Author's Note: A million apologies that it's been forever! A lot of "real life" circumstances changed and, among other things, I've moved house and writing's been forced to take more of a backseat than I expected. Thanks to everyone who sent messages - I am hoping to continue with this from where I left off, despite the latest season obviously having answered the question of what would happen after the riot differently than I did during the wait for its release ...

I will keep up with a mixture of familiar faces and the characters I've introduced, although this part will kinda address some perhaps unexpected connections and how some worlds may collide!

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading. T x

16. Pregnant Pause

A hiss of pain turned into a harsh laugh and a groan of something closer to pleasure, her grip on the edge of the office table tightening. The stray earring that had sparked all this lay discarded again in front of her. If she'd known this was his idea of punishment, she wouldn't have bothered trying not to get caught.

"Harder," she growled breathlessly, only urging him on even as he fucked her mercilessly, her already short shirt bunched up around her hips and one hand fisted in the tangles of her hair. "What, that all you got?"

His grip on her hair tightened and twisted and she cried out as he thrust in and out of her, muttering expletives that only turned her on all the more. She didn't know what the fuck had gotten under his skin, but she decided she liked it. And she'd been getting bored of Mateo anyway.

Besides, fucking the boss instead of the driver was definitely a step up in the world.

"Jesus," she groaned. "Harder!"

The tug on her hair this time proved just on the wrong side of pain and she yelped in protest. "Hey, watch it!"

"Shut. Up."

She raised an oh-no-you-didn't eyebrow and moved to turn around to call him on that bullshit, but his hands clamped on her hips held her in place.

"You're forgetting … I'm … the fucking … boss …" he ground out.

Boss. Ha. Like he gave a shit about her typing skills, or her ability to file shit or whatever it was secretaries were supposed to do. She was under no illusion exactly what he wanted from her. Someone to look good sat outside his office and keep those needy bitches he called clients at bay when he needed her to. Was he fucking them too? Probably. What did she care?

She was nobody's two-bit hooker though and she wasn't going to stand for being treated like one.

"Okay, we're fucking done," Aleida hissed.

Only to have his hips slow and his lips graze the back of her neck.

"Tell me to stop then," he said, seeming to regain some control as his voice lowered enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"I will …" she warned. "In a minute."

"In a minute," Ryan North echoed, with a dark smirk that didn't reach his still angry eyes.

He was used to getting his way. In the end.

Back behind his desk, straightening his tie and slicking his hair back in place, Ryan grimaced at the smug note in his secretary's voice over the intercom.

"Got a Vanessa here," she drawled, managing to make just the name sound like an insult as it rolled off her wickedly sharp tongue. "Says it's personal. Want me to … get rid?"

Even that sounded like she was thinking of a more permanent solution and he tilted his gaze towards the ceiling, wondering if he might actually have bitten off more than he could chew with the feisty Latina. He liked a bit of fire in his women, but somehow it seemed to backfire on him these days.

The last show of passion he'd had from Dallas had been her slinging his suits into the street and hollering at him to get the fuck out or else she'd torch his beloved Lexus. With him in the trunk.

Call him crazy, but it had been hot as hell.

If he'd thought he could talk her round, and he absolutely had, he'd been sorely mistaken though. The woman he was supposed to marry, once he'd finally decided it was time to settle down, hadn't let him within touching distance since. And the visit he'd hoped would finally convince her she'd made a mistake had only ended with her yelling at him and slinging some crazy accusations about silent phone calls. As if he was that damn petty …

Silent phone calls.

He'd had his own problems with unwanted calls and he could only wish they'd been silent. Nah, he'd had Vanessa blowing up his answerphone with her needy whining on a near daily basis once he'd tried to cool things off in the hope of getting Dallas back. Too bad she didn't seem the type to take a hint. And now, despite all his attempts to ghost her, here she was at his fucking work. And just when he'd thought she'd finally gotten the message and the calls had dried up.

Suddenly, all those assets that had turned him on so effectively just didn't seem worth the hassle.

Silent phone calls.

She wouldn't … Would she? She bloody would. Jesus.

"Did you fucking die in there?" Aleida demanded impatiently, cutting through his racing thoughts.

"Send her in."

"What? But you said before-"

"That you do as I say. Now send her in," he barked, already tense at the thought of seeing the woman who had cost him his fiancée after weeks … no, months … of successfully avoiding her. He braced himself, taking a deep breath and turning on the old North charm as soon as the door opened. "Vanessa – sorry, I've been so busy-"

"Me too," the platinum blonde said, her tone decidedly arctic as she stood tall in front of the very desk he'd been fucking his secretary on not an hour earlier. One perfectly manicured hand clutched an oversized purse, while the other rested on the swell of a stomach he remembered as distinctly toned through years of yoga.

Oh. This could be a problem.

"I'm not crazy."

Dallas eyed the defiant little Italian perched on the edge of her couch like she was about to take off at any second and thought the better of smiling. "No one's saying you are, Lorna. And I'm not here to … to trap you or trick you or anything like that. We're not going to talk about anything you're not comfortable with."

That was met with a scoff and an exaggerated roll of the eyes, but the counsellor thought that maybe a tiny bit of tension slipped out of those rigid shoulders. That was a start. She still had to get her talking though. If Nicky was right in her assessment, maybe that wouldn't be so hard. She just had to tread carefully.

"So …" Dallas said, after a moment's consideration, trying to look encouraging. "When are you due?"

"You're not taking my baby!"

Whoa, retreat. Wrong move. Definitely wrong move.

Dallas set down her notes and leaned forward in her seat in her sincerity, even if her latest referral would only glare at her from where she had jumped up and cringed away into the corner of the room. "Lorna," she said softly. "I'm not going to take your baby. Is that why you were so reluctant to give this a chance? You can tell me. It's better if we're honest with each other."

"I know you want to label me. That's what you people do. Tie people up in … in neat little boxes, whether they fit properly or not."

"Okay. Okay. Let's look at that for a second," Dallas said, keeping her voice even, calm. "Crazy. That's not a word professionals use-"

"Just 'cause you got a fancy word for it don't make it better."

The counsellor supposed she had a point. "Okay, let's put it another way. I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm not here to diagnose you with anything. I can make recommendations to the warden about support I might feel you need, whether I think there's anything you might be struggling with, things like that. But mostly, I'm here for you. Someone you can talk to in confidence. Unless I have reason to think you or someone else might be in danger - in which case, I have a duty to inform the warden. And I'm being straight up with you about that."

"So I'm supposed to believe you won't tell Fig I freaked out? That I'd be a bad mom if I can't even handle this?"

"Lorna, if a little freak-out meant not being fit to be a mom, no one would ever have kids," Dallas laughed gently, despite trying not to. "I promise you, this is just about doing everything we can to support you. Pregnancy can be tough – physically, mentally, emotionally. If you've got concerns, fears, we can talk those through. Stop things getting … too much. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true," the brunette said, with a sharp little shrug. But she sat back down abruptly. "Nicky says you know your shit."

"Well, Nicky seems like she knows her shit too," Dallas shrugged easily. "So you think you might give me a chance? See if she's right?"

"Not like I got nowhere else to be," Lorna sniffed, deigning to get a little comfier on the couch and making her counsellor finally allow herself to give in to a hopeful smile. "So what d'ya wanna know?"

To be continued ...