Chapter 6 Are you Pregnant

Ethan Cole was rarely distracted. His ability to focus on a singular goal had helped him to transition from operating room to boardroom, building his billion-dollars company from scratch. But hours after he had taken Anna to the hospital and returned to his office, he was still thinking about how her eyes had flashed when she was defending her work.

"The design team's report, Dr. Cole." Clara placed another folder among the others that crowded his table with due to the afternoon's confrontation.

He nodded, but his attention drifted to the copy of her illustration in front of him, he couldn't help studying them. The detail was remarkable. It was not just anatomically correct, but somehow alive. She understood the heart's structure in a way most medical illustrators didn't.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching his company's new device demo on his computer screen. He knew he should be checking requirement documents for production expansion, not obsessing over an artist. But try as he might, the tension he'd seen in her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes nagged him. Something was troubling Annabelle Bennett and he needed to find out what it was. He needed to check up on her. He removed his suit jacket from the back of his chair as he dashed out.

Seated in her hospital room, Ethan stared at the background report on his tablet again. This time, he read the personal profile section. Annabelle Bennett graduated top of her class from university of Berkeley. The only child of renowned lawyer James Bennett, who recently died in a car accident. Mother is in a coma at Massachusetts General.

The pieces finally made sense. She was drowning in medical bills.

As he closed it, an uncomfortable feeling lodged in his chest. His mind began to work on possibilities. He wanted to help her, but he had to make it appear ordinary, without ulterior motives.

He thought of employing her to join his design team because if her work could be stolen by someone on his team, it means she is talented enough to be part of them. That leaves one to wonder why she had been rejected by publishers countless times. Still pondering, his phone rang and he saw his mother's caller ID flash on the screen but he ignored it. He took a sip from his tea cup, employing her is logical but a year's worth of her salary will not be enough to settle her bills.

He looked at Anna's still form and the steady rise and fall of her chest to assure himself she's breathing perfectly well even though the monitors would have sounded an alarm if anything was wrong. Her lashes fluttered before she opened her eyes.

"You're awake?"

She turned in the direction of the voice, her eyes widening on recognizing him. She tried to sit up but he stopped her.

"Lie still, you're still weak."

She looked around her, at the patient monitor, IV pole and bag connected to her left hand, realization settling in. She was in the hospital! And she had no clue as to what happened.

"You fainted," he said, as if he could read her mind. "Doctor said it's due to dehydration and exhaustion."

"I'm sorry for bothering you." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. She imagined he would see her as a nuisance. She had been troubling him since she showed up.

"You don't have to be. No one decides when and where they faint. I'm glad I could help." He couldn't tell her he knew the cause of her exhaustion. "I'll go let the doc know you're awake."

"Thank you."

He shut the door behind him and Anna closed her eyes again. She had been careless with her body since the accident, focusing on how to get money for her mother's treatment. The last thing she had was coffee and a few pieces of biscuits for breakfast the previous day, before she received the call. She had not gone home since then, either.

The sound of Ethan's footsteps had barely faded when the door burst open again. Anna turned, thinking it was the doctor, but instead, she found herself facing an elegant woman in her late fifties.

Her silver-streaked dark hair was styled into a chignon that emphasized her high cheekbones. She wore a cream-colored Chanel dress, the fabric flowing around her as she moved. Diamond studs shined from her ears, and her Louboutin heels made a soft click-clack noise against the floor as she walked.

Her eyes were the same steel gray as Ethan's. Only that her own did not have that soul-searching look Ethan's had.

"So it's true." Her eyes glanced swiftly around Anna's hospital room, lingering on the IV drip. "My son really did rush a woman to the hospital."

Anna's throat went dry. "I'm sorry, you're..."

"Margaret Cole." She moved closer, her Hermès scarf fluttering against her neck. "Ethan's mother. And you are?"

"Annabelle Bennett." Anna tried to sit straighter, painfully aware of her shabby appearance.

"I think there is a misunderstanding..."

"Is there?" Margaret's eyebrow rose. "My son, who has become completely uninterested in a woman since his sour breakup with Sophia, suddenly carries someone to the hospital himself instead of calling an ambulance or having his staff handle it?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you pregnant?"

"What? No!" Anna's eyes widened in horror. "I collapsed in his office during a business meeting."

"A business meeting." Margaret repeated, her tone suggesting she believed Anna couldn't come up with a more ridiculous excuse. "Really? So what was the meeting about? Which company do you work with?"

"I'm an artist." Anna replied with a sullen look. Now that Margaret put it that way, she also began to wonder why he would trouble himself to bring her to the hospital himself and even stay with her. Surely, he was a busy person who had more important things to do than wait on her.

"Dear, Ethan doesn't have 'business meetings' with women, least of all women like you."

Anna's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Mrs. Cole, I assure you..."

The door opened again, and Ethan stopped short at the scene before him. "Margaret."

"Darling." Margaret turned, flashing him a warm smile. "I was just trying to get acquainted with Annabelle."

"By interrogating her in a hospital bed?" His voice carried an edge Anna hadn't heard before.

She moved away from the bed as if Anna had suddenly become a forbidden object. "Well, you can't blame me. When Patricia called to say you rushed a woman to the hospital, I just wanted to confirm it with my eyes."

"I've told you to stop tailing me." He said in frustration and opened the door. "That will be all, Margaret."

Margaret's smile didn't waver. "We'll discuss this later." She patted Ethan on the back on her way out, and he stiffened at her touch.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving a thick silence. Anna twisted her hands in the hospital blanket. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be." Ethan moved to the window, his reflection fractured in the glass. "She's been pressing me to get married for years."

"To someone better than a starving artist, I guess."

"I'm surprised you don't rate yourself at all."

She shrugged, "My result says it all."

"I quite disagree." He countered. She gave him a look that said he could think whatever he wanted.

The doctor came in then. He examined her, said she still needed to rest more, and left.

"You should lie back and rest, doctor's order." Without a word, she slipped back under the sheet.

"Is there someone you'd like me to call? A friend who can maybe bring you a change of clothes?"

She opened her eyes briefly, nodded in the negative, and shut them again. If Ethan was shocked by this, he didn't show it. It only served to further fuel his determination to help her.

While Anna slept, Ethan paced at the window, his mind considering several options like a chess player analyzing his possible moves.

He prides himself on his sharp mind and problem-solving skills, seeing patterns others missed. He has to come up with a reasonable solution to the situation before him now.

He began to play the scenes in his mind: from the fierceness in her eyes when she had accused him of stealing her work and the way she stood her ground, to the talent that was obvious in every stroke of her illustration, such an impressive understanding of both the medical and artistic aspects of her work, to his mother's suspicions about her being pregnant for him and the increasing pressures to get married, (not that he cared about what his mother wanted, but he hated how she used that excuse to bother him,) back to Annabelle's mounting medical bills.

He stopped in his tracks as the solution became evident. He'd solved the problem with the same concentration skill that made him a billionaire before thirty.

A simple business arrangement that would solve both their problems. His lips curved slightly, she would have the money she needed, and he would have the peace of mind he needed.

He smiled to himself at the thought of what his mother's reaction to the news will be. He half-expected her to disapprove, but it wouldn't matter. The more he toyed with the idea in his mind, the more he liked it.

He didn't know if she would agree though. But given her situation, there's a ninety percent chance she'll take the offer.