprotected emotional healing?”

“That is not fair.”

“Did he use condoms?”

I stayed silent.

Camille’s jaw dropped. “VIOLET.”

I pointed weakly toward her. “Okay but in my defense, there was a lot happening emotionally.”

“You let a billionaire raw dog you during a murder conspiracy.”

“When you say it like that it sounds irresponsible.”

“Because IT IS.”

I groaned loudly before dropping my face into my hands. No.

No no no no no.

This was impossible.

Right?

My mom’s voice suddenly echoed violently inside my brain.

*It only takes once.*

Oh God.

I slowly looked up.

Camille saw the panic hit my face instantly. “There it is,” she whispered dramatically.

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God you’re panicking now.”

“I am NOT panicking.”

“You’re pale.”

“I’m always pale.”

“You look spiritually pale.”

I stared down at the pregnancy test sitting in my hands now like it personally ruined my entire life. Or maybe changed it. Which somehow felt scarier.

My stomach flipped nervously again.

Camille slowly reached over and grabbed my wrist gently. “Hey.”

I looked up.

Her expression softened immediately. “If it is positive…” She squeezed my hand once. “You’re not alone.”

“Okay,” I said suddenly.

Camille blinked once. “Okay what?”

“You need to get out.”

Her eyebrows shot up immediately. “Excuse me?”

I held up the pregnancy test awkwardly. “I am not peeing on this thing while you’re sitting three feet away making eye contact with me.”

Camille gasped dramatically. “I would never make eye contact during a vulnerable urination moment.”

“You absolutely would.”

“That is slander.”

I pointed toward the stall door. “Out.”

Camille sighed like I was deeply inconveniencing her before slowly standing up. “Fine. But just know I was prepared to emotionally support you through the stream.”

“I’m going to fight you.”

“You’re already hormonal.”

“Oh my God GET OUT.”

Camille cackled loudly while finally stepping out of the stall. “Tell my future niece or nephew I love them!”

“I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t!”

I waited until the stall door shut before staring down at the pregnancy test in my hand.

Nope. Still ridiculous. Still impossible.

Still absolutely not happening.

Right?

…Right?

I exhaled slowly before muttering, “If this thing says positive I’m throwing myself into Elliott Bay.”

Then finally did the test.

A few minutes later, I stepped out of the stall holding the stupid little plastic stick like it was a live grenade.

Camille immediately straightened. “Well?”

“I don’t know yet, psycho. It takes a minute.”

Together we stared down at the test sitting on the bathroom counter in complete silence. This felt more stressful than the FBI investigation.

Camille leaned against the counter beside me while crossing her arms loosely.

“You know,” she said casually, “I really want a little girl.”

I blinked once while still staring at the test. “What?”

“A daughter.” Camille smiled softly. “I already picked out names.”

That dragged my attention away from the test slightly.

“You did?”

“Mhm.” Her expression softened even more. “Mae Isabella Ashcroft.”

My chest melted a little. “That’s actually really pretty.”

“I know,” she sighed dreamily. “It sounds expensive."

I leaned tiredly against the counter beside her while we both continued staring at the test like it personally owed us money.

Camille huffed softly. “If Theo ever fucking proposes, anyway.”

I snorted despite myself. “He hasn’t asked yet?”

Camille slowly turned toward me with the most offended expression I had ever seen in my life.

“NO.”

“Oh my God.”

“I am literally carrying his child while federal agents swarm the building and this man still hasn’t proposed.” Camille pointed dramatically toward the ceiling like Theo could somehow hear us through several floors. “I gave this man emotional support, orgasms, and a legacy heir.”

I choked laughing immediately.

“And what do I have to show for it?” Camille continued. “Trauma and swollen ankles.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m pregnant. It’s medically required.”

Camille sighed before leaning against the counter beside me. “At this point I’m tempted to just drag him to the courthouse and get married like you and Rowan did.”

That made me smile slightly.

The courthouse wedding still felt surreal honestly.

Not bad surreal.

Just… emotionally chaotic.

Very us.

Camille glanced sideways toward me carefully. “Do you regret it?”

The question caught me off guard immediately.

My fingers tightened slightly against the bathroom counter. “No,” I admitted quietly.

Not even a little.

Actually… Marrying Rowan Ashcroft might’ve been the only thing in my life that ever felt completely right.

Camille smiled softly like she already knew that answer before I even said it.

Then suddenly her eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

My stomach dropped instantly. “What?”

Camille slowly pointed toward the counter.

I looked down at the pregnancy test.

And my entire world stopped.