Chapter Seven
London
“Hey, is everything okay?” Olivia throws open the door to her room and waits for me to step inside. I wait until she closes the door and drifts to the window, then I release a deep breath.
“Yeah, I just wanted…is there any news?”
Olivia raises an eyebrow. “Not yet.”
“It’s been a few days.”
Olivia studies me, and I wonder if she can see right through me. “These things can take time.”
I debate whether to unburden myself to her, but something stops me.
Olivia and I aren’t exactly friends, but under different circumstances, we might have been.
Miss Deveroux already suspects the truth, but I can’t put her in any more danger.
She’s done enough for the family.
And I feel the urge to unburden myself to someone without a hundred strangers around.
Olivia and I might have an alliance of sorts, but she is still Mason’s sister.
He will always come first, and I don’t want him to hear about the baby from someone else, not with everything else going on.
How much longer are you going to keep this from him, huh? For all your talk about being honest and being there for each other, you sure have a funny way of showing it.
But I’ve seen Mason’s anger firsthand. I hope he’ll see this as a chance to start over, to forge a better path ahead, but I know he won’t like it at first.
Will he wonder if I orchestrated the whole thing?
Will he demand I get rid of the baby?
My chest tightens at the thought, and I push it away and fix my gaze on Olivia. “What?”
Olivia clears her throat. “You told me that you were worried what would happen if Mason found out about what you did. What happens if he does?”
I ignore the lurch in my stomach. “I’ll figure something out.”
But short of throwing myself at his mercy, I don’t have any ideas.
I’m not even sure how much longer Mason will allow me to run around on my very short leash, knowing that I’m endangering my life.
I know I shouldn’t have gone to the clinic.
I know how stupid and reckless it is, but in the moment, it had seemed like the right decision.
Almost as if my feet had developed a mind of their own.
Don’t kid yourself into thinking he’ll let this go. He’s probably just trying to figure out the best way to make sure you can’t sneak out again.
Olivia leads me to the closet and throws open the doors. “Alright. Good. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to continue your involvement, but the second phase of the plan is ready.”
“Olivia, I know we don’t know each other well, but I need to know something.”
“A meeting with Michael Everett is all I need. The messages will guarantee that. That’s all I can tell you without endangering your life further.”
“What makes you think your history will be enough to get him to agree to see you?”
Too much is at stake for this to go wrong.
I need more than Olivia’s faith.
Olivia throws the double doors to her closet open. “Because I have something he wants. He just needs to remember that.”
Half an hour later, we’re sitting across from each other at the bar in the club, and Katia is somewhere in the shadows.
I let Olivia take my hand and lead me to the dance floor as the pulsing music washes over me.
I lift my arms over my head and run them down over me, aware of Katia’s eyes on me the entire time.
A group of women joins us on the dance floor, and Olivia and I exchange a glance.
Then I duck away, my head lowered as I make a beeline for the bathroom.
After splashing cold water on my face, I come out and glance down both sides of the hallway, relieved to find the assassin nowhere around.
I flatten myself against the wall and creep forward until I reach the back door.
A heartbeat later, a shadowy figure emerges, and my heart stutters until I recognize Carlisle.
Wordlessly, he takes a key out of his pocket, and the door opens with a thud.
The crisp, evening air lifts the hair on the nape of my neck.
My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness, and as soon as they do, I quicken my pace and hurry after Carlisle, sweat forming under my wig.
When we reach a less exposed part of the estate, Carlisle lets out a low whistle, and a figure emerges from the shadows.
It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and recognize Miss Deveroux.
Wordlessly, she brushes past me, and I feel her hand slip into my pocket.
A moment later, she disappears into the shadows, and Carlisle leads me back to the club.
“You and Olivia are taking too many risks. This shouldn’t have been done on the estate. There are eyes and ears everywhere. You’re lucky I know the guards’ schedule.”
I swallow. “You’re right.”
Carlisle spares me a quick look before swinging his gaze back to the front. “It feels like I’m the only one with common sense. If I get caught because of you---”
“I won’t let that happen,” I interrupt. “I won’t give you or Olivia up. You have my word.”
Carlisle scoffs. “No offense, Princess, but your word doesn’t mean shit to me. I don’t know you.”
I curl my hands into fists and stare straight ahead. “Fair enough, but we’re in this together whether we like it or not, so let’s try and make the most out of this.”
Carlisle offers a grunt as a reply.
In silence, he leads me back to the club, where Olivia is still swaying on the dance floor.
My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest as I place one foot in front of the other and head for a booth in the back.
I blink and realize a few of the clients are throwing long looks my way. Frowning, I adopt a bored expression. Then, I saunter forward and take a stick of gum from my purse. I hide my tremor as I shove it into my mouth and chew, the strawberry taste doing little to settle my nervous stomach.
What the hell am I doing?
I barely survived getting caught by Mason once, and I know he won’t be as forgiving the second time.
Why, then, am I so eager to tempt fate?
Because the second you saw the two pink lines, everything changed. The stakes are different for you now, and you know it.
As soon as I’m sure no one is looking, I sink into the booth and splay my fingers over my stomach. I try not to glance down, but it’s hard. All I want to do is go back to the manor, lie down in bed, and imagine my baby’s heartbeat.
I can almost picture him now, a tiny little bundle with Mason’s stormy eyes and my bright hair.
My heart dips at the sight, and I find my thoughts drifting to Mason.
Try as I might, I can’t imagine him drawing me closer to him in public or brushing our baby’s hair out of their face.
I can’t even imagine him holding a baby in his arms.
And it makes my heart shrink.
A waitress returns with a drink and a plate of peanuts. I give her a half-smile, but I don’t touch anything. The longer I stare at the table, the worse I feel.
Mason and I will never have that kind of normalcy or anonymity.
How can we when he lives in a world that thrives on chaos and bloodshed?
You’ve known who he was from the start, London. He’s never lied about that, and he has changed for you. Why can’t that be enough?
I choke back a sob and hunch lower in my seat.
I want it to be enough so badly that I grip the table and lower my head.
I have no idea who I’m praying to, or what I’m praying for.
All I know is that it isn’t about me anymore.
Every step I take, every decision I make has to be for the good of the baby.
Whatever happens moving forward, I have to do whatever I can to make sure they aren’t born into the eye of the storm with war waging outside the window.
What kind of life would I be condemning the baby to if I didn’t try to make it better?
Is that why you’re here instead of safely at the manor? Come on, London. Don’t be stupid. You’re not going to be the one to bring this to an end. It can’t be that simple.
Still, I have to try because sitting around in the manor, pacing the empty halls, and waiting for news is chipping away at me.
I have to do something, even if I fail.
And what about Mason, huh? Doesn’t he have the right to know at least one of the reasons why you’re doing this? It’s his baby, too.
Even if he doesn’t want the baby, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the father.
He should have a say in this, too.
With trembling hands, I sit up straighter and grab a handful of peanuts.
There’s a loud cacophony of voices somewhere across the room. I sit up straighter and peer into the semi-darkness. Then I jolt back and panic courses through me when I spot Noah’s father. Hastily, I look away and pretend to be busy on my phone.
Footsteps approach the table.
Please walk away. Please walk away. Please…
“I’m surprised to find you here.”
I look up at him. “Excuse me?”
“I heard you were with someone rich now. I assumed he’d take you to nicer places.”
My brows furrow as I stare at him. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”
Noah’s father snorts and sits across from me. “Even with that ridiculous wig and the cheap clothes, I still recognize you, London.”
I ball my hands into fists. “Keep your voice down.”
Noah Sr. pulls my drink closer to him and takes a long sip. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t think you want people to know you were here, either,” I say. “I know you’re making a play for the senate.”
Noah Sr. takes another sip of my drink. “Noah never did know how to keep his mouth shut.”
I refuse to look away first. “What’s your point?”
Noah Sr. finishes my drink and reaches for the bowl of peanuts. Something about the gleam in his eyes makes me go cold all over. I always did my best to be civil toward Noah’s dad, but something about him always rubbed me the wrong way.
I’ve never liked how he acted like the world owed him something.
Like he was above reproach.
And I like it even less when I’m sitting across from him in a diner in the middle of nowhere.
Suddenly, I wish I hadn’t come.
Will Noah’s dad draw attention to us?
Has he seen something he shouldn’t?