His Ring Her Rules

Bad days don't simply show up like well-mannered houseguests, let me tell you. Instead, they storm in, spill mud on your floor, and topple your favorite mug as they leave.

I was experiencing that type of day.

I left Ethan Blackwood's office feeling as though I had entered a boardroom battle unarmed and emerged with only my pride, hardly intact, after he pretended not to recognize me—me, Grace Carter, the woman he had spent the night with and who is currently carrying his awkward little heir.

However, fate had not finished yet.

My phone buzzed the following morning as I was waiting in line for a greasy egg sandwich at the corner café, still debating whether or not I should have hurled my medical report at his arrogant face. Then it buzzed once more. And once more.

I looked down.

My best friend Zoe sent me three texts.

GRACE, OMG

Do you have access to the Daily Scoop?

You've made it to the first page!

I felt sick to my stomach.

With my heart pounding, I stuffed my phone into my purse and picked up a copy of the paper that was lying next to the coffee counter.

It was there.

A glossy, full-color photo of me looking like hellfire in heels as I bounded out of Blackwood Enterprises.

The headline?

"The Scandal of the Billionaire's Baby?"

A mysterious woman named Grace Carter is seen leaving Ethan Blackwood's office in obvious distress. She is reportedly pregnant. Might this be the CEO's covert child?

Even a second picture was present. A grainy one from the gala night, with Ethan and I dancing too close together and our faces inches apart as if everything had melted away.

The picture made me blink. My cheeks became red.

I had no idea who had taken that photo.

I hurried home, forgot my sandwich, slammed the door behind me, and fell onto the couch with the tabloid in my hand like a radioactive object.

I knew Ethan Blackwood was adored by the press. The man was single, broody as hell, and wealthier than sin. A threefold danger to gossip columns. However, I never would have thought that I would be the main character in his PR nightmare.

My phone rang. I grabbed it.

Zoe did not wait for me to greet her.

"Girl. You've started a riot on the internet.

"I took no action!"

The internet, however, doesn't agree. It is being devoured by Twitter. Trending hashtags include #BabyBlackwood and #CEOScandal. Merchandise was already made.

"Stock?!"

"You're kind of famous, Grace."

My head fell into my hands. All I wanted to do was speak with him. One adult discussion.

"Instead, you received a national headline."

Someone knocked on my door.

I nearly choked when I peered through the peephole.

Outside stood a man wearing a sleek black suit, complete with earpiece. A black car with tinted windows waited behind him.

He knocked once more. "Miss Carter? Mr. Blackwood asks you to come. Right away.

He remembers me now, I see.

I opened the door and straightened my back.

With all the resentment I could muster, I said, "Tell Mr. Blackwood that I don't answer summons." He can give me a call if he wants to talk. Or compose a letter of apology. Or, like any other human being, descend from his ivory tower and grovel.

The man blinked. "Madam?"

I went back inside and added, "I have tea steeping as well." Thus. No.

I closed the door.

Rule #7: Don't make it easy for a billionaire who is trying to improve his reputation by cleaning up.You don't make it easy for him.

Because Grace Carter? I may be pregnant, but I'm not powerless.