Chapter six #2
“When I couldn’t find you, I called the doctor. I vaguely remember you mentioning an appointment during one of our boring phone calls. After the dozy receptionist confirmed you had been in, I told her I was concerned for your mental health. You being pregnant made your well-being a primary concern,
and money can convince anybody to answer questions they shouldn’t. Whose baby is it?”
he asks, his mouth only inches from mine.
The voice that used to whisper loving words has turned violent. Evil.
“What?”
“Who’s the father?” he growls. “It can’t be me. We always used protection. This is a disaster I was determined to avoid. Who were you fucking behind my back?”
He leans toward me, applying more pressure to my body with his.
His nose tip sits on mine, nasty eyes surveying my face for evidence of any deceit.
“No one!” I whisper, devastated once more at the change in a man I loved, one I had planned a future with.
“Liar! Was it your personal trainer? One of your weird friends from acting class? Who the hell was in my bed?”
“I was.” Harry’s voice breaks through the fear and terror coursing through me. Aiden stills and turns his head in the direction of the words. “The baby is mine,” he confirms bluntly.
“Yours?” Aiden snarls. “Please do tell me how you managed to knock my whore up in Chicago when you live in London, Waite.” They glare at each other. I’m alarmed that they know each other on sight.
“You aren’t the only one who can jump on a plane, Marley. You playing happy families with your wife gave us plenty of time to enjoy one another.”
Harry flashes the other man a wicked smile.
He looks completely at ease standing in the middle of his living room in only his towel.
His hair is freshly washed, his skin still glistening with water.
Determined eyes move to me, his expression never changing, then return to the man holding my throat.
“I would appreciate it if you could release and move away from what is mine,” he says.
Over his shoulder there is a tattoo of a tiger—it spreads down onto his chest.
In its mouth, it carries a flower, a violet.
The pattern can be easily hidden by a buttoned shirt, but now I can see the stripes that peek out occasionally from his neckline.
He stands tall, never taking his focus from the other man.
As the seconds pass, his eyes darken. “As I said, Marley. Please move away from my woman and child. I won’t ask you again.”
Aiden adjusts his grip fractionally, then resumes pushing me against the wall, prodding at my stomach with his other hand.
“This asshole,” he roars. “This is whose offspring you’re breeding. Your standards have lowered somewhat, Princess. Imagine choosing a pauper over me. A whore’s son who only ended up where he is by charity.”
The pressure is removed from me abruptly. When I glance up, Harry has Aiden in a chokehold and is pulling him backward in the direction of the door to the apartment; his captive’s arms flail around in an attempt to hit his attacker.
As they reach the door Aiden twists his body, taking Harry by surprise.
He stamps on his bare foot and spins out of his grip, then uses a shoulder to slam him against the solid wood.
The noise of the collision reverberates around the room, and another book falls from the shelf beside me.
Miraculously, Harry’s towel remains in place.
I watch in horror as Aiden’s arm draws back, then punches his opponent square in the stomach.
A gasp of air bursts from Harry’s lips. His expression changes immediately from annoyed to furious.
Harry lifts his hands to the other man’s chest and pushes him away with force.
Aiden steps back, but his heel catches the edge of a rug causing him to fall.
He grabs Harry’s wrist and pulls him down too.
The two men roll around the floor, punches thrown in all directions.
Harry’s towel doesn’t survive this part of the altercation and is left lying on the apartment floor next to them.
My eyes roam around the room, looking for something to intervene with and stop the ensuing madness.
A small China vase decorated with pink flowers and a silver lid sits on the shelf next to the now disturbed books.
Without thinking, I grab it from its resting place and smash it across the back of Aiden’s head as he has Harry pinned to the floor by his throat.
The porcelain shatters, and a cloud of what seems like dust fills the space, falling over both men.
Aiden splutters and rolls off his victim.
Harry takes the opportunity to stand and grab him into a chokehold before throwing him out of the door.
I crumple to the ground once more as Harry ejects him from the apartment. “I said hands off.” I hear Aiden’s body hit the floor outside. There is a gaggle of raised voices in the hallway. Harry is shouting something at who I assume are security guards. His fury is evident.
“How the fuck did that bastard get in here?”
he bellows. “I’ll be having someone’s balls. Tell Matthew to be here at six o’clock tomorrow. I want fucking answers. Get that asshole out of here, now.”
The door slams closed. He appears in front of me moments later.
He leans down to pick up his towel and wraps it around his waist.
His dark hair and bare skin are speckled with gray dust.
I’m curled in a ball against the wall, head in my hands, sobbing furiously.
“Violet,” he says softly, crouching down beside me.
His hand touches my shoulder. I peek up at him through tear-filled lashes, ashamed, embarrassed, and at a loss as to how I’ve ended up here.
A concerned expression highlights his face.
The confident lawyer has been replaced by a man not sure what to say.
“I’m sorry, I’ll go. This isn’t your issue to deal with. I’ve brought too many problems to your door.”
“You’re pregnant,” he says, ignoring my outburst. It’s a question but said as a statement. “Is Aiden the father?”
“Of course he is,” I wail, brushing his hand from my shoulder and pushing myself up to stand. He rises too, dominating my space. He’s tall above me—his gaze locks with mine.
I snap my eyes away, not wanting to have this conversation. Telling anyone about the baby had not been top of my priority list. Now, it’s been blown into the open in front of the person who confuses me more than anyone, whose opinion of me, at this point, feels the most important.
“Vi, look at me.” His hand cups my chin and lifts my eyes to his. He smiles softly. “It’s going to be all right. You’re safe here with me.” I giggle unexpectedly as I look at him, and he frowns.
“What was in that vase?” I ask him. “It’s everywhere.”
“My cat,” he replies with a smirk. “Jasper always was getting into places he shouldn’t.”
My hands lift to my mouth when I realize I smashed the remains of his pet over Aiden’s head. The situation is nothing but obscene, and I’m at a loss as to what to say.
“It’s okay, Vi. Jasper wouldn’t have felt anything.” He smiles again to reassure me. “The old cat would probably have enjoyed being the hero to be honest. He used to scratch and hiss at any visitors. He was a guard cat.” I laugh out loud, then fall silent. He reaches for my hand, taking it in his.
“Why did you tell him you’re the father?” I ask him, still in shock at the fact he did.
He takes a deep breath before speaking, his chest expanding and contracting. My eyes move to the tiger with the violet on his shoulder. He follows my gaze with his own.
“It means what you think it does. I’ve got you,” he whispers before dropping his mouth to my forehead.
I close my eyes, letting the moment wash over me.
He draws back, and I raise my palms to his chest, the feel of his still-damp skin beneath my fingers.
“I’ve got both of you.” Our fingers intertwine, then he tugs me toward the sofa as he walks backward.
“You sit here,” he says, gesturing to the seat. “I’ll go and rinse off again.”
After what feels like hours, he returns showered and wearing only his shorts.
He drops down beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
We sit together, my body curled around his almost naked one.
As the minutes pass, my anxiety subsides.
Being here with him makes me feel safe. I wriggle onto his lap, needing to be surrounded by him.
A film that has been playing in the background finishes—we must have been sitting like this for an hour, but I haven’t noticed.
Time with Harry is fluid. I enjoy him so much that it disappears.
He is a sanctuary for me to be at peace within.
So little time spent together, so much emotion between us undiscussed.
My old feelings are reawakening with each breath.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, looking at our uneaten meal which sits on the counter, cold. He glances at me, and his eyes fire with arousal.
“Not hungry enough to stop what is going to happen now,” he says.
My breathing hitches, my brain joins the dots.
He wants me. The look is the same one from that afternoon in my childhood bedroom—the carnal need for my body to be joined with his obvious.
“Shall we go to bed? I think we both need this tonight. I know I need you.”
“Okay.” It’s all I can say, both excited and terrified at the prospect of being with him again. He encourages me to my feet, then rises before taking my hand and tugging me in the direction of the bedrooms.
We arrive at his room; he pushes the door open. It is similar to the one I’m staying in, a bed draped in silk and filled with high-end furnishings. He walks me over to the bed, turning my body gently and maneuvering me to stand at the edge. The backs of my knees connect with the sheets.
With his limited clothing, I can see him fully.
He’s trimmed and toned with definition in all the right places.
A dark trail starts at his belly button and leads beneath his shorts.
He pushes the fabric down, letting it fall to the floor.
His cock hangs between his legs, hard. I glance up at him, and he smirks.
“You’ve seen me,” he whispers darkly, “now I want to see all of you.”
He grabs the hem of the summer dress I’m wearing and lifts.
I raise my hands above my head, allowing him to remove the cotton from my body.
It drops to the floor in a pool of pale blue.