Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
IVY
“Everyone out. Abel, go draw up the papers.” Milton’s voice has gone flat and cold.
Those eyes that I love watch me closely as if he’s waiting for me to run again, and I’m not sure why he’s mad, but I can tell he is and trying desperately to hide it.
“Have I done something wrong?” I know I fainted and, worse, brought all these problems to his doorstep, but if it weren’t for Abel, I’d be dead right now.
“There will be no divorce. Ever.” His voice is so stern and intense that I nod, not daring to refuse him a single thing right now.
“Abel is going to come back in a few minutes with paperwork and marry us. When you’re ready, we’ll have a formal ceremony in Scotland.” The door flies open, and Abel is out of breath.
“Out of time! Sign these and stall them.” He shoves a marriage license at me and then opens his laptop and starts typing.
“What’s going on?” I sign and pass it to Milton.
“Ivelisse Figueroa, do you take Earl Weston Milton Blair III as your husband?” I glance from Abel to Milton.
“I do.” I swallow hard because I’ve heard of shotgun weddings, but this is absurd.
“Skull, same,” Milton frowns.
“I do, you fecker.” A knock comes from the door and Hamish walks in with a bunch of clothes over his arm.
“Quickly change.” Abel’s typing gets faster as raised voices come from the main clubhouse.
“What’s happening?” Milton strips off his sweatshirt and takes the clothes from Hamish.
He’s fastening a fancy-looking brooch on his shoulder when the door opens again.
“Ivelisse Figueroa?” A man in a black suit with an American Flag pin on the lapel asks me.
Before I can answer, Hamish steps forward and smiles at him.
“You will address Her Grace properly.” Milton steps closer to me and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Building secure. Bring him in.” The man in the suit speaks into his shoulder, and a moment later, Vice President Wills walks in.
“Clear the room,” he announces, but I grab Milton’s hands after a few blinks because, I’ll never be left alone with this man ever again.
“No,” Milton lets his accent strengthen his words as he looks down on the second most important man in the country.
“I beg your pardon. Do you know who I am, son?” Wills takes on an air of superiority that only scum politicians can master.
“Oh, aye. But clearly, you dinna know who I am.” Hamish steps forward again.
“His Grace Weston Milton Blair III, the fourteenth Earl of Kent, and his wife, Countess Ivelisse Blair.” Wills’s eyes bulge.
“WIFE?” He turns to me, and I look him in his evil eyes.
“Is there a reason why you are here, sir?” Milton blocks his view of me, but not before the monitors I’m still attached to start taking my vitals.
My heartbeat echoes in the room, but so do the baby’s as the machines beep and click away, recording the information for Milton to look at later.
“I need you all to come with me for questioning.” The man in black says, but Hamish once again addresses him.
“The Earl and his wife are not going anywhere. We have diplomatic immunity and will be going nowhere with anyone. Now, this is a personal family matter, and you are violating several of your own U.S. laws. I’ll show you all out.
” Hamish crowds the Secret Service agents and looks at Wills, who is not following.
“I need to speak to this woman alone. It’s a matter of national security.” This time, Abel stands and smiles.
“As Mrs. Blair’s attorney, I’m sure I can answer any of your questions,” Wills sneers at him.
“She won’t need a lawyer. She’s not under arrest.” Abel shrugs.
“It’s just a happy day that I’m here then! If you’ll follow me, Mr. Vice President, I’m sure we can find a private room to discuss any matters you feel need to be addressed.” Wills finally snaps and glares around Milton at me.
“Are you fucking sick, whore? Do I need to get my shit checked? Why are you here and not in a hospital? Ivan is going to be so happy to get you back.” Anger at his words makes me sit up straight.
“Mr. Vice President, I’d take care of how you address my wife. She is not sick, and her health is none of your business. Is there a personal reason I am not aware of that you’d think she got you sick?” Milton leans in slightly as if to hear better.
Wills swallows hard and then spins to leave.
“It was a pleasure to meet you.” Abel throws at his retreating back.
“Well done.” Milton leans in and kisses my forehead.
“This is not over by a long shot. Wills wouldn’t dare incriminate himself, but Ivan is not worried about ruining his reputation. Let’s just all be happy the asshole didn’t know what the vital signs were.” Abel falls into the wall for support.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.” Milton laughs and points at him.
“YOU ARE RETIRED.”