Chapter 5 #2
“I’ll see you out, but first I need to know, how far along is she?” I ask.
“Based on the date of her last period, she’s eight weeks along.”
Either she’s lying, or this baby’s mine.
Mine.
Mine?
What the fuck is in the water at Le Luxe?
She said she was on birth control. I trusted that.
“You said you were on birth control.”
Cosette’s smug look broadens. “Thought you didn’t believe the baby was yours?”
“Whether it is or not impacts our future, mine and yours, so I have to know for sure. And you know why I don’t take you at your word.” I don’t care that she winces. I push on. “Unless you’re lying about that date, or cheated on me when we were together, then the baby is mine.”
“Oh, it’s yours alright,” she snaps. “I can tell by the way it’s making me sick already.”
Dr. Martin’s eyebrows rise before she responds.
“We’ll know soon enough. For now, follow the instructions on this sheet here, and I’ll be in touch with the results of the paternity test shortly.
” She packs her bag and heads for the door while Cosette peruses the paper she gave her.
I can’t read the smaller print but can read FIRST TRIMESTER OF PREGNANCY across the top wide and clear.
This feels surreal.
“I’d like to see you in another month.”
“A month?” Cosette and I say in unison.
There we go again.
“Why that long?” I ask her. “Don’t you have to take care of her and the baby? What if something goes wrong during that time?”
“There’s nothing to do now but make sure she’s nice and hydrated, eats well, and gets plenty of rest. Of course, if there are any concerns, or you have any symptoms on that sheet, you can call me directly at any time.
” She hands us both a little business card with her name emblazoned on the front.
“Normally I’d have you call the front desk, but when I work for the Gerard family, I have a direct line. ”
Good.
That’s something, anyway.
After she’s gone, Cosette and I stand alone in the room, staring at each other. She stifles a yawn, her eyes watering.
“I told you,” she says quietly. She blinks and turns to the bed, sinking onto it.
I pull out the chair at the desk and sit.
We don’t talk again for long minutes. What should be happy news feels like weighted bricks in my stomach.
“I didn’t want you to… hurt the baby,” she whispers before she averts her eyes. “That’s the only reason I told you.”
I blow out an angry breath. “If what you’re telling me is true, then I deserve to know the truth.”
“Do you?” She tips her head to the side.
“And why would I tell someone who doesn’t believe a word I say?
Why would I trust someone who doesn’t actually give a shit about my well-being?
I half expect you to chain me to the bed, force-feed me prenatal vitamins, demand I get a C-section when I’m full term, and then take the baby for yourself. ”
I stroke my chin. “Those are actually some good ideas.”
“Lyam!” She grimaces and turns away. “Please. Leave me. I’m so tired.”
I get to my feet.
“We’ll talk about this more tomorrow. Don’t think for a minute that you’re no longer my prisoner. This changes nothing.”
Fuck, it changes everything.
“Right,” she says on a yawn, lying back on the bed, her eyes closing.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened.”
When she doesn’t respond, I look more closely at her just before she lightly snores. I stare at her. She fell asleep just like that? Well, she is pregnant, which likely means she’s probably exhausted.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with her, but keeping her prisoner until she gives birth might be my only choice.
I look around the room and don’t see what I’m looking for. She’s asleep on top of the blanket, and I don’t want to wake her. She might be my prisoner, but she’s a pregnant prisoner, and those two things don’t seem to go hand in hand very well.
Jesus.
I find a spare blanket in the closet and open it up, laying it over her. No need for her to get cold, not when she’s carrying a baby that could be mine.
I check the windows.
I check the locks.
Then I leave, and head to my room.
I wish I could call my brothers. I can imagine how a call to Thayer would go.
“How’s our prisoner?”
“She’s fine,” I begin. “She’s pregnant, too.”
“What? Motherfucker. Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I did the first thing you’d have done, and called a doctor.”
“Any idea who the daddy is?”
“Waiting on a paternity test, but if I’m honest about what I think? You’re talking to him.”
I can’t do that, not yet. Not until I know.
My room’s five times the size of hers, the biggest room in the house, and for good reason. This is my bachelor pad. If I bring anyone here, it’s a woman, and I want a nice, comfortable place to go.
Not that I’ve brought anyone here since Cosette.
I hate that Cosette’s betrayed us and she’s down the hall from me. I hate that I’ve signed up for this, but I hate even more the thought of anyone else putting their hands on her. I’d have to kill them.
Why does this change her betrayal?
She said she had to tell me, because she was afraid if I hurt her, I’d hurt the baby.
But is there another reason she had to tell me?
Why didn’t she want to tell me?
I’ve got more questions than answers as I pace the room, but I’m exhausted.
I strip out of my clothes and when I’m heading to the bathroom to wash up, I pull out my phone and check my messages.
Three from Thayer and three from Fabien.
I purse my lips together and shake my head. If they found out already, then Dr. Martin isn’t trustworthy at all—
Fabien:
Are you alright?
Fabien:
Lyam, tell me you’re alright. I can’t get in touch with anyone at your home. Are you okay?
Why does he want to know if I’m alright?
Thayer:
None of us can reach you. Maman is safe. Are you alright?
Now I’m wide awake. Why do they want to know if I’m alright? I call Thayer and Fabien on a three-way call.
“What the hell happened?”
“God, it’s good to hear you,” Thayer says, obvious concern in his voice. “There was a shooting at the Louvre. My sources say it was an unidentified assailant who killed himself. Our security said Maman was nearby recently and is home safe now, and asleep. Our guards will brief her in the morning.”
God. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in France. I can’t imagine why this happened.
I scrub a hand across my brow. Fabien speaks up next. “The shooting was half a mile from where you are and it’s clear it’s unrelated to anything having to do with us. We know that. Still…”
“It can’t hurt to be safe. We’re fine, I’ll let you know if there are any changes.”
I didn’t hear it because her room is soundproof.
I pull up the app to check Cosette.
Still fast asleep.
Either I’m going to check the app every ten seconds all night long to make sure she’s safe, or I’m going to march my ass back to that room and watch over her myself.
I’m in boxers and a tee as I open the door to my room and head down to Cosette’s. Sometimes a shooting’s a diversion, sometimes it’s a warning.
I would know.
My security personnel have all gone to bed, but our security measures are all in place. Nothing’s been triggered. If anyone stepped foot on our property, I’d know in seconds.
I open the door and find Cosette’s still fast asleep. She doesn’t even move when I check in on her.
I check the windows.
Fine.
The bed’s barely big enough for me, never mind the two of us, but I don’t care right now. I climb into bed beside her and pull the covers up over both of us.
It feels right.
I don’t sleep all night like most people, but usually nap. My mind never allows me to rest long enough to sleep.
But now that I’m next to her… I remember.
I remember what it was like to hold her, to have her by my side like this. The soothing, whiffling sounds of her heavy breathing tell me she’s calm and at rest. Soon, my breathing begins to match hers.
I developed insomnia recently. Even lying in bed, my mind races and I’m wide awake.
I stifle a yawn.
It’s been a long day, though. I’m exhausted.
I’m only going to stay here to make sure she’s safe.
I close my eyes. It’s warm in here. God, Cosette’s a damn furnace. Do pregnant women run hot?
Pregnant.
I imagine a baby inside her.
My baby.
Why was there a shooting nearby? Does it have anything to do with us?
Is this my baby?
I yawn, my eyes still closed.
How can I punish her without harming the baby?
I don’t care who I’ve killed or what I’ve done, I don’t love the idea of keeping a pregnant woman prisoner, and if she’s pregnant with my baby…
What will I do with her?