Chapter 16 Basia
BASIA
There’s something heavy on me, pressing me into the mattress.
For a millisecond, I panic, thinking my sleep paralysis demon came to life.
Then I remember not drinking the tea. Not being asleep when Caleb came into my room, making me come, losing control and penetrating me, then storming off when he realized I’m not out of it like he planned.
Oh, and then he filled me with my vibrator and what I later realized was my poor Chapstick and spanked me with my hairbrush.
But finally—finally—he put that massive dick inside me, riding me until we came together.
Best. Night. Ever.
“Morning, sunshine,” Caleb says, his breath stirring my hair. It’s his arm and leg I feel on me—he had me in a possessive hold even in his sleep.
“Morning, grumpy,” I reply with a giggle.
On cue, Caleb grumbles and pulls me in closer.
“You’re an insolent brat,” he says fondly. “But I know just how to punish you.”
I squirm against the morning erection poking into my side, but that’s when I notice the time on my Garfield alarm clock.
“Oh, shit!” I hiss, scrambling to get out from under his heavy limbs. “I promised Mor I’d go with her to her doctor’s appointment, remember?” I sit on the edge of the bed and shove my hair out of my face. “Damien’s stuck at work since people are out with the flu.”
I glance behind me to see him run his palm over his face. “Fine. But your mouth has an appointment with my dick later.”
I squeeze my thighs together and chew on my bottom lip. No, I can’t be late. Morgan already said she wants me to be the baby’s godmother—I have to show her I’m responsible. Doing the horizontal tango with my bodyguard while she waits for me is not being responsible.
“You’re so crude,” I say instead of voicing my thoughts, but I can’t keep the satisfied smile out of my voice.
Caleb, naturally, sees my grin and winks at me. “Shouldn’t tangle with the help if you don’t want crude, darling.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, then throw my pillow at him as I get up. “You’re not the help. And you already told Greg you’re my boyfriend anyway.”
I look around to see my clothes scattered all over my room and shrug. I need a shower anyway; they’d just be on for twenty seconds.
Caleb growls as I walk away, then raises his voice to shout after me: “Don’t boyfriends get to shower with their girlfriends? Wait for me.”
I smile to myself and close the bathroom door firmly, locking it with an audible click. I can’t wait for my punishment.
∞∞∞
Morgan is already waiting for me in the hospital lobby, pacing in front of the information desk like she’s about to be called in for an audition instead of a prenatal checkup.
“You’re late,” she says the second she spots me.
“I’m not late,” I argue automatically. “I’m fashionably—”
“You’re late,” she repeats, pointing at her watch. “And if my blood pressure is high, I’m blaming you.”
I grin and pull her into a hug. “Relax. Your baby can sense stress, and we don’t want them coming out judgmental.”
She snorts despite herself, looping her arm through mine as we head toward the OB-GYN wing. “Says the woman with a full-time bodyguard.”
I glance over my shoulder. Caleb is a few paces back, sunglasses on, jaw tight, scanning the lobby like it personally offended him. Teddy lingers near the entrance, pretending to scroll on his phone while absolutely not pretending to be alert.
“He’s not a bodyguard,” I say lightly. “He’s a lifestyle choice.”
Morgan’s mouth twitches. “Uh-huh. Does this lifestyle choice also come with benefits? You have an extra pep in your step today.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “You’re disgusting.”
“Answer the question.”
Before I can retaliate, a door opens, and a nurse steps out, clipboard tucked under her arm.
“Morgan Cole?”
“That’s me,” Morgan says, squaring her shoulders. Then she pauses, looks at me, and adds, “You’re coming with me.”
I open my mouth to protest—this is her appointment, her space—but Caleb’s voice cuts in smoothly. “I’ll be right outside.”
Morgan’s eyes flick between us, sharp and curious, but she doesn’t push. She just nods and heads inside.
The exam room is quiet and softly lit, all muted colors and the faint antiseptic smell of medicine. Morgan perches on the edge of the table while the nurse checks vitals and chats about cravings and sleep.
“Pickles and ice cream?” the nurse asks.
“No,” Morgan says. “Bagels and rage.”
The nurse laughs and steps out to get the doctor.
Morgan exhales and looks at me sideways. “Okay. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
She arches a brow. “Basia.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. My body feels warm in places it really shouldn’t in a hospital exam room.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Maybe I slept really well last night.”
Morgan’s grin turns slow and knowing. “Uh-huh.”
Before she can press, there’s a soft knock at the door.
A hospital aide steps in, pushing a small cart. On it sits a tall glass vase overflowing with white lilies and pale pink roses.
“Delivery for Morgan Cole,” she says cheerfully.
Morgan blinks. “Damien? This is so not his style.”
I frown. “That’s… sweet,” I say slowly, though something cold slides down my spine.
The aide sets the flowers on the counter and hands Morgan a small card. “Have a great appointment!”
As soon as the door closes, Morgan opens the card.
Her smile fades.
“What?” I ask.
She hands it to me without a word.
The handwriting is neat. Careful. And by now familiar.
We were torn from our mothers.
Existed only to fulfill the prophets’ greed.
My fingers go numb.
“That’s not Damien,” Morgan whispers.
“No,” I say. “It’s not.”
My hand’s already on my phone, pulling up Caleb’s contact. It only rings once.
The door opens again—too fast—and Caleb fills the doorway, his presence like a pressure change in the room.
“What is it?” he asks, already reaching for the card.
I hand it to him. I don’t trust my voice.
His eyes scan the words once. Twice.
Then his jaw tightens so hard I can hear his teeth grind.
“Teddy,” he says quietly into his comms. “Lock the lobby down. No one in, no one out.”
Morgan’s face drains of color. “Basia…”
I take her hand. “Hey. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Caleb sets the card down, then lifts the vase, inspecting the stems, the water. His movements are controlled, precise—but there’s something coiled underneath, something furious.
“This wasn’t meant to hurt you,” he says grimly. “It was meant to be seen.”
“To scare us,” Morgan says.
“No,” Caleb replies. His gaze flicks to me, dark and intent. “To remind her he’s watching.”
The doctor knocks and steps in, mid-smile—then freezes at the sight of Caleb, Teddy’s voice murmuring urgently through his earpiece, and Morgan clutching my hand like a lifeline.
“I… should come back,” the doctor says slowly.
Caleb nods. “Please.”
As the door closes again, I stare at the flowers, their petals perfect and innocent and wrong.
“He knows where we are,” I whisper.
Caleb’s eyes soften—just a fraction—as he looks at me.
“I know,” he says. “And now I know he was here.”
The room feels smaller. Tighter.
And for the first time since last night, I don’t feel reckless or blissed out or brave.
I feel hunted.