Chapter 31 - Henry Jr.
Chapter thirty-one
Pain surges through me as I come into consciousness.
Without opening my eyes, I know where I am.
And where I’m not. Unfortunately, I’ve been laid up broken and battered in my penthouse bed enough to know that’s exactly where I am.
To make matters worse, I know she isn’t here.
As if I need to open my eyes to witness her absence.
I can feel it. Even if I didn’t know what every room she’s been in within an hour smells like or didn’t know how the covers crumple after she’s gotten out of bed, my soul feels her absence.
Her presence is the only time it’s ever known true peace.
I squint one eye open to check on the brightness of the room, only to find John Carter leaning over the bed, staring at me. “Hey, man, how do you feel?”
“Huh?” My disappointment that it’s not my wife’s beautiful face leaning over me makes me momentarily forget about my aches.
Carter shakes his head, helping me when I try to sit up and fail. “God, that asshole got you good this time. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it, man. The doctor said you were almost gone. Said you lost way too much blood. An inch over and that stab wound in your side would’ve been fatal.”
“Stab wound?”
Sure enough, when I run my hands down my sides, I feel a bandage covering what seems like too many stitches under my left rib cage. Fuck. I’ve been cut before, sliced up a little, but he’s never stabbed me like that.
“Damn, he got me good. I don’t even remember any of it this time.”
And I don’t. The last thing I recall is going to his office and telling him that my engagement is off.
I do remember barely being able to get out that I had taken care of the contract and that the agreement between our families still stands before his first backhand landed.
After that, my memory fails me. Perhaps that’s been the missing piece all along.
If he had just beaten me closer to my death, maybe I wouldn’t have so many haunting flashbacks of his abuse.
Carter coughs at the elevator opening. “Oh, um…there’s something you should know. I—”
“Henry?”
He’s interrupted by the sound of Blanche’s call.
“We’re in here, Blanche!” he yells back to her.
“You invited her over here with me in this state?” I whisper-yell at him.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s your wife, you idiot. Of course I called her!”
“You’re lucky I’m as banged up as I am, or I would kick your as—”
“Blanche!” Carter cuts me off, hopping up from the mattress to hug my wife. “Thanks for coming. Henry’s been asking about you all morning…haven’t you?”
Cutting him one last death stare, so that he knows what's coming his way, I turn my attention to my beautiful new bride. “Of course I have, darling. Come lie with me.”
Blanche climbs on the bed before gently pulling me into her arms. “What happened to you? The last time we talked, you were telling me how you managed to get out of the engagement. Oh my God, did the Taranovs do this?”
“No, they didn’t do it, and yes, the engagement is off. Well, obviously, since we’re legally married. But the arrangement between our families is still intact.”
“Oh, thank God,” she says, her body relaxing into mine. “How did you manage that? Wasn’t this some really big, important contract?”
“Thank you for meeting with me today, Dmitri. You see, I’ve got reason to believe that Natalya’s maidenhood isn’t intact, and while I’m certainly not one to judge, well, you understand, don’t you? Men like us can’t take a wife who isn’t pure. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“I obviously understand the importance of this arrangement between our families, so I wanted to offer an alternative. We can carry on with things as planned, and let this contract carry to the next generation. My son will marry the most eligible Taranova at the time, whoever you choose.”
“Well, of course it would be my heir! We can hash out all the minor details with our lawyers.”
“Yes, yes, Father is very much aware and in agreement. I’m going to meet with him right after this to let him know the new terms.”
“Oh, you know, I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Really? The Godfather? What are you, in the Mafia now?”
Carter chokes from where he’s sitting in the corner of the room. “No, I wouldn’t go with Mafia per se but—”
Oh, he’s really going to get it when I’m healed.
“Anyway!” I take Blanche's hand, kissing her knuckles one by one until I get to her wedding band. The visual representation of our union is calming in a way I’ve never known. “It’s taken care of, darling. I’m yours, and you’re mine. For all eternity.”
“Then tell me what happened to you, please.”
“I…I don’t remember.”
“That’s true! He really doesn’t remember!”
God, I could kill him. “Carter, what are you even still doing here?”
He holds his hands up in surrender as Blanche places her hand on my face and pulls my attention back to her. “The only other place you told me you were going after the meeting with the Taranovs was to your parents' house to tell them and…Oh. Oh my God. It’s your dad, isn’t it?”
I can’t move, can’t breathe as she looks at me with a mix of horror and pity. “Blanche…”
“Your father did this, didn't he?”
I don’t respond. I can’t. How do I admit that to anyone? That I’m a grown-ass thirty-five-year-old who still lets his father beat him up? Especially my wife. She’ll never see me as a man again if she knows.
“Didn’t he, Henry?”
“Blanche—”
“It was him the last time too, wasn’t it?”
When I still don’t answer, she shoots up from the bed, making her way out the door. “If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll go ask him myself!”
I try to get up and follow her, but fuck, I can’t move. “Carter?”
John races after her, catching her right as she’s about to leave the room. “You can’t, Blanche, he’ll kill you. Trust me, it’s best to just let it be.”
“Please, love…” I reach out my hands, hoping with everything I have that she’ll fill them. “Come back to bed. Stay with me? Please? I want my family with me right now…”
My little firecracker only hesitates momentarily as she looks back and forth between John and me before conceding. She makes her way back to me with a soft smile, this time taking off her shoes and joining me under the sheets.
“I’ll stay with you,” she whispers, lacing her fingers into my hand and laying it on her lower stomach. “We both will.”
Sensing the gravity of the moment, Carter nods his head. “I’ll leave you to it. He’s all yours now, Blanche.”
“I’ll take good care of him,” she answers, with her eyes locked on mine.
I certainly can’t do all the things I would like to do with my wife, but I’m not in so much pain that I can’t kiss her perfect lips.
It’s soft, full of gentle passion and love.
We both know it can’t escalate, but for once in my life, I don’t need it to.
The intimacy of my hand resting on our child is heaven.
With my family safe in my arms, I feel like there may be salvation for my soul after all.