Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Cosette
Where am I? I don’t recognize the cream-colored walls of my room at Le Luxe. I still when I feel the warm, obviously male body behind me.
Lyam. I’m at Lyam’s.
God, I sleep hard, being pregnant.
Why is he in this bed? He left me last night, and I was so heavily asleep I never heard him return. When did he come in? Why?
And more surprisingly—is he actually asleep?
I’ve never had him in bed with me like this because Lyam doesn’t really sleep.
Plagued with insomnia, he would lie in bed with me while I slept and occasionally catch a few hours.
But right now, I can feel the slow, steady, rhythmic breathing that indicates he is indeed asleep.
I’m struck with the sudden, disconcerting realization that even if things were good between me and Lyam, pregnancy itself is not going to be all fun and games.
My body is telling me loud and clear I have to use the bathroom before my bladder explodes.
But I’m confident that if I move, I’m going to vomit.
Oh, this is gonna be fun.
I’m at war within myself, trying to figure out which is more important right now: staying completely still so I don’t vomit again, or going to the bathroom so I don’t explode. And if I do move, I’m afraid I’ll wake Lyam up. I don’t want to.
I like it when he actually sleeps. And I don’t want to fight with him anymore.
I remind myself I should hate him.
The need to use the bathroom wins. I move as slowly as I can, but soon realize moving means I need to extricate myself from his arm around my waist.
Oops.
I lift his arm.
His very big, very heavy, tattooed, and muscular arm.
How can I be thinking of sex at a time like this?
But of course the second I manage to get out of bed, I wake him.
“Going somewhere?”
Shit.
“Ladies’ room. Were you actually sleeping?”
“I took a nap, yeah.”
I wonder how long he’s been here.
We don’t speak again, yet I’m trembling when I reach the bathroom door. I open it, shut the door wishing there was a lock, and do my business. I stay in here a little longer than necessary because I don’t want to face him, not like this.
I splash water on my face and brush my teeth, but the taste of the toothpaste does me in. Nausea roils through me like bubbling lava. I fight it, but the nausea wins.
Soon, I’m on my knees, emptying my stomach.
Great.
But this time, I’m not alone. I can feel him behind me.
“No, Lyam,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Too late.”
I feel his hands at my neck, lifting my hair, when the nausea hits me again.
If I wasn’t horrified by the idea of what he’s seeing or embarrassed to be found like this, I’d think it was almost romantic.
But we’re not there.
When I’m finally done, I rest my head in my hands. Exhausted. I make it to the sink with his help and rinse my mouth. I splash cold water on my face and my clammy neck, then lean against the sink for support. When I turn to go back to bed, I face the wall of his chest.
Wordlessly, he lifts me.
I tense in his arms and open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head.
“If what you’re telling me is the truth, I’ve got a duty to honor that. If you’re carrying my baby, I’ll have to be gentler on you. I won’t let you go, but while you’re pregnant and in my possession, I’ll have to take care of you.”
In my possession.
I’m… in his possession?
I don’t want to be. I want to be free. I want to be alone.
I don’t trust him any more than he trusts me.
Though given how this started, I won’t complain if he’s trying to be gentle. “How long does this last?” he asks, when I’m sliding back into bed.
I look at him in surprise. “Nine months.” He doesn’t know this basic fact?
“No, God,” he says, and I swear I almost see him smile. “I’m not that much of an idiot. The nauseous part. How long are you nauseous?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. I’ve never been pregnant before. I guess a few weeks or something? But it varies based on the woman.”
“Right.”
Tired and weak, I blink at him while he paces in front of me. He’s wearing nothing but boxers and a tee that’s molded to his perfect physique.
I forgot how gorgeous he was.
He’s stunning when he’s dressed in a suit with a crisp white dress shirt, but the casual look highlights every casually masculine detail that makes my heart beat faster.
When there’s a knock at the door, he turns to answer it, murmurs under his breath, then comes back with a cup of something steamy that smells like mint. “My staff found this for you.” I take a sip, pleased my belly’s beginning to settle a little bit.
“You’re still my prisoner,” he says, as if to remind me that he’s not going to go too easy on me.
I sigh wearily and lean my head back against the pillow. “We’ve established that.”
“And soon we’ll find out if I’m the father.”
I smile wanly. “No. You will. Unless I was abducted by aliens and impregnated in my sleep, I already know the answer to that question.”
How will he react when he knows the truth? He’s possessive but furious.
A knock sounds at the door.
“That will be breakfast. Get under those fucking covers so they don’t see you.” I smirk to myself when I look down and see I’m wearing a tank and shorts.
“Sure thing.” I slide back under the covers and pull them up to my chin. When he opens the door, my mouth waters at the smell of freshly baked bread.
The room’s so small, I can hear every word he says. “Did you hear anything about what happened last night?”
What happened last night?
“Not much, sir, but I’ll see what I can find. There’s a rumor your family’s been mentioned on the news.”
His family? What’s going on?
“Son of a bitch.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to get her settled before I look, but thanks.”
Shutting the door, he walks over to me with a wooden tray. He grunts and points like a caveman. “I had them make you things you like. Try a little bite. It might help.”
I stare at the tray and my throat gets all tight.
While breakfast in France is a simple affair, he’s arranged to have it served the way I like it—the sliced bread toasted and spread with butter and marmalade.
The tea scalding hot with a splash of milk.
Orange juice with no pulp, and a small basket of flaky croissants served with a side of softened butter.
I could handle being a prisoner. I could handle being held against my will. But how am I supposed to handle being with someone who knows me so intimately he knows exactly what I like? It’s the worst kind of vulnerability because there’s no place to hide.
My belly aches for food, but I fear another bite of something will make me sick again.
I turn my head away.
“One bite, Cosette.”
I shake my head and press my lips together.
“Cosette,” he says warningly.
I take another sip of the mint tea and stare at him. “So now that you know I’m pregnant, you’re going to punish me by making me do things I don’t want to, like eat?”
He pulls out the desk chair and sits heavily. Leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, he looks straight into my eyes and doesn’t answer my question but asks a question of his own, in typical Lyam style.
“Am I going to make you do what you should? Yes.”
“My belly’s all queasy.”
“Then take a nibble. They said the tea would help and that you need some food to make the nausea better. Eat what sounds good.”
Okay, so those croissants are calling my name, and I am concerned that I need some food.
I take the tiniest bite of a croissant.
“Good girl.”
I can handle his anger, but I’m not sure I can handle his approval. I take a quick sip of tea to quell my nerves.
“Now that I know you’re pregnant, I want to know. Did you know you were pregnant before you were approached at Le Luxe? And if so, did that have anything to do with why you betrayed us?”
I don’t want to give him all the answers. I can’t. He’s already made wild assumptions about my thoughts and motives, and if he truly knew everything, I’m afraid he’d jump to conclusions that assume the worst about me.
I draw in a breath and take another sip of tea before I answer. I have to reluctantly admit, it’s helping.
“Yes.”
I place the mug down on the tray and sit up a little more in bed. It’s hard to remain dignified when the person you’re with just saw you praying to the porcelain gods and you’re completely at their mercy, but I do my best.
“I didn’t want to tell you I was pregnant, because I know that the baby is yours.
I was afraid that if I told you, you’d think I was trying to manipulate you.
You were right. I was on birth control. But we’re both smart enough to know that birth control isn’t completely effective, and it appears the Gerard family has excellent reproductive genes. ”
Is that a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth?
I draw in a breath and release it slowly.
“And somehow, they also knew.”
The Chabert family, rival mafia, were after Thayer’s Savannah because of what she’d seen. Hidden deep within the walls of Le Luxe, Savannah was safe with Thayer, but thanks to me, not for long.
I look away. I don’t want to tell him this part.
He’s already on his feet, pacing, his phone in a death-like grip as if he’s going to order a nuclear bomb attack if anything I tell him now gives him reason.
Oh, Lyam. Don’t you know not everything can be solved with a well-placed bullet or three?
“I told you that I was loyal to your family. You know that. And you all believed I betrayed you, because obviously, I did. I hate what I did. I don’t know how I’ll ever look Savannah in the eyes again knowing I lied to her.” My throat tightens and I can’t continue for a moment.
Still glaring, he pauses his pacing. “Are you ready to tell me why, then?”
I nod. There’s no point in hiding this from him now and if I’m honest, I want this part at least off my chest. My voice trembles when I tell him the nauseating, horrifying truth I wish I could forget.
“They knew I was pregnant. Mindy and I shared a locker at Le Luxe. You know we worked together on the same shift.”