Betrayed by Trust by Frankie Robertson Page A

suspected that was exactly the effect Kincaid was going for.
    I was less than pleased that my supposedly confidential medical information had been given to Kincaid before me. I imagined him getting a report on every stage of my pregnancy, and gritted my teeth. I contemplated getting a new doctor. This “project,” as Kincaid liked to call it, had pushed our relationship outside the usual employer/employee bounds.
    “The Trust will give you both two weeks off with pay for the wedding and honeymoon, but you have to stay in the States,” Kincaid said. “We can’t risk a miscarriage by you getting Montezuma’s Revenge.”
    Dan and I glanced at each other. We hadn’t planned on leaving the country. We hadn’t even discussed a honeymoon, but I could see how taking one would sell the marriage to our families. And who wouldn’t mind extra time off?
    “That’s in addition to our normal vacation time,” Dan stated, rather than asked.
    “Of course. And you’ll find we have a very generous maternity leave policy, as well.” Kincaid laughed but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “In addition, we’ve made a house available at reduced rent for the two of you to move into.”
    “That’s not necessary,” Dan said. “We’ll be able to manage on our own.”
    “Oh, but I insist. Consider this part of your compensation. Your lives have taken a different course entirely at the request of the Trust.”
    I shrugged. It wasn’t that big a deal, and I had more than enough to think about with planning a wedding, worrying about stretch marks, if I should breastfeed, and whether to use cloth or disposable diapers. “Okay.”
    Dan frowned but didn’t object again.
    Kincaid lifted the corners of his mouth in a satisfied smile that acknowledged our compliance, then stood and came around the desk to shake Dan’s hand. He clasped mine in both of his as if I were fragile. “Congratulations,” Kincaid said again. “And don’t forget to send me an invitation to your wedding.”
    The next day, Barry was waiting for me when I got home from work.
    I spotted his car parked in the space next to mine and thought about driving through the parking lot and leaving him there, but I refused to be a coward. Besides, what could he do?
    He was leaning against the railing of the stairs that went up to my apartment by the time I got out of my car. The lot lights glinted off the gold chain showing in the open collar of his shirt. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said by way of a greeting.
    I clutched my purse to my side. “No.” I hadn’t. Dan and I had been in Illinois, then Kincaid had kept me busy the last week running errands outside of the office. But I hadn’t returned Barry’s calls. They’d become increasingly insistent and I hadn’t wanted to endure another round with him. I stopped in front of him, but he didn’t step aside.
    “Would you move, please?”
    “Can I come up?”
    That didn’t seem like a good idea. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
    He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge under his jacket. “Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?”
    “I’m not.”
    “You’re mad because I didn’t love you when we had sex, aren’t you? That’s not exactly fair. I didn’t do anything you didn’t do.”
    That hit a little too close to home. “Conrad wasn’t expecting anything more than a good time. You had a completely different agenda. You pretended to care. You lied to me.”
    “I respected you. I waited until you were ready. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the whole story right away. Kincaid ordered me not to tell you until you put out, and once you did he read you in. Or Foxworth did. If you hadn’t been willing, the two of us would have had a few laughs and just gone our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”
    Barry had spent a month gaining my trust so I’d sleep with him, but obviously our relationship hadn’t been anything more than another field-op for him. “So you admit screwing