Pregnant by the Doctor: A Forbidden Romance (Forbidden Fantasies Book 10) Read online

  Pregnant By The Doctor

  A Forbidden Romance

  S.E. Law

  Copyright © 2020 by S.E. Law

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by S.E. Law

  Forbidden Fantasies

  My Fiance’s Dad

  Trailer Park Daddy

  While He Watches

  Her Secret Baby

  The Clients

  Hunger

  My Dad’s Best Friend

  My Best Friend’s Dad

  Trapped By My Boss

  Pregnant By The Doctor

  Pregnant By The Alpha

  Sweet Treats

  His Candy Cane

  Her Juicy Cherry

  Her Honey Pot

  Second Helpings

  Sugar Walls

  Please and Tease

  Forbidden Fruit

  Band of Brothers

  Her Italian Wedding

  Double XL

  The Boyfriend Diaries

  The Boyfriend Diaries

  Mommy’s Ex

  Mommy’s Boss

  Mommy’s Landlord

  Daddy’s Christmas Gift

  Daddy’s Holiday Baby

  Daddy’s Love Child

  Made for Them

  Built For Them

  Sugar and Spice

  The Naughty Party

  Blackmail Fantasies

  Blackmailing My Dad’s Best Friend

  Blackmailed By My Dad’s Boss

  Blackmailed In The Boudoir

  Blackmailed By My Teacher

  Irresistible Bachelors

  Sweet as Candy

  Must Be Love

  Meant To Be

  Standalones

  You’re Mine

  Boss of My Panties

  Naughty Relations

  About My Daddies

  About Last Night

  About This Morning

  About That Evening

  Playing with Them

  Playing with the Doctors

  Playing with the Criminals

  Playing with her Priests

  Healing Hands

  Dr. Feelgood

  Dr. Man Candy

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  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Trapped By My Boss

  Sneak Peek: My Best Friend’s Dad

  About the Author

  About This Book

  I went to the hospital for some tests.

  But now I’m taking a pregnancy test!

  Olivia: We met when I thought I was sick. I went to the ER, only to be treated by a gorgeous MD. One thing turned into another, and soon, we were being naughty in the exam room. What I didn’t expect? To get pregnant from my steamy encounter with the doctor.

  Randall: I am a totally amoral asshole who deserves to have my medical license revoked. However, Olivia was just too tempting. The curvy girl was sweet, sassy, funny and utterly irresistible in that flimsy paper gown that barely hid her luscious assets. The problem? Now, she has my baby in her belly … and she and the child are mine.

  He’s a bad boy physician and she’s the curvy girl who’s going to set him straight. Put on your seatbelt because in this tale of naughty fun, our heroine gets pregnant when she least expects it. Will Randall lose it when he discovers she’s had his baby in secret? Or will they go their separate ways, never to be a family? It’s a sexy, on-your-toes romance that will make you swoon! No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

  1

  Olivia

  For the umpteenth time today, I sneeze.

  The sound of my small squeal and subtle achoo! earns me glares and hard stares from my coworkers, who are all on edge since the emergence of the novel coronavirus. Some even stick their heads out of their offices and cubicles to peer at me, the twenty-five-year-old woman who’s probably spreading the virus with her small sneezes. Despite the mask concealing my nose and mouth to prevent the spread of the virus, the dirty looks that are hurled my way send a shudder down my spine and I hurriedly refocus on my work at my desk.

  I dig my feet into the carpet beneath me, the plush blue fibers molding to the bottoms of my black high heels. I try to focus on the case file in front of me, but I can practically feel the angry, unrelenting glares from my coworkers at Disdale Trout. Despite being at this law firm as a paralegal for a handful of years and getting along decently with everyone, this pandemic has everyone paranoid and anxiously eyeing one another for symptoms.

  I sigh, glancing at the clock on my wooden desk. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning, meaning I have seven hours left until I can go home, snuggle with my cats on the couch, and watch the latest art history documentary about the Palace of Versailles in France. Time couldn’t go by fast enough.

  While being a paralegal at Disdale Trout is okay, this career wasn’t what I had in mind when I started at the University of Maine. Art has always been my primary outlet to release the stress, anger, and frustration that any teenager endures, and it evolved into a BA in Fine Arts for me. What was once a hobby quickly became my passion when given free rein, and art is my escape when life gets tough.

  Legal work is definitely not what my heart desires, but it’s growing on me each day I sit at this desk to help build a strong, stable court case. I take pride in doing good work, even if I’m not really interested in the dry, convoluted cases that our law firm takes on sometimes. It’s important to be a team player, and even I know that, even if the work itself isn’t exactly exciting.

  Suddenly, a voice interrupts me. “Are you really hard at work, or are you just trying to avoid Nancy’s burning eyes from across the room?”

  I giggle. My best friend at work, Petra, sits down at the desk beside me and I breathe a sigh of relief. The pretty blonde always knows how to put a smile on my face. Her ocean blue eyes are incredibly vibrant today, complimented by a beige button-down shirt paired with black slacks and red heels. She winks conspiratorially as she opens a case file and grabs a purple pen from a pink cup on top of her desk.

  The lawyers hate when Petra uses any other color pen besides black or blue, but Petra insists that those colors are too boring for her. Using zany shades is what makes her unique and brings her individuality to the table, even if it infuriates the attorneys at the firm. But it’s Petra’s inclination to brush them off that makes me love her. Anything to thumb our noses at those hoity-toity legal eagles who think they’re better than us.

  Before I get a chance to reply to her observation, I feel a slight tickle between my eyes. Pins and needles shoot down my nose and I suddenly feel the urge to scratch the itch as the sensation flows from the bridge to the tip of my nostrils. The ensuing sneeze rocks me in my desk chair, the black plastic squeaking w
ith an abrupt motion as I let the sneeze take over my bodily reactions. Despite wearing a mask, I still reach up to burrow my nose into my elbow and my other hand grips my chair’s armrest to brace myself for impact, my eyes slamming shut. I feel immediate relief when it’s over, but my mind changes when I reopen my eyes.

  Not only is everyone in the office staring at me with horror, but Petra looks at me with wild eyes, worry and concern etched on her face. Her blue gaze is shocked, her pen-wielding hand frozen above the papers on her desk, her mouth agape.

  “Um, wh-what was that?” she stutters. I pause for a moment.

  “A sneeze?” I reply, regaining my composure and adjusting my black suit jacket and my matching pencil skirt. A button on my white shirt came undone during the process, and now my cleavage is a little too exposed for my liking at work. I hurriedly button the shirt and tuck in my big breasts. Unfortunately, the button still strains against the tight material, but it’ll have to do for now.

  “You better not have that damn virus, Olivia,” Petra warns, leaning forward in her chair and lowering her voice so only I can hear her. “I’m not afraid to call the CDC and tell them what you’ve been up to.”

  I laugh at her empty threat and roll my eyes at her dramatic reaction. “And what have I been up to?”

  Her eyes widen and makes an exasperated face, as if the answer is just so obvious. “Sneezing, Olivia.”

  “The last time I checked, sneezing isn’t the only symptom of the virus,” I retort, a half-hearted smile playing on my lips. “Last I heard, it’s a very human thing to do.” But my friend shakes her head.

  “I saw on the news—”

  I hold up my hand and Petra goes silent. She bites her lips and looks down at her cherry red heels, knowing she is going to get an earful from me. “Stop right there. I thought I told you to stop watching the news, Petra. You know it makes you paranoid.”

  Last week, we agreed that Petra would stop watching the news after she bought nearly all of the toilet paper at our local Target and tried to fight another woman over the last disinfectant spray. Needless to say, the news only adds fuel to the fire of paranoia and panic over this pandemic and Petra is a victim, making her a big ball of anxiety and stress.

  “It was one nightly broadcast, Olivia,” she whines, but the way she averts her gaze and picks at a loose thread on her shirt tells me it was more than that.

  I decide to let it slide since Petra looks so guilty. “What did the news say, girlfriend?”

  She takes a breath and scoots her rolling chair closer to mine, forgetting the paperwork lying idly on her desk and dropping her purple pen with a quiet click. She glances around the office quickly, her eyes flitting over each vacant face before returning her gaze to me. I can’t help but smirk at her dramatics.

  “They’re saying that New York City has been shut down,” Petra whispers, her eyes darting to the right and left to make sure no one overhears. Although, I can’t blame her considering their reaction to a few harmless sneezes from me. “New York City, Olivia! The damn Big Apple, the infamous city of fun and filth!”

  “Petra, that’s because it’s really bad over there,” I assure her, placing a hand on her knee. She cringes when I touch her and I smile because I know she really wants to scoot her chair farther from her sneezing friend. “It’s incredibly overpopulated and you can catch a venereal disease just by touching the subway railing.”

  “It’s getting worse, Liv,” she insists. “It’s going to get to us eventually.”

  I frown.

  “But we live in Maine, Petra. The closest supermarket near my apartment is a half hour away and the shopping mall is almost an hour. We’re very spread out here in Camdale, so it’ll be hard for the virus to spread.”

  My reassurance falls on deaf ears. My friend bites her lip anxiously and pushes away from me, rubbing her neck like she always does when she’s stressed. She looks up at me when she returns to her desk and picks up her purple pen with shaking fingers.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I smile at her level of concern and care and I nod my head. “Yes, Petra. I promise I’ll get checked out if I feel worse. It’s just a cold or allergies.”

  She nods her head and her eyes crinkle at the corners. Even though I can’t see her smile, I know she’s grinning ear to ear because of my promise.

  But really, there’s no need to go to the doctor because I do feel fine. Besides a few sneezes and a dull headache behind my eyes, I feel as good as new.

  As Petra turns back to her paperwork, her eyes widen and she glances at me quickly. Then her eyes go wide at something behind my shoulder before turning away. I don’t to look to know who it is, and sure enough, and faint trail of disgust goes down my spine.

  “Hello, beautiful,” lisps a high, reedy voice.

  Ugh. It’s Willy Disdale, a name partner at Disdale Trout. I roll my eyes at his endearment and try to ignore the tall, spindly man standing next to my desk.

  “Do you have the information for the Parker case yet?” He places slim fingertips on my desk and taps them to get my attention, which only infuriates me and sends volts of anger down my spine. A ruby ring resting on his pinky finger glimmers under the light and I squint my eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness.

  I glance up at him, his green eyes the shade of emeralds and his bleached blonde hair combed to one side and slicked back. He doesn’t wear a suit and tie like all of the other partners do. He wears a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone, revealing small patches of bleached blonde chest hair. A gold chain sits in the center of his chest, right above his heart. His black slacks are wrinkled and his shoes are dirty and unkempt. The guy dresses like a Mafia don and acts like a total jackass. Unfortunately, he’s also my boss so I have no choice but to put up with it.

  “I’m working on it now, Mr. Disdale,” I mutter under my breath, looking back at the paperwork in front of me. It happens to be the Parker case he’s asking about and I cover the title of the page with another. The last thing I want is to spark a conversation with Willy.

  “Well, I’m going to need it soon,” he hisses, but then hesitates, his breath catching slightly. “Do you know what else I need soon?”

  I grimace internally, but slap a smile on my face. “What, Mr. Disdale?”

  “A date with you.”

  My smile never falters, but inside, I’m mentally vomiting. This is a daily occurrence for me and his relentlessness is tiresome. He needs to be reported to HR for sexual harassment, but what can you do when the man is a name partner at your law firm? I look at the wily figure before me and respond,” No” with a tight smile.

  He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, sauntering off to his office. “You’ll say yes one day, Miss Castor. I’m sure of it.”

  Not. Nothing could make me more violently ill than going on a date with Willy Disdale. I would chop off my right arm before letting that happen.

  As I watch Willy walk away, my direct manager, Bernice, minces over to my desk, her hands tightly clasped in front of her as her line of sight darts between me and Willy. Bernice is a middle-aged woman with little to no fashion sense. She refuses to dye her gray hair, which is pulled into a low bun at the base of her neck, calling to mind Miss Havisham from Great Expectations. Her beige shirt is two sizes too big for her and her long, billowing floral skirt does nothing for her figure whatsoever.

  But actually, Bernice is relatively okay-looking. With a slender nose, plump lips, and big hazel eyes, she’s not bad. It’s her terrible presentation that makes her resemble a mouse.

  “Was Willy asking about the Parker case?” she asks.

  Just as I open my mouth to reply and confirm her suspicions, I feel that familiar tickle between my eyes that cascades down the length of my nose. Oh, no.

  “Ah-CHOO!” I sneeze loudly.

  When I open my eyes, Bernice is staring at me, utterly horrified. Her mouth hangs open and she takes a few steps
back, socially distancing herself from me and my area.

  “Go home, Olivia,” she demands. “Get some rest.”

  “But I feel fine—”

  “Go home,” she reiterates. “I can take the Parker case off of your hands. We don’t need anyone to be getting sick in the office, especially during this pandemic.”

  I don’t argue after glancing around the office and seeing the desperate, terrified looks on everyone’s faces. Even Petra looks scared, and I sigh. Fine. I’ll go home, even if I’m perfectly okay.

  2

  Randall

  I splash cold water on my face, but I’m still as exhausted as I was before.

  The sleeves of my white lab coat are drenched in water, clinging to my wrists as I turn the faucet off, the steady flow of cold water halting as the room fills with silence. I revel in the stillness, so quiet that I could hear a pin drop. There’s no beeping, no shouting, and no sense of urgency. It’s just peaceful; it’s a safe haven in the midst of pandemonium.

  After all, beyond this private bathroom’s white door is utter chaos. There are terminally ill patients; screaming family members; stressed and anxious nurses; and doctors at wit’s end. I’m one of those doctors. I’m hopeful that there will be a solution to a patient’s health problem, but worried that admittance to the hospital will lead to something even more serious than I’m mentally equipped to deal with.