I'm so incredibly sorry for this late update, but writing doesn't come easily to me in this period. This is my third week of quarantine and it's becoming a little frustrating, but there are so many doctors out there helping us all that I certainly can't complain! As long as we're healthy, staying at home is ok. I know that I should probably make the most of this free time, and I'm trying to do my best.
A special thank you to Stefanie, who has been a blessing and a perfect coach! Really, this chapter wouldn't be the same without her help.
Without further ado, have a nice reading!
G-
Chapter 4: You're lovin' on the psychopath sitting next to you
He found her like he had many times before, yet this time it stirred something deep inside his gut — and his crotch, for the matter.
Donna had her vertiginous heels crossed and propped on the surface of his glass desk. Harvey's eyes roamed appreciatively over her silhouette, from her toned and milky legs that seemed to go on for miles, to her partially exposed cleavage — the deep cut of the neckline letting his imagination go wild without actually revealing too much. How was she able to pull off these kind of clothes, looking tantalizing but not vulgar, he'd never understand.
Her slender body was wrapped in an exquisite turquoise dress, the feeble light of the mid-spring sun hitting her frame from behind, giving her an ethereal glow. Her thick waves of fiery red hair blazed under the faint light, creating a deep contrast with her fair skin.
Harvey's mind got flashes of her over the years — first clad in a green dress, sporting bangs and a proud smirk, as she scribbled down something with her four-colored pen; then coated in pastel pink, scolding him about Zoey and walking him through every single trick she had pulled out of her sleeve for him that week.
She sat in the very same position, now acknowledging his presence and probably catching him ogling. The secretary smiled at her boss, shaking her head just the slightest bit and conveying the message that he was an idiot.
She looked angelic.
Harvey wondered if she had ever looked this enchanting, or if she had ever looked at him like that — with tenderness, empathy and warmth.
It was as if now that he had finally come to terms with his feelings, he was able to see her in a new light. A new pair of glasses to see the world, the push he needed to access reality.
"Sorry Miss, am I in the wrong office?" Harvey quipped, as he closed the door behind him and approached the desk.
Donna just rolled her eyes, "What did he say?" she asked at last, deliberately ignore his previous teasing.
She had been the one who found out about Daniel Hardman's filthy affair, giving Harvey the leverage Jessica needed to take over the firm. They both knew that he couldn't have reached this point in his career without her help.
Her being the gentle wind beneath his wings, pushing him toward the glory, was one of the many unspoken roles she played in Harvey's life.
"What do you think he said?" He rounded the piece of furniture and went to lean on the edge beside her thin calves. "He said yes."
An appreciative sigh came out of Donna's mouth, "Good," she nodded as the information sank in, "so Mike's coming back to the firm... everything is slowly starting to get back to normal."
The irony of the statement didn't get lost on Harvey, who felt an unpleasant stir inside his abdomen. It wasn't about Mike — he was glad the kid had accepted his offer to take a job at Pearson Specter Litt as a consultant — but about his constant hot and cold game with Donna.
They couldn't keep this charade going forever, taking two steps forward and three steps back, and he had every intention of letting her know just that.
All intentions went out of the window the minute his eyes got lost in those hazel pools of hers. A thread of gold lightened the green of her irises and - damn, had they always been these shimmery and deep?
The closeness was almost too much to handle, being this near to her but not being able to touch her properly was turning out to be harder than he thought. The urgency that moved him after years of abstinence was almost disconcerting.
How did he even go through more than a decade without looking at her like this?
He suddenly stiffened, worried that if she had always read his thoughts like an open book on a daily basis, she could bust him more easily now that he wasn't trying to keep his cards close to his chest.
Who could have told him that she was just as worried, considering that all her brain was able to articulate was an incessant and loud 'I'm pregnant with your child, I'm pregnant with your child, I'm pregnant with your child.'
Donna was the first to break the stare, clearing her throat as she said, "Alright, all's well that ends well..." she trailed off, pushing herself off the chair.
Harvey couldn't help but feel hot under his collar as the motion made their forearms brush. He had that same woman in his bed a couple of months ago, and just a little gesture like this one was making him hot and bothered — shocking.
And she was just as affected as he was, her hormones all over the place and tingling every time he was close.
"You know," Donna breathed out, "it just occurred to me that you and I don't have to think about getting the Puppy out of prison anymore."
Harvey held her purposeful gaze, and, as much as he had wanted to be the one to bring up the idea, he decided to give in and be game. He was just happy she appeared to be on the same page.
"Yeah," he breathed out as well, cocky grin taking over his lips, "that didn't just occur to you."
Memories of the other time, her in her mid-twenties hiding a can of whipped cream behind her back and saying these exact same words, flew back to her mind.
"So... maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow night," she proposed almost casually, but anxiousness and fear of rejection were seeping under her skin, "to celebrate."
"Miss Paulsen, are you already inviting me over to your place? Wouldn't a gentleman have to ask you on a date first?"
Her playful and almost smug expression was quickly replaced by a serious one, and he wondered if maybe he had pushed too much. Joking was one thing, but maybe he had gone too far with all the innuendos and suggestive repartees.
"I need to talk to you about something important," she said sorely. "And then, I think I don't need to remind you that we've plentifully established you're not a gentleman."
Her expression turned soft and Harvey could finally breathe again.
"Okay, then."
"Okay."
She took another minute or two before she smirked and made her way out of his office, giving her hips an extra sway.
This woman is going to be the death of me, Harvey smirked to himself.
Donna spent her lunch break with Rachel. They settled for a small cafe, pretty casual, but one that her foodie friend seemed to enjoy particularly. They made small talk about their day so far, and exchanged the latest gossip, digging their forks in their Ceasar salads. Donna deliberately omitted her own news, not feeling like letting Rachel in on the pregnancy yet. She just craved some quality time with her friend while not having to think about births, talking to her baby daddy or filing motions for at least an hour.
After what turned out to be less than an hour, they made their way back to Pearson Specter Litt, where Donna got an unexpected call from her OBGYN's office.
Doctor White's secretary had managed to fit her in for a late-evening appointment that day, just before closure. The employee was almost embarrassed by the very short notice, but Donna knew she was lucky to be squeezed in at all. There had been a glitch that had messed up with the doctor's calendar, and now the only times available were tonight or in two weeks. And she was already four months late.
Indeed, Donna decided to confirm and go by herself.
It's not that she wanted to go alone — Harvey was the father and had every right to see his baby and be updated about its development. But the uncertainty about the conditions of the fetus itself made her hesitate: she had absolutely no idea what to expect. First, she needed to make sure that everything was alright; that way she wouldn't have to get his hopes up and then let him down if something was actually wrong.
Plus, she couldn't fathom the thought of breaking the news of her pregnancy and asking Harvey to accompany her to the first sonogram on the same day. One step at a time.
No matter how adamant she was about having made up her mind, as soon as she sat down in the waiting room of her OBGYN's, Donna felt a wave of panic taking over. Two couples were there, the first woman was about six or seven months along — if she had to take a guess — and the second had a belly so huge it seemed like it could burst any minute. The thought of herself in the same state in just a few months took her breath away.
But the anxiety she was experiencing soon got replaced by an overwhelming sense of grief. The soon-to-be mothers were both the sole object of attention of their partners, who considerately rubbed their rounded midsections, whispered how much they loved them and how excited they were about the imminent arrival of their children.
A hot tear escaped her left eye, and while she didn't give a shit about her vulnerability since no one seemed interested in her, she did feel bad about experiencing one the these many 'firsts' alone. Her judgment was all over the place, and she had truly thought that going alone was the best idea at the moment.
After about thirty minutes, Donna was called in, so she carried herself into the examination room on wobbly legs and with a stomach tied in knots. The level of nervousness matched without a doubt her first visit to get vaccinated when she was just a toddler, and it has to be said that Donna remembered it as one of the scariest experiences of her life.
The doctor had been surprised when the redhead had told her that she got pregnant. They hadn't discussed the possibility of motherhood, and the fact that she managed to conceive without trying was rare at her age. She had asked the same protocol questions, and as much as Donna had this irrepressible desire to bury her head into the sand every time they touched the subject of the unplanned nature of her condition, she got completely blindsided when Doctor White had called her an "Elderly Primipara."
"A- what?" Donna shot her neck up from her current lying position on the exam table, utterly disgusted by the definition.
"An elderly primipara," the doctor said never tearing her eyes from the screen, coaxing Donna to get comfortable again with a gentle nudge, "a woman who has her first baby after the age of 35," she explained further.
Donna's frown only deepened as she pushed up on her elbows once again, before Dr. White eventually scolded her, "Donna, I'm going to need you to stay still to get a decent ultrasound."
She did as instructed, expelling a long breath and trying to calm her nerves. A pretty difficult task considering how restless she felt.
"A little tense, are we?" Dr. White teased subtly, shifting her gaze to Donna for a just a second, before moving the doppler a little more to the right and applying pressure there.
Donna winced, "Just do your job, Heather, and try to not miss a third foot," she teased.
The two women had been friends for several years. Donna had just started her brief off-broadway career when she had met the lively blonde, and they had clicked and bonded almost instantly. Heather had been there when Donna made a name for herself in the secretarial pool and the corporate law world, and Donna had helped her out during the long yet rewarding period that brought Heather to get her degree in gynecology.
"Well, I definitely see something here, but it's definitely not a third foot!" She smiled down at her patient. "The baby is in a very convenient position. I can tell you the sex, if you want."
"No!" Donna jumped. She had already taken so much away from Harvey, that she felt like finding out whether it was a boy or a girl was a moment she was supposed to share with him. "I wanna wait."
"Are you sure?" Heather threw her a skeptical look, knowing that her friend was a control freak and had betted she would have wanted to know something like this. "That way you can start looking for names, or plan a theme for the nursery like I did with Phoebe."
The last thing on Donna's mind was baby names right now. And a theme? She didn't even know she was supposed to pick one. She found herself ultimately regretting her decision and wishing Harvey was with her, holding her now empty and cold hand.
"No, thanks." She blinked. "Maybe next time, if I manage to bring along the baby's father without having him pass out."
Heather threw her a look, a look that made her feel like she could tell she was referring to Harvey. She didn't know how, she just felt it. Heather didn't question it further, though, instead, she proceeded to turn up the sound of the heartbeat.
A foreign whoosh-whoosh filled the otherwise silent room, and the screen was turned for Donna to see the baby. It was the very first time, yet, it was something she could get used to. The fact that she could discern a rather clear image of the body — even if it was almost all head — made her realize how much time she had lost without figuring out she was pregnant because there it was - a baby. The information sank in Donna's head for the very first time, leaving her in awe, but strangely calm and collected as well.
After taking a few measurements, establishing her due date, and snapping a couple of pictures, Donna was ready to make her way out of Doctor White's office. Her friend enveloped her in a loving hug, congratulated once again, and made her promise to not be a stranger anymore.
"Tell Peter and Phoebe I said hi, but maybe don't jump at the first chance to say she's going to have someone to play with in the next few months," Donna said, grabbing her purse and noticing with displeasure that her silky top had been smeared with some of the gel that had been splayed across her belly.
"Will do. And Donna," Heather asked for her friend's attention before she got out the door, "call for anything you need, and not just an appointment."
The redhead heard her loud and clear, but the only thought that was bugging her head was the little sonogram of her unborn son or daughter, and telling the man who helped to create it about its existence the following evening.
Donna was positively beaming the next day. The light cramping she had been experiencing during the past week was almost gone, the decaf coffee she had that morning was actually starting to be drinkable and she was leaving the office early to get tickets for a play she was dying to see.
Her break was supposed to be in a couple of minutes and she made good with the paperwork she was handling for Harvey as well, so he had encouraged her to go ahead.
The place they were currently in was... good. They still hadn't discussed anything important though. Harvey was fully convinced he had to worry about an overdue conversation regarding their blurry lines, oblivious that it would be overshadowed by her own confession. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, and so far they were doing good.
Donna was coping with the stress of hiding her pregnancy relatively well, but just because she was really looking forward to coming clean that night. She knew that the decision of keeping Harvey in the dark until now had been ultimately hers, but no matter how it turned out, she was just glad she didn't have to hide anymore.
Feeling butterflies in her stomach whenever he was around was not an unusual thing, but she had started noticing literal fluttering in her lower abdomen as well. It had caught her off guard, leaving her feeling weird and excited and amazed, and she just really wanted to share that with Harvey. The sonogram was burning a hole in the inner pocket of her navy dress, and she swore she could feel the heaviness of it.
The elevator reached the ground floor with a ding. It held about six people on the inside — Donna included — most of them being clients and attorneys in their fine five hundred dollars suits.
The woman couldn't help but notice that every single one of them didn't show any intention of leaving work-mode, spiraling in the hustle and bustle of their demanding jobs. She had seen it in Harvey — how the all-consuming and frantic world of business could make you lose touch with the real world around you.
It was the main reason that made her doubt his involvement in the baby's life.
She wondered if the fast pace of their realities could make room for a child that would inevitably need all of their time and dedication. As far as Donna was concerned, she was sadly aware that she wouldn't be able to give one hundred percent at work and to a baby, and she was slowly accepting that. If one thing had to be cut back, it would never be her own kid.
Tapping their heels to the floor with unnerving urgency, as soon as the doors opened, the five men rushed out of the lift, occasionally shoving her in the process.
"Donna!" She was lovely called by a familiar voice in the process.
Only once the elevator was empty, she stepped out of it to see her colleague on the 46th floor, Paul Porter's secretary, holding a stack of papers and a pen between her fingertips.
"Melanie!" She greeted with faux excitement, a forced smile plastered on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. No one had ever seen so many of Donna's teeth — except probably her dentist— and the redhead believed her acting skills weren't pulling it off. They weren't enough to cover the surprise of catching the assistant after so many weeks without even running into her.
There was nothing majorly wrong about Melanie, but the short brunette had definitely too much tongue and too little brain.
Melanie wasn't mean, but, during the only few times they had chatted over coffee, she hadn't been able to bring up anything of substance. The conversation had reached its highest topics with the plastic surgery she claimed she had to take for her 'broken' nose, and with how her ex-husband wouldn't let her take the house in the Hamptons.
She had even asked Donna for Harvey's help at the time, wanting him to represent her. Donna had told her that divorce wasn't Harvey's field, but somehow that information didn't seem to register. She had, once or twice, even tried to bring up the topic of 'sex with your boss' and how the hell it was possible that the couple had never done that. In that moment Donna had never felt more pitiful for anyone.
Donna wasn't one into stereotypes, but that woman ticked all the boxes.
It wouldn't be hard to wonder if Gina Kirschenheiter's spirit had taken upon her small frame because there were just too many resemblances. But real housewives or not, the woman pulled it off with Paul Porter every single day, and he had yet to get stabbed, so she guessed that was remarkable.
"It's so good to see you! How have things been? I heard what happened with Mike... it was all over the newspapers." Melanie mentioned, politely taking upon what she thought was a tea conversation, but was really a strong margarita one.
"Oh," Donna bit her tongue, putting it as impassive as she could to not trigger Melanie's curiosity, "we're slowly finding our feet again. You'll see." She promised with a sincere smile.
An awkward silence followed, and the short brunette assistant's eyes began to wander around, clearly trying to get a cue to end the small rendezvous.
She took a breath, "Very well- no," she cut her farewell short once she noticed a man taking the only available elevator, "please, hold it! I'm going up, too."
Donna was utterly relieved at hearing those words.
"We need to catch up over dinner sometime." Melanie squeezed Donna's arm with affection, before joining the stranger into the elevator.
"I'll call you as soon as things get a little less crazy." Donna lied, waving at her as the man inside hurried in raising his hoodie.
The move couldn't help but catch Donna's attention.
It was strange enough that anyone in a law firm would wear a hooded sweatshirt, but his entire presence — everything from his shoes to his posture — screamed that he didn't belong there. She seriously doubted he was about to attend a meeting, and he most certainly didn't work there.
And there had been this... thing, this recoil at her presence. He had physically raised a barrier between them — preventing her to make up any feature of his face — and that alone couldn't have been random. It wasn't a coincidence: he hadn't expected to run into her, and he didn't want to be recognized.
Before Donna could read too much into it though, the doors closed, putting the ultimate distance between them and eventually hampering every chance she could have had to dig further.
For a moment or two, Donna felt this strange need of not leaving the building. Some magnetic force was keeping her there, waiting, like something was going to happen and she couldn't miss it. And as much as that force was invisible, it was very much present. Her gut was basically screaming at her, prevailing on the rational part of her brain.
Donna shook her head — figuratively and literally — and forced herself out of the door and off to get the already paid tickets.
The familiar, yet undistinguishable, sense of coldness and apprehension pressing on her chest, though, didn't cease.
Melanie slowly trailed her eyes from top to the bottom of the document she was holding. Checking that everything was in order and the signatures right where they were supposed to, she slowly pushed on her feet to stretch and relieve some tension. She wasn't twenty anymore, her toes and back were aching, and she couldn't wait to call it a day in a few hours. She just looked forward to going out for some drinks with her girlfriends and enjoy the mundanity of New York City by night.
She briefly glanced to her left, eyeing the man whose stare she could sense on her skin.
Clad in a cheap monochromatic sweatshirt and jeans, the signs of a five o'clock shadow — he definitely wasn't her type.
Her eyes went back to the numbers flashing above her head, signaling they were just a few floors away from-
"Shh," she felt the sound breathed against her ear, as two strong arms take a hold of her, "don't put up a fight." The husky voice demanded, but she instinctively jerked away, squirming in a futile attempt of breaking free.
That was until a hand came up to muffle her scared cries and the barrel of a gun was pressed against her side. Her body instantly froze with terror, afraid that if she made another move, it would be her last.
"Now, listen to me," the man spoke, "you weren't exactly my target, so there's no reason for you to worry if you follow my orders, got that?" he said, in a threatening tone that did nothing to back up what he just promised.
He could feel her swallow hard against the palm of his hand, and her head bobbing up and down frantically, in a sign of agreement.
Feeling like he had her, he opened his mouth again, "you and I are going to have a lot of fun together."
Melanie let out a whimper.
"Because I need to get some things done around here, and you can be very helpful, starting by taking me around for a little tour of the Pearson Specter Litt offices. I think there's no need to point out what happens in case you try anything stupid, is there?" The gun was pressed against her flesh to consolidate the concept.
The doors opened to the 46th floor, where Frank Gallo would begin his march of terror, leaving a trail of dead bodies right up the 50th floor, home to his number one target.
You must be hating me now, but there nothing wrong with a little bit of suspense! Please, tell me what you think. I can't wait to hear all your theories!