The Hong Kong trip was a logistical nightmare for Abby. The fifteen-hour flight was bad enough, but the subsequent jet lag, combined with the relentless, energy-draining demands of early pregnancy, made every step a Herculean effort. She wore a business-appropriate but loose-fitting silk blouse, hoping the fabric would hide the slight, almost imperceptible rounding of her lower abdomen.
Liam was an exhausting travel companion. He operated on zero sleep and high intensity, scheduling back-to-back meetings from dawn until midnight. He seemed entirely immune to the sensory assaults of travel: the smells of foreign food, the noise of bustling city streets, and the constant pressure of tight deadlines.
Abby, however, was struggling. The food odors in particular were a massive challenge. At a high-stakes dinner with their potential partners, she excused herself to the restroom five times, using the mirror to check her complexion and splash cold water on her face. Each trip was a narrow escape from humiliating sickness.
Liam finally noticed. During the main course, he caught her eye as she discreetly pushed a piece of seafood away.
"Abby, are you ill?" he asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the pleasant chatter of the table.
"No, Mr. Sterling. Just a minor sensitivity to this particular spice," she lied smoothly, forcing a steady smile. "I had something similar on the flight."
He did not look convinced.
Later, as they walked out of the restaurant and into the humid night, he pulled her aside, his hand resting briefly on the small of her back. The gesture was meant to be professional, but it sent a spark of awareness through her nerves.
"If you are sick, Abby, tell me. I am not running a charity, but I will not push an employee to the point of collapse." His voice carried an unexpected, almost paternal severity.
Abby was furious at her body for betraying her and at him for noticing.
"I assure you, sir, my performance is not compromised. I delivered the acquisition model flawlessly today. I am simply tired. I will take a rest day tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is a full day of meetings," he stated flatly.
"No, it isn't," Abby countered, finding a sudden, necessary edge of aggression. "I specifically blocked out three hours in the afternoon for independent research on regulatory impact. I will use that time for rest."
Liam paused, his face shadowed in the neon glow of the street. He was used to issuing commands, not negotiating his own schedule. The silence stretched between them, thick with an unspoken power struggle.
Finally, he gave a curt nod.
"Fine. Three hours. But you are to be reachable by phone. And if this fatigue impacts the final presentation, we will be having a different conversation when we get back to New York."
Abby knew she had won a small victory, but it came at the cost of heightened suspicion. She would have to be more careful. Every deviation from her flawless persona was a potential clue.
And Liam Sterling, the father of her secret child, was watching her more closely than ever.