Chapter 13 #2
My responses are getting shorter because I feel like she’s leading up to something and I want her to get to it.
She looks out the window at the passing hills and trees studded with vibrant green leaves.
I think about what I’ll do with her when we’re alone later.
How beautiful she was when we made love this morning, and how gorgeous she will be as her body accommodates our growing child.
I reach for her hand. She doesn’t take it at first, and I wonder why.
“I don’t know,” she says softly. “You guys are all so… charming and suave. You turn the heads of every woman you pass.”
“Eh,” I say with a shrug. “They know we’re filthy rich.”
I love the sound of her soft laugh. “It isn’t just that. Not every woman is into money.”
I shrug. “Maybe not all.”
“I just… well, men like you are known for taking mistresses. Of not being faithful. They consider infidelity an acceptable part of their code.”
“Men like me?” I ask, my voice harsh.
“Yeah, Lyam. Mobsters. Men in the mafia. Made men. Do your friends the Rossis cheat on their wives?”
“No.”
“What about the Montavios? I know for a fact that some of them do, the girls talked about it.”
“I don’t know about Sergio or Timeo, and those are the only ones I know.”
“So with all those gorgeous women ready to do whatever you tell them, how do you plan on staying exclusive? When it gets hard. When the baby wakes up at night wanting to be fed or when someone says something to one of our children, or one of our staff disrespects me.”
“You know exactly what I’ll do,” I respond through gritted teeth. “If we need help, I’ll hire them. I’ll buy you what you need.”
“But our child, Lyam.”
“Right. Our child is going to be perfectly fine.”
“Why?”
“Because unconventional as we might be, we love each other. No matter what happens, we’re loyal and faithful. And that child will be so, so loved.”
She swipes at her eyes and nods her head.
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t seem convinced, though, and I don’t know why. I spoke the truth to her. I told her what’s on my mind and in my heart and how I feel. And in turn, she seems more distant. Cold, even.
Why?
Is she battling a struggle all her own she hasn’t shared with me?
I imagine she’s battling lots of things she hasn’t shared with me.
I watch Cosette’s shoulders rise while she takes in a breath. We’re almost back.
“Lyam.” Cosette’s voice trembles when she looks at me. I don’t know if she’s afraid or concerned or what, but I want to get her back to safety and privacy.
I reach my hand out and place it on her knee. She calms when I touch her, and I want her to know she’s okay. “Yeah?”
We’re in the heart of the city now. Traffic thickens and the city sounds around us tell us we’re not alone.
“I want to talk to you,” she says, resting her hand on top of mine. “There are some things —”
I slam on my brakes when a car in front of us comes to a sudden halt. “Of all the fucking—"
Cosette suddenly gasps and holds her belly, both hands spanning her slender waist. When she gives a cry of pain, my heart leaps into my chest. We’re fully stopped behind a line of traffic.
“What is it?”
“I—oh God, Lyam.” Her face blanches and her eyes are so wide she’s scaring me. “I—there’s some pain.” When she looks down, she panics. “I feel like… I think I’m bleeding. Oh my God, get me to a restroom. Please!”
We’re only a block away from the pastry shop. I lean on the horn to make the cars in front of me move, but they won’t. We’re jammed in between a truck and a motorcycle, and I can’t get them to move.
“Get out of my way!” I bellow at anyone and everyone. “It’s an emergency!”
A few cars inch away, but most just stand stock-still.
I slam the car into Park. Whip off my jacket, revealing my ink, and stalk toward the car blocking us.
“Lyam!” Cosette’s crying now.
I turn to face her. “I’ve got this, baby. Breathe, Cosette.”
I reach the car in front of me.
“Listen, buddy,” the driver says as he turns to face me, cracking his window a fraction. He’s bald and about fifty, and looks like he wants to punch me. I fucking dare him. “We all wanna fucking move. If you think you’re special, fucking think again.”
“Roll down your window.”
He stares at me and snorts. “I don’t think so.”
I lean in and brace my forearms on the doorframe at the base of the window, the tat of my snake clearly visible. His eyes widen when they come to rest on it. I have a reputation in these parts and I’m not afraid to use it.
“Roll down your window,” I repeat in a voice just above a whisper as I take out my favorite gun, “or I’ll shoot it open. It gets messy, then, doesn’t it? I might accidentally hit you, or your buddy, then you’ve got a fucking broken window.”
Staring at the snake, he pushes a button. The window slides down.
As soon as it’s down I reach in and grab him by the neck. His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “This is an emergency. I’ve gotta move. Get out of my fucking way now.”
His friend slams the dashboard. “Do it. Jesus, do it.”
I release him and toss a few bills on his seat. “Here’s a tip.”
I go back to Cosette and notice blood on the seat of the car.
She openly weeps and turns away when I get back in the driver’s seat.
I reach for her knee. “Breathe, baby,” I say again, as the car in front of us peels away.
I hit the dash with my left hand and call the doctor. I tell her what’s happening.
“Meet me at the hospital, Mr. Gerard.”
We drive through the city streets as fast as I can while keeping her safe and glide into the hospital entrance within two minutes.
Seconds later, I’m running in with her. She’s sobbing quietly against my shirt.
I bark out orders to the hospital staff, trying to think of anything at all that might make this better.
Goddammit. I feel helpless and useless.
There are some things that even physical intimidation, millions of dollars, and brute force can’t control.