didn’t have time to get pregnant, not with the kind of demands he made on her. He kept her working hard—too hard, really. He knew that. He also paid her damn well. And he tried to remember to cut her a little slack now and then. Like this last weekend, when he’d let her off the hook for the trip back east, leaving instructions for her to take three days off.
He poured another cup of coffee.
Re the pregnancy angle—on the other hand, why not? How much opportunity did it take, anyway? One encounter could do it. If she hadn’t been careful.
Not careful? Celia?
Hard to believe. She was such a model of efficiency. He couldn’t see her not being careful, couldn’t imagine her slipping up on something so basic as birth control.
But then, he could hardly imagine Celia having sex, let alone dealing with what method of contraception to use. He just didn’t think sex when he thought of Celia.
Well, and why the hell should he? She was his secretary. And her sex life was her business.
However, accidents did happen. And if she now had a baby on the way…
Well, if she did, okay. It should be manageable.
He’d be willing to deal with a kid in the picture. They could work around it, if she wanted to stay with him. It might be tough. There’d be some serious inconveniences for both of them. But his mother had done it; raising three sons and running the Highgrade all on her own after his father, the notorious Blake Bravo, had supposedly died.
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