The Boy Toy Read online

  He’d prepared these carefully and rehearsed them out loud in front of the mirror so felt confident in asking.

  “How soon will filming commence?”

  “Location scouting will take place soon, with actual filming starting about six weeks later, though our timelines are fluid and prone to change,” Allan said. “Will that be a problem?”

  “No, not at all.”

  So much for spending more time with Samira. It looked like their fledgling romance was destined to fail no matter how much he wished otherwise.

  “And how long will I be on set?”

  “We expect the filming of all episodes to wrap up within three months, giving us time to do extensive editing before it screens.”

  “Okay.” Rory nodded, trying to project enthusiasm when being holed up on a set in the middle of nowhere and forced to make small talk with crew for three months seemed like a life sentence. “Sounds good.”

  When he didn’t ask anything further, Sherman said, “Great. Ready to read for us?”

  “Absolutely.”

  This, he could do. Relieved he’d got through the first part of the audition fairly unscathed, he strode onto the stage and faced the cue machine.

  “Ready?” Allan asked, and when Rory nodded, he hit a button that started the cues rolling.

  He’d done this very thing with Pia in her office, reading off giant cards, so he soon slipped into the role, injecting the right inflections into his voice, controlling his breathing, allowing the words to free flow without halting.

  He had no idea how long he read for, but every time he glanced at the men, they appeared to be leaning forward, wearing matching approving expressions, so he took it as a good sign.

  When the cues rolled to an end, he exhaled softly, surprised at how relaxed he felt. The tension had left his spine, and the slight viselike pain at the base of his skull had vanished.

  Applause rang out and both men stood.

  “That was great, Rory,” Sherman called out, and Allan added, “Impressive.”

  “Thanks,” he said, stepping off the stage and heading toward them.

  “We’re making a decision shortly, so you’ll hear from Chris later today.”

  “Great.” He shook their hands. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again,” Sherman said, and Rory wondered if he imagined the meaningful glance the two men exchanged before he headed for the door.

  He had a good feeling about this, but he wouldn’t be counting his dollars until he got the call from Chris.

  Until then, he needed a distraction.

  He knew just the person to provide it.

  Twenty-Five

  After lunch with her mom, Samira headed back to the health center. She had a stack of patient files to catch up on. Her most loathed task, usually; she’d much rather be treating patients than writing about them. But the monotony of it would be a welcome distraction after the chat with her mom. She really hoped she’d finally got through to Kushi, but she doubted it. Her mom may profess to understand, but she’d seen the gleam in her eyes after she’d hugged Manish goodbye.

  Kushi wouldn’t give up easily.

  She’d been this way with Avi too. Despite her initial protests, her mom kept instigating meetings, and Samira had let his charm get to her a little. That had been all the encouragement Kushi needed, and before she knew it, they’d been dating.

  Never again.

  Her stomach gurgled, and she pressed a hand to it. She’d been feeling a tad off lately, plagued by intermittent nausea and wooziness, worse than her usual hormonal swings. She hoped she hadn’t picked up a gastro bug of some sort; if it didn’t let up, she’d have to see the practice’s doctor.

  “Knock, knock, got a minute?” Pia rapped on her door and stuck her head around it, and Samira beckoned her in.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  The moment Pia stepped into her office and closed the door, Samira knew this wasn’t about work. Her cousin’s somber expression and rigid posture sent a skitter of fear through her and had her shooting to her feet.

  “Are you okay?”

  Pia nodded and managed a wan smile. “I’m fine, but I have to tell you something.”

  A million awful scenarios flashed through her mind in a second: Dev had a terminal illness, Aunt Sindhu had been in a car accident, her mom had fallen . . . The thought of Kushi gave her a quick wake-up call. This was exactly the kind of thing her mom would do, envisage the worst, predicting the direst consequences without hearing what the other person had to say.

  “Come sit.” Samira pulled up a plinth, and they sat side by side like they used to on the bench outside Dosa Villas as kids, waiting to be picked up after stuffing as many idlis as they could fit into their stomachs after school. She’d never really liked the steamed rice cakes, but Pia had loved them. “What’s up?”

  “You know how I mentioned our last IVF attempt had failed and we’d wait awhile before trying again?”

  Relief filtered through her. Nobody was dying, but by the worry in Pia’s eyes, she knew the seriousness of not being able to conceive was just as devastating.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I convinced Dev to try again, so our next IVF attempt is scheduled for late next month, but I want to take some time off beforehand to try alternative therapies to enhance our chances.”

  “And you want me to step up and manage this place while you’re away?”

  Pia nodded and reached out to grab her hand. “I know it’s a big ask when you’re so busy, but I really need to do this.”

  “Of course I’ll do it.” Samira squeezed her hand, wishing she could make this whole process easier on her cousin. “So what kind of alternative therapies?”

  A sheepish expression replaced Pia’s gravity. “It’s a wellness retreat for infertile couples, focusing on preparing the body for pregnancy, so they do hypnotherapy, acupuncture, reflexology, meditation, massage, mindfulness . . . crystals.”

  Samira barked out a laugh. “I know you trying to conceive isn’t funny, but crystals?”

  Pia laughed too. “I know, the science-trained logical person in me can’t believe I’m hoping crystals have electromagnetic charges that encourage a body’s processes and therefore help conception, but hey, at this point I’ll try anything.”

  “You know I’ll support you through this.” Samira leaned forward to give Pia a hug, and as she did so, the room spun, the edges of her vision darkened, and the weirdest floating feeling washed over her.

  The next thing she knew, she had Pia and the practice’s doctor, Kate Beck, leaning over her as she lay on the floor.

  “What happened?” She struggled into a sitting position and blinked several times to clear the fuzziness clouding her head.

  “You fainted.” Pia slid a supportive arm around her shoulders. “And scared the living daylights out of me.”

  “Is this a common occurrence?” Kate took her pulse and glanced at her watch, counting the appropriate beats.

  “No, but I get crazy hormonal swings that can lead to vomiting, dizziness, that kind of thing. And it’s been worse than usual the last few weeks. Or it could be a virus?”

  “Possibly,” Kate said, releasing her wrist. “But if you think your hormones are haywire, and worse than usual, let’s do a few simple blood tests to make sure you’re okay.”

  If there was one thing Samira hated more than her mother’s matchmaking, it was needles, but she nodded.

  “Come through to my office now, and I’ll get it done.”

  As Kate left the room, Pia continued to eye her with concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Samira stood slowly, determined to hide from her cousin exactly how wobbly she still felt. Pia had enough to deal with at the moment. “It probably is some stupid virus.
You know I always catch something when I come back to Melbourne.”

  Considering she’d only been back once in twelve years, it was lame, but thankfully, Pia didn’t push it.

  “If you’re unwell, maybe now isn’t the best time for me to be taking leave—”

  “Stop right there.” Samira held up her hand. “You and Dev have been trying everything to have a baby, and the fact you’re resorting to putting crystals on your chakras or wherever else you’ll stick those things means this is important.”

  Pia barked out a laugh, and Samira patted her arm. “I’ll be fine.”

  Pia’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, you’re the best. And for the record, I won’t be sticking crystals anywhere they’re not supposed to go.”

  They laughed and headed down the corridor to Kate’s office, Samira’s legs feeling decidedly wonky.

  “Take it easy, okay?” Pia pecked her on the cheek and Samira nodded.

  “Go. Organize your bookings for when you’re away, and get ready to do handover to me for all the managerial stuff.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best,” Pia said as she strode away on those impossibly high heels she wore even at work.

  Samira didn’t feel the best as she entered Kate’s office, and the first thing the doctor handed her was a pregnancy test.

  “Before we draw blood, I’d like you to do this.”

  Samira’s loud guffaw earned a raised eyebrow from the unflappable doc.

  “I can’t be pregnant. I have oligomenorrhea.”

  Not to mention the more salient fact of an infrequent sex life.

  Apart from those memorable interludes with Rory, but they’d used a condom.

  That had broken the last time they’d been together.

  Laughter bubbled up again, and this time Kate frowned.

  In what alternate universe could a woman who had three periods a year, if that, have sex, the condom breaks, and that actually results in a pregnancy?

  No way, no how.

  “When was your last period?” Kate brandished the pregnancy test in her direction, and Samira took it.

  “I can’t remember.” She screwed up her eyes, trying to think. “I don’t mark them on a calendar anymore because they’re too infrequent . . . Before I arrived in Melbourne . . . Maybe ten weeks ago?”

  “And have you had unprotected sex?”

  “No.” Samira bristled at the insinuation she’d be so careless and resisted the urge to squirm under Kate’s probing stare. “Though I have had sex during that time and the condom broke once, though it was only two weeks ago.”

  “That could do it.” Kate’s stern expression eased, and her mouth twitched with amusement. “And the more sensitive tests we perform can actually confirm a pregnancy eight days after conception, so why don’t you tell me about these hormone swings and the resultant symptoms.”

  Reeling from the implications and signs that could indeed add up to a pregnancy, Samira said, “Nausea, mainly. I puked once almost four weeks ago, but I get that occasionally due to hormone imbalance, and that was before the condom broke. Wooziness mostly, and feeling blah, but at random times with no real pattern.”

  Kate picked up a pen and started jotting notes in a file. “Are your breasts tender?”

  “No.”

  “Any spotting?”

  “No.”

  “Any other odd symptoms?”

  Samira shook her head, increasingly relieved. She couldn’t be pregnant. It would be too incongruous. “Nothing at all. I’m usually pretty healthy apart from the hormone stuff, so this has to be a virus, right?”

  Kate’s benign smile did little to reassure her. “Please take the test, then we can talk more.”

  “Okay.” She refrained from adding, But this is the biggest waste of time ever.

  Her heart tripped with nerves as she entered the small bathroom next to Kate’s office and locked the door. She stared at the rectangular box for a few long moments before tearing it open, unwrapping the foil, and grabbing the white plastic stick.

  The instructions on the box were simple enough. Pee on the stick. Wait two minutes. Check the window.

  However, as she stared at that little window one hundred and twenty significant seconds later, she knew there was nothing simple about this.

  Numbness flooded her, quickly followed by shock, fear, and elation.

  Two blue lines.

  At thirty-seven, without a regular period, a regular man, or regular sex, she’d fallen pregnant.

  Twenty-Six

  Rory tried calling Samira, but her phone rang out, so he left a message. He didn’t want to head home and sit by the phone waiting for a call from Chris like some sad sack, so on impulse he drove toward South Wharf.

  He could thank Pia in person and give her a rundown of how the audition went. Crazy, because she probably had patients booked and he could convey his gratitude just as easily on the phone. But he really wanted to see Samira, and even if he had to loiter in the waiting room, he’d do it.

  He reached the center in ten minutes and had parked when the phone rang. His heart leaped in anticipation, and he didn’t know who he wanted to be on the other end more, Chris or Samira.

  One glance at the screen had his hand shaking as he hit the “answer” button.

  “Chris. How are you?”

  “I’m bloody fantastic, considering I get a cut of your earnings as the host for Renegades.”

  Shock rendered him speechless for a moment. “I got the gig?”

  “You sure did, mate. You blew them away at the audition, and they’re rapt to have you on board.”

  “Fuck,” he murmured, joy expanding in his chest until he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe it.”

  Chris chuckled. “I knew you could do it. Anyway, go celebrate, and I’ll be in touch once I have more information.”

  “Thanks, Chris, for everything.”

  “You’re the one who did this, mate. I just made a few calls to set everything up. Well done.”

  When Chris hung up, Rory stared at the phone in his hand, wondering if he’d conjured up the call out of wishful thinking.

  He got the job.

  He could give Amelia the money she needed to kick-start the speech therapy program.

  He could help those kids.

  He felt freaking invincible.

  Chris had been right about one thing. He had to celebrate. He hoped he could convince Samira to skive off work, because they had some serious partying to do, one-on-one.

  He had no recollection of the five-minute walk to the center— because he’d probably floated there—and as he entered, he strode toward Samira’s office, relieved to spot her door open and the woman he wanted to see tidying exercise equipment.

  “Samira,” he called out, unable to keep the grin off his face as he entered her office.

  She looked a little pale, but he saw the exact moment she figured out why he was grinning like an idiot who’d just won the lottery.

  “You nailed the audition?”

  He nodded. “I got the job. You’re looking at the host of Australia’s newest up-and-coming reality show.”

  “That’s great.” She enveloped him in a hug, squeezing so tight he laughed.

  “Want to help me celebrate?”

  She hesitated, as something furtive shifted in her gaze. “What did you have in mind?”

  “What do you think?”

  He rested his hand on her waist, before sliding it around to her gorgeous ass in a slow caress.

  Her eyes widened, and her lips curved into a coy smile. “Hmm . . . I’ve got a lot of patient files to complete—”

  “I want you, now,” he murmured, giving her ass a gentle squeeze. “I’m so damn happy I could burst, and I want to share that with you.”

  “Okay,” she
said, pressing her hand to his cheek. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Make it one.” He swooped in to claim her mouth in a scorching kiss that had him hard and craving her more than ever.

  He’d made the right decision in coming here.

  A sizzling celebration for two would make this day even more memorable.

  * * *

  * * *

  Samira had been so shocked to see Rory not long after learning the momentous news of her pregnancy that she couldn’t think up an excuse fast enough to fob him off. Not that she wanted to, but she needed time to absorb the news that still left her reeling twenty minutes later and had envisaged slinking off to her apartment to sit on the sofa and dwell.

  She couldn’t tell him, not yet. Maybe sneaking off for some afternoon delight would be just what she needed to take her mind off it and the million questions pinging around her brain.

  She hadn’t been taking prenatal vitamins. Would that damage her baby?

  She’d been drinking alcohol and eating soft cheeses and deli meats. Would that harm her baby?

  Would she need to screen for fetal abnormalities sooner rather than later because of her age?

  Would her baby be damaged because she’d been so clueless about all of the above?

  Interesting, that she was already referring to the baby as “hers” and not “the baby.” Because despite all the questions and the shock and her bone-deep fear, she was ecstatic about this pregnancy.

  She’d never imagined having a child. Being a reproductively challenged, single thirty-seven-year-old didn’t inspire her with confidence, and she’d secretly given up on her dream of ever conceiving.

  During her marriage, she’d had an inordinate amount of sex, because procreating had been so important to Avi. He’d wanted to create his own people to show the world how damn powerful he was, and when she’d failed, he’d gone elsewhere for his baby making.

  So in what crazy world did she have sex with a guy a decade younger than her a handful of times and make a baby?

  “You’re distracted,” he said, trailing a finger down her naked torso, from her breasts to her belly button. “Hope I didn’t disappoint.”