Chapter Eight #3
“I think you aren’t understanding, Christos.
I have agreed to this. Because it is the best thing for me.
Because you’re right, it is going to make things easier in some ways.
Because I believe you when you say that your first offer will be the best one.
And I am very aware that you could take me apart piece by piece.
But you are a fool if you think I’m going to make this easy for you.
If you think that I will suddenly become compliant.
I have always known what you were. And you’re right, except for a very brief failure within my instincts to keep me safe, I have always known that I needed to be on guard with you.
It’s not going to stop now, not because I’m having your baby.
Not because we might get legally married. ”
She realized just then that there was another person not wearing scrubs or a medical-type coat standing there as well. A woman with her hair tied back, her features plain. She was holding…the Bible.
“Is this the minister?” she asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m…on standby.”
And nobody seemed to think that their conversation was out of the ordinary. Or at least, nobody cared enough about any of it to defy Christos in any way.
“We’ll get set up in here,” the doctor said. He was a genial man in his midforties. Soft and pleasant-looking in comparison to Christos.
Who was all granite, harsh angles and too much beauty to take in.
That was the problem. She was outraged at him. She genuinely might hate him. And she still thought he was gorgeous.
“First we have to take a cheek swab from both of you and then a blood test from Miss Jones as well.”
She felt a little bit persecuted, but she knew blood tests were part of pregnancy anyway, and she looked forward to winning here. To him finding out that he was being an ass by implying she might be lying.
Maybe he would even feel guilty.
As she sat in the plush chair, got swabbed and had the blood drawn, she looked at him. And wondered how it was possible she felt like she’d never met him before in her life.
The nurse squeezed her hand. “I’ll take you into the bedroom and provide you with a gown.”
Tears pressed against her eyes as she realized that Christos had never seen her in any state of undress, because when they’d slept together it had been entirely in the dark. And now this was going to be the first time that he saw her…
“I need to be entirely covered before Christos is allowed in the room,” she said.
“A sonogram doesn’t necessitate—”
“Then, he needs to stand somewhere where he cannot see my skin.”
She waited. She waited for everyone to defer to him and defy her.
“I will stand by, please,” said Christos.
The doctor looked at Christos directly. “I’m afraid I must defer to what the patient has requested.”
“I am paying—”
“Regardless of pay.”
The nurse held her arms steady. And she felt supported then.
She could see Christos doing mental gymnastics like he was trying to figure out…
Did he really not understand why she might not want him to witness it?
It was hard to imagine that he was so… naive was the wrong word.
He could never be called naive. And yet…
There was something missing. In personal relationships of people.
She had never noticed it in the context of business, because he was always one step ahead of everyone.
But ever since he’d had to attempt to deal with her, he had been a step behind. And that really was baffling.
She was taken into the bedroom and given a gown and also a sheet. Then the nurse left the room and entered again a moment later. “He has left the room. We will get you positioned on the bed. The only part of your body that will be exposed is your stomach. But we can keep him standing by your head.”
“Thank you,” she said.
It meant something. Knowing that at least here she had found allies.
“I don’t know what the nature of your relationship is with him,” the nurse said, “but if you ever feel unsafe, it doesn’t matter how powerful he is. We would try and help you.”
“I don’t feel unsafe,” she said. “I’m just angry at him.”
She knew that Christos would never hurt her. Not physically. She hoped that he didn’t possess the power to hurt her emotionally.
She truly, truly did.
She lay down on the table, the ultrasound machine set up and ready to go.
The doctor put some gel on her stomach, and at that point, Christos was given permission to come back into the room.
She wondered how long it had been since anyone had told him what to do. She imagined it had been even longer since he had complied.
When the Doppler was put onto her stomach, she paid close attention to the screen. It only took a moment for a swooshing rhythmic sound to fill the room.
“There’s the baby’s heartbeat,” said the doctor.
A hard pang hit her in the chest, made her feel hollowed-out. She didn’t know what she had been more terrified of. Finding out that there was no heartbeat, or this.
That realization made her want to weep, because of course it should be easy to want the heartbeat.
To want to keep the promise of this life that had come into her life when she had taken the pregnancy test. But it was also hard.
She could imagine holding a baby, her baby, and it was a beautiful thought.
But she was also just so afraid. Because she had all but signed her marriage license with this heartbeat. And there would be no going back.
“The test is finished,” one of the other medical staffers said. “You are the father, Mr. Onassis.”
Sylvie had known for a fact what the outcome would be. She found she couldn’t even bring herself to react to the news.
Christos was staring at the screen with his expression like granite. Still hoping to find out that there was a chance the baby wasn’t his, she supposed. How was she supposed to feel about this? How in the world could she feel simple joy?
It was impossible. When the whole situation was just so complicated. She swallowed hard.
“You are about thirteen weeks,” the doctor said.
Thirteen weeks.
If the test hadn’t been conclusive, surely that would have done it.
She glanced up to where Christos was standing and tried to see if there had been a change in his expression.
But he was as stoic as ever.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe all that would ever matter to him was black-and-white dates.
The doctor took measurements, but admittedly, she couldn’t tell what she was looking at.
Her vision was too blurry anyway.
She couldn’t tell if it was tears, anger or stress.
When she was finished, she went back into the bedroom to change. She was shaking. And when she came back out, the equipment was gone, but the nurse and doctor and chaplain remained.
The nurse looked at her, with sharp eyes.
“I agreed to it,” she said.
There was a marriage license, already filled out. And the prenup was there. It was brief and allowed for revision, just as he’d said.
He’d taken care of everything. How fortunate for her.
It was just all so…so cold.
She blinked. Of course he had all of this. Because, of course, he was Christos Onassis, and he could make the world turn in a different direction if he wanted to. She would spare herself the monologue.
It turned out, you didn’t really have to say vows to get married. Not in the traditional sense. They had to be pronounced husband and wife by someone ordained and file the right paperwork. And they did.
It didn’t feel like a marriage. It didn’t feel like anything.
She was wearing the same thing she had been wearing at work. They hadn’t kissed. They hadn’t promised to love, honor or obey one another. They hadn’t promise to stay together at all.
Marriage, she realized, really was about the emotion. The ceremony. The paperwork felt like nothing. She might as well have filed her taxes.
She nearly laughed when she looked up at him because that was actually how it felt. Like her taxes had come due in a very big way.
She was having a baby. She had married Christos Onassis.
“I’m having a moving company go to your place and pack up everything you might need. Your furniture, of course will stay behind.”
“Oh. Of course. Why would I want my furniture?”
“Did you not find the suite you were just in to your liking?”
“It’s very nice, I’m sure. But it has nothing to do with me.”
“Perhaps you would like one on the second floor. Or the third? There are infinite rooms for you to choose from.”
“Which is farthest from yours?”
“The third floor it is,” he said. “You will have a bathtub in a bathroom with all glass walls. It overlooks the city below. I imagine it’s quite evocative.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m not given to long, scenic baths.”
“Then, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of the excess?”
“I can have it. And so I do.”
Gladiators in the arena…blah-blah-blah.
The usual Christos soliloquy.
“You know that nurse offered to rescue me.”
“And you didn’t take her up on it?”
“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, if for nothing else than to remind herself of that, because she had felt vulnerable just moments before, and she badly wanted that vulnerability to go away.
Because it hadn’t been a wedding, not really. And this was a marriage only for the sake of the baby. Except even that got tangled and twisted around in her head.
Because he wasn’t going to be the sweet, loving father that she’d had.
But still, you made the best choice possible for the baby. You protected the publishing company. You’re making sure there are no ugly custody battles.
It was true. She had protected herself and the child in the best way she could think to. And there was no point second-guessing it now.
“I’ll just go to my jail cell, then,” she said.
“I thought you were intent on making it clear you were here of your own free will?”
Their eyes caught and held, and she found it difficult to breathe.
Why was it so complicated? It should be very simple.
Simply put, he was the most aggravating man she had ever known.
He was borderline heartless. And yet all of that was tangled around that relationship they’d spent six months having over text.
The fact that she was having a difficult time joining that up with the man in front of her.
But what she did feel?
It was the heat. In spite of everything.
She really did need a reprieve.
“Well. You can have all my things brought to me later.”
“You and I will have dinner together. And discuss the future.”
“Oh, good. More edicts.”
“You only see it as an edict because you are in fact buying into the narrative that you’re a prisoner. You chose this.”
“Yes. Shocking. I chose not to be in a fight with a billionaire over custody.”
“You may not have liked your array of choices, but you did have them.”
She hated him then, most of all because he was right.
Because she knew well enough that this was just life. A series of choices you didn’t always want to make.
“Well, I’ll see if I’m hungry.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“And my response didn’t contain a stutter.”
She turned away, glad to have grabbed a small part of her own back as she found the near hidden staircase in the penthouse and took the steps two a time, ascending to the third floor.
She needed a shower, or maybe a scenic bath, and some rest. She needed to try to come to grips with everything that had just happened.
Three months. Three months she had sat there, feeling broken over what had happened. And today everything had exploded.
Thunder and lightning and doom, doom, doom.
And yet again, she wished that she had someone to talk to.
But her safe space had transformed into a villain.
And if she was going to be angry about one thing forever, it was going to be that.