Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ADAM
The buzz coming from my desk drawer had become increasingly distracting. I wasn’t sure why I preferred this form of self-torture. I could just turn her damn cell phone off. But I was curious. I wanted to know about the girl I called my wife. I wanted to know everything about her. I reached into the drawer, pulling out the cellphone.
Hannah: Where are you?
Hannah: Seriously, babe, I’m getting freaked out.
Hannah: I’m about ready to call the police.
Hannah: How have you not been reported missing?
Hannah: Do you think the FBI can help?
For fuck's sake, Hannah needed to get herself under control. It’d been two weeks, not a year. I held the box with my wife’s new phone in my hand. The only numbers programmed in there were mine, Ace’s, Mercer’s, and that insanely annoying pain in the ass, Hannah. I told myself I was doing myself a favor, and not because I felt like Belle needed a friend. I should probably program her guards’ numbers in there too, but a part of me didn’t want her to call anyone else for help.
It was odd to me though how few messages she received from anyone other than Hannah. No messages from her friends, none from her family, and most interesting, not a single one from her father. Of course, I assumed he knew I’d take her phone. How stupid would I be not to? But shit, did people care about her at all?
I turned the phone over, about to slide it into a drawer, when it rang. I stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Amanda from Dr. Stevens’s office. I’m looking for Bellamy Crusiaux.”
I cleared my throat. “Ferrari. This is her husband.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of the change, but I’ll note it in her chart. Is she around?” The woman was too fucking cheerful for my liking.
“She’s unable to get to the phone right now. May I take a message?”
“Oh yes. Of course.” Clicking on a keyboard let me know Amanda was multitasking. “I was just calling to remind her of her appointment tomorrow.”
“Appointment?”
“Yes.” She paused. “It appears to be her twelve-week checkup. Do you need instructions on how to get to the obstetrician and gynecology department?”
My heart sped up. My fingers grew clammy. My voice was raspy when I replied, “I think we’ll find it.”
“Great. We look forward to seeing her at ten AM, and congratulations.”
The phone clicked when she hung up, but I held Belle’s cell phone in my hand, midair for longer than necessary as my mind tried to catch up with the information provided to me. It could just be an appointment, right? Maybe it’s been twelve weeks since she started taking birth control, anticipating her union, and it was a follow up. But to congratulate me?
I felt numb when I placed the phone in the drawer. Out of all the troubles I expected with my new wife, this was never one of them. The reality made me raw, made my already precarious emotions dance to the surface. I was an expert at hiding my feelings, but I doubted there was a way to hide the way this made me feel. I swallowed back any emotion I felt and stood, taking the box with Belle’s new phone. Walking down the hall of the west wing, I refused to look at the walls. Refused to look at the photos that lined the walkway. And I absolutely refused to look into the accusing eyes of my late wife as I walked to my new wife, replacing the family I lost.
I stopped at Belle’s door, dismissing Drew, who was leaning against the wall, watching the paint peel. He did not need to be here. It was almost dusk. Mercer and Ace would be home soon, bringing Belle burgers, which she didn’t ask for but had mentioned to Max how good they sounded.
Made complete sense now.
I knocked on her door and waited. Soft footsteps approached, and I held my breath until she pulled open the door. A gasp left her, like she was shocked I would come to her room. Had I really been that distant?
“Dinner will be here soon,” I offered.
“No one’s cooking?” Her head tilted to the side.
“We don’t always cook,” I pointed out, and I willed my eyes to look at her face and not travel to her stomach.
“But you’ve never bought food.” She arched a brow. “What’s the occasion?”
I don’t know little Belle, why don’t you fucking tell me?
I held that thought in. Barely. “No occasion.”
“Oh.” She did that thing with her lip that was pure torture. “I know you have a schedule, but do you think?—”
She stopped talking, letting the word hang. “Do I think what?”
“I know if I asked Ace, he would tell me no. And Mercer is suspicious because Ace made him that way, but…”
“Why would you ask them, and not me?” I wondered.
“I-I don’t see you.” She took a step back, as if giving me a fact I was just now realizing was an issue would cause me to explode.
“Are you afraid of me?” My voice was softer this time.
“Should I be?” Her lashes batted before she looked into my eyes.
“You should be afraid of a lot of things in this world, Belle, and this world should fear us. But never you.”
It took her a long moment before she nodded. “Okay.”
“What were you going to ask?” I prompted.
“Do you think I could cook too, or help? Ace moves every knife I get close to.” She fidgeted in place.
“Does he have a reason to do so?” I wanted the truth, and only that.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I could see why he is suspicious. But your home has been nothing but kind to me. I wouldn’t cause you harm.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay?”
“If Ace is worried, he can do a regular knife count.”
“Thank you.”
Thanking me? For such a little thing as telling her she could cook. It was ridiculous. “This is your house,” I pointed out. “You never needed permission.”
“It’s just…”
The way this girl is always working her bottom lip. I’m surprised it isn’t permanently bruised. Without thinking, I reached up, freeing it from her assault. We stood frozen, both of us not moving or speaking, equally shocked by the touch.
Focus , I chided myself. “It’s just what?”
“My father didn’t allow me in the kitchen.” Before I could question why or point out how unreasonable that was, she rushed forward. “I would sneak in, of course, and Ms. Molly, that’s our cook, would teach me and let me help. But never when Father was around.”
What the hell type of crazy was she living with where she couldn’t use the kitchen? That made no sense and yet, I wasn’t even shocked by her confession. Her father was psychotic. “Your father is…”
I didn’t complete my sentence because I despised him, yes. He ruined my life. But she was still his daughter.
“You can say it. It’s okay. I know what type of man he is.” Her eyes were sorrowful.
“It’s not my place to speak about him to you.” I continued, “It wasn’t why I came here.”
“Why did you come?” We were still standing at her door, and a part of me wished she would invite me in, tell me all her secrets she’d been hiding. But I wouldn’t beg for something I hadn’t earned.
“I brought you this.” I handed her the box in my hand.
Her eyes lit up for a moment, then dulled at the realization that it could be used for only limited communications. “Thanks.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat that I felt lodged, preventing me from speaking. “It’s got our numbers programmed in.”
“I figured.” She nodded.
“No other numbers can be called that aren’t programmed, and everything is monitored. I’ve preloaded it with every game you could want too,” I offered, hoping that would please her.
“Thank you. That was kind.”
I ran my hand through my hair, knowing she was upset and I didn’t know how to fix it. “You can text or call any of us at any time if you need something. I’ll add Drew and Max’s numbers to the approved list later.”
“I won’t need anything,” she promised.
Why was it so damn hard to communicate with her? Every time I tried, I somehow screwed it up. “If you do…”
“I won’t.”
“Okay. Well… dinner will be here shortly.” I stepped back, took three steps away from the door before I remembered. “Oh, and call Hannah before she has every government on this planet searching for you.”
Her breath caught. Her voice was hopeful. “Hannah.”
“Yeah. I put her in there too. She seems to care about you. Don’t forget what I said about monitoring. Don’t make me remove her.”
She held the box to her chest. “I won’t, I swear.”
Then I walked away to the sound of her door shutting, followed by an echoing squeal. It wasn’t until I was back in my office that I remembered I never asked her about the appointment.
It was seven o’clock in the morning the next time I stood in front of her door and knocked. My nerves had me wired; my skin felt like it was crawling. When she answered, her hair was tousled, her eyes squinted as she looked me over, trying to figure out what was wrong.
“Nothing is wrong,” I blurted out instantly. But was that true? I still didn’t know the reason for her appointment, though one could guess. And I didn’t know how I felt about this guess.
She sighed her relief, and that made me fight a smile. Was she worried about us? “It’s still early. I thought it was something important.”
“It is important,” I stated. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out to breakfast.”
Her breath hitched. “Like, leave this place?”
I nodded. “Can I trust you enough for that?”
I had thought that maybe I could, but the way she seemed ready to bolt at the mention of stepping off my land made me a bit wary. “Of course, you can trust me. I mean… I will not run away.”
“Yet.”
She smirked. “Yet.”
“That’s good to know, because Ace and Mercer will join us for security reasons.”
Her brows furrowed. “Not just us?”
“Did you want it to be just us?” I wondered. Maybe she didn’t hate me as much as she let on?
“I don’t know.”
“I need them along,” I clarified. “We’ve got an appointment with Dr. Stevens.”
Her eyes grew wide; her hand trembled. “I?—“
“Anything I should know?” Her reaction was so intense at the mere mention of the name.
“I—“ She didn’t speak after that. Her lip trembled. What was it she feared? Surely it wasn’t my reaction? I wasn’t a complete monster, despite the look she was giving me now.
“We’ll leave around eight.” I gave her a curt nod before I closed her door and walked to my office, feeling the stare of the haunting photos looking at me.
How would Elizabeth feel knowing what I was about to do? Would she hate me for the choices I made after she was gone? For the family I took on, when all I really wanted was the one she and I created together? My stomach coiled to where I questioned if I’d be sick. I betrayed her, my wife.
No. That’s not quite right. My wife is on the other side of the house, carrying a secret, that even now she refuses to tell.
I rested my face in the palm of my hands, breathing hard as I tried to gather myself. What the hell was I doing? I’d offered her up to my best friends, offered to share her, to protect her, and now… with the new addition in the mix. I didn’t know if I was strong enough, if we were solid enough, to keep them safe.
My phone buzzed on the desk, and I watched it for a moment, deciding if I wanted to pick it up. I had meetings today, and all I wanted to do was cancel them all. When I flipped it over, it was Mercer’s name, and an illuminated message.
Mercer: Not sure what happened, but Bellamy is upset. What do we do?
Well, that took him no time at all to zoom in on my wife’s emotions. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I gave him permission to care. Hell, I all but begged him to. I just hadn’t realized he was already there.
Me: She’s upset because I reminded her about an appointment she has today, one she made prior to our marriage.
Mercer: Oh. Finally.
Finally? What the hell did that mean? Had my wife confided in him before she came to me? If so, why hadn’t he told me? He was my best friend, not hers.
Me: You knew?
Mercer: Only an educated guess. The signs were there.
What the fuck did he mean the signs were there? I saw no signs. Not a single one pointed toward the appointment she was about to have, one that still had me feeling woozy about it. But then again, I’d actively avoided her, hadn’t I? Not wanting to come to terms with how deeply I betrayed Elizabeth.
Me: We leave at eight.
He didn’t respond after that. I suspected I’d find him babying my wife, trying to brighten her day, because that’s the type of person he was. A fucking killer with a heart of gold. My suspicions were confirmed when I approached the front door where Ace stood, scowling, and Mercer stood with Belle, his knees bent to be eye level with her, talking so softly I couldn’t make out the words.
“Having fun?” I barked, annoyed that he could get so close to her while she looked at me like I would rip her heart out at any moment.
Mercer’s back straightened. “Just a pep talk.”
“Do we need a pep talk, Belle?” My voice was hard, and I instantly regretted it. When she didn’t answer, I ordered, “Belle, you’re with me. The boys will drive separately.”
“Is that wise?” Mercer questioned my orders, something he never did.
“I’ve got two guards' vehicles, one in front, one in back of us,” I informed him. “We’re protected.”
The thought of not being protected didn’t sit well. Having a repeat of what happened with my wife — only with Belle laying on the pavement, broken and bloodied, burned and lifeless, our child no longer moving in her womb — was a new nightmare of mine. I’d not let it happen. Never again.
But as we got into our vehicles, our cars set in motion, it was all I could think about. Acid clawed up my throat, fear curling so tight it stole my breath, and beside me, my young wife sat, looking frightful for her life because of me. I had no love left to give her. I’d lost that ability long ago, but her fear gnawed at me, making me feel like less of a man for causing her dread when she had nothing to worry about. I’d not harm her. I’d protect her with my life.
I just hope I do a better job now than I did five years ago.