by Andrea Joy
With his hand still in my hair, he marches us up the stairs and into in the master bedroom. Once inside the large room, he shoves me toward the bed, letting go of my hair when I fall forward face first onto the mattress.
I whimper and my body trembles in fear when cool fingers curl into the V cut of the dress at my back. The sound of the material ripping is like nails on a chalkboard in the quiet room. The slide of a zipper being undone is my every worst nightmare coming to life, and then when something rubs against my slit, I freeze.
“No, wait. This wasn’t part of the deal,” I shriek, trying to wiggle away but his hand clamps down on my lower back, pressing my body further into the King-size mattress.
“I’m tired of waiting, Sofia. It’s been weeks since the wedding and I plan on sealing this deal tonight. I get to do more to this body than just feel your mouth wrapped around me,” he growls, beginning to push inside me.
My fingers curl around the comforter and I squeeze my eyes closed, before the words leave my lips.
“I’m pregnant.” It’s a horrible lie. One I’m ashamed of. I always hated when people would post jokes about being pregnant on April fool’s day, but I couldn’t stop it when it crossed my tongue.
His movements instantly still, but I dare not breathe a sigh of relief just yet. If he’s the kind of man I think he is, then he won’t allow himself to go any further. Not if there’s a possibility that the woman he’s fucking is pregnant with another man’s baby. Simon curses, withdrawing from my body and pushes away from me, the clanking of the metal on his belt echoes in the quiet of the room. His feet padding back across the carpet floor adding to the melody, and then the door slams closed with him on the other side. Only when I hear his footsteps bound down the stairs and the door to garage door open and close do I allow myself that relieved breath. I’m not a fool, though. It might have stopped him tonight, but it won’t forever. Now that I know Simon has no intention of holding to his end of the deal, I need to make my own plans and fast.
First things first. I slip the tiny burner phone from my bra, thankful that I was able to stop him before he found it and dial the one number, I made myself memorize before Simon destroyed my phone.
“Hello?” the rough voice on the other line asks.
“I need your help.”
There’s silence before they let out a cursed breath.
“Can you get away?” They ask.
“He just left, but I don’t know for how long.”
“Fuck. Okay, find a computer. One he uses a lot and send me something from it, but I need you to cover your tracks… like I showed you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Do you trust me?”
Trust. Five letters that mean so much. It seems to come so easy for some and others go their whole lives never knowing anyone worthy enough of the word. But I don’t have a choice now, do I? If I want to make it out of this alive and save the life of the man I love then I have to put my trust in someone I haven’t seen in years.
“Yes.”
I take in a deep breath and blow it out slowly while resting a hand on my belly, the dress I wore to dinner still hanging open at the back and the giant wedding ring glittering in the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I’m still not used to the monstrosity Simon insisted on putting on my finger.
“How is he?” I ask, letting the dress pool on the floor at my feet.
“He’s good. He misses you.”
“I miss him too,” I say on a choked sob, standing in the middle of Simon and I’s bedroom.
“Be careful, Sofia,” the voice says, then hangs up.
Kicking the red dress to the side, I go in search of my clothes and pull out a pair of sweatpants and an oversize t-shirt from my suitcase and throw them on, putting my hair in a bun atop my head and rush downstairs to Simon’s office. His computer wasn’t password protected the last time I was here, and I hope he didn’t suddenly get the bright idea to change that now.
He didn’t.
I’m able to easily follow the instructions I learned years ago in California and successfully cover my tracks after sending off the information requested of me. Once I’m done, I tiptoe out of his office - not sure why since I haven’t heard him come back yet - and head into the kitchen for something to drink.
Simon comes back a couple hours later, and he’s not alone. A woman in bright blue scrubs trailing behind him. She seems like she’d rather be anywhere else but here and I don’t blame her. Her shoulders are rounded in and she keeps her eyes downcast as she follows Simon into the kitchen.
“This is Tennille,” Simon introduces her, waving an arm in her direction, his gaze locked onto me.
It’s unnerving having his full attention and not in the I-want-to-rip-your-pants-down way that having Mason’s full attention is unnerving. I look over my coffee mug at him with a questioning eyebrow raised. He introduced her like I should automatically know why she’s here. Thankfully, he doesn’t keep in suspense for long.
“She’s here to administer your test.”
I sputter on my coffee and put my cup down, wiping at the liquid that crippled out of my mouth and down my chin. “I’m sorry, what? What test?”
“Your pregnancy test. Tennille is a nurse at Toronto General.”
Oh fuck. Oh no. What the fuck have I done? This can’t possibly be happening.
Simon takes my silence as a chance to move closer, caging me in and ignoring the fact that we’re not alone. He runs his nose up the curve of my neck, breathing in deep through his nose when he gets to just below my ear.
“You didn’t think I would just take your word for it, did you?” He grips my hip. This thumb rubbing back and forth across the small patch of skin between the waistband of my sweats and tank top. His other hand fisting the hair at the back of my neck and yanking my head back. “If I find out you’re lying to me, Sofia, there will be consequences. Understand?”
My eyes snap behind Simon to Tennille. A blush paints her cheeks red, but her face is still angled down, her arms hanging in front of her as she holds a bag. I need to get her on my side, to somehow convince her to tell him that the test is positive. Simon’s grip in my hair tightens, pulling my attention back to him.
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” He releases me and I slump back against the counter, willing my legs to not give out on me yet. Simon turns back to Tennille but doesn’t move from his position in front of me. “As soon as the result shows up, I want to see it.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies.
“I’ll be in my office,” he says, grabbing an apple from the basket of fruit on the dining room table and sauntering out of the room.
I blow out a breath, pushing my hair back behind my ears and look at Tennille. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I can just come up with some excuse about why we can’t show him the results.”
She does lift her face now, an apologetic smile on her thin lips. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Mendoza gave strict instructions.” She glances away briefly, and I can see her throat working with a swallow. “He doesn’t leave much room for argument.”
The way she acts around him and coupled with her last statement makes me think that I’m not the only one he’s blackmailed. If I can figure out what he has against her or is threatening her with then maybe, I can get her to trust me and we can both help each other out.
With a reluctant sigh, I refill my coffee and start leading the way up the stairs to the main bedroom. Tennille hands me the box with the pregnancy test and when I turn to enter the bathroom she’s right there.
At my questioning stare, she shrugs. “I’ve been told to watch you take the test.”
“Seriously? What, does he think I have a stash of urine samples from pregnant women that I might use?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just doing what I’ve been ordered to do.”
I curse but let her follow me into the bathroom. It’s a little weird having someone watch you pull down your pants and hold a stick b
etween your legs while you try to pee on it and not on your fingers. This whole thing is ridiculous.
You wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t lied to the man. I roll my eyes at myself and tell my subconscious to shut up. I also wouldn’t be in this situation if I had told Simon to go fuck himself and was honest with my cousin. But you live and learn, I guess.
I recap the pregnancy test and place it on the counter then go about wiping and pulling my pants up before flushing. All the while Tennille is standing inside the door watching me like a fucking Hawk. Seriously, the woman didn’t even turn around so I could wipe! After washing my hands, I dry them on the towel hanging from the rack on the far wall and then lean a hip against the counter, folding my arms across my chest. We both stare at the plastic stick just lying there. I don’t know why she’s starring but I’m hoping that I stare harder the results will somehow change in my favour. It’s a useless task, but a girl can hope.
When one minute has passed, I start tapping my foot on the tile floor and chewing the cuticle on my thumb. My nail girl is going to hate me, but I couldn’t care less right now. At one and a half minutes, Tennille steps more fully into the bathroom and peers over at the test. I already know what she sees but I’m still hoping by some miracle that it’ll say the opposite. However, when she glances up at me from the corner of her eye, I know it doesn’t.
I laugh nervously, “So, here’s the thing…” I trail off losing my nerve.
Before I can come up with another lie or something to say that’ll get her to take my side against Simon, she surprised me by saying, “It could be a false negative. We’ll take a blood sample to be sure.”
I blanche when she places her bag on the counter and pulls out one of those tubes, they use to take blood, a needle, and one of those rubber band things. “We’re doing it here. Right now?”
She pauses with the rubber band in her hand as she waits for me to give her my arm. “You want to tell him you lied to him?” She asks, her lips twitching with a smug grin. Touché.
“No,” I huff and hold out my arm for her. I watch her curiously as she searches for a vein on the inside of my elbow and then goes about securing the band once she’s satisfied, she’s found one. “Why are you doing this?”
She shrugs, opening the needle and getting it ready before swiping my skin with an alcohol wipe. “Men like Mr. Mendoza think they can get away with anything. They don’t like when someone challenges them.” She pushes the needle in, and I try not to flinch at the momentary pain. I hate needles, which is funny because I’m half covered in tattoos, but it’s a different kind of needle. “Plus, I suspect this is the last place you want to be, and maybe this is the only thing you have protecting yourself from him?” She phrases it like a question, but I have a feeling that its anything but.
Tennille presses a cotton ball at the spot where the needle meets skin and slowly withdraws it. “Put pressure on this,” she instructs, and I do.
“Thank you,” I say, watching her go about cleaning up.
She puts the used pregnancy test as well as the used needle into a plastic bag and shoves it deep into her bag. The box she dumps into the bathroom garbage. “I’ll dispose of this in a sharps container at work,” she says, indicating her bag and the needle within it. Tennille doesn’t stick around long enough for me to say anything, she just heads out the bathroom door to the master bedroom and then downstairs.
I follow her as far as the top of the stairs. I hear her telling Simon that the test was inconclusive, I’m not even sure how true that is, but I suspect it’s not likely. Then she says she took a blood sample to be tested at the lab, and that he’ll have the results within a couple days. I’m pretty sure she said that more for my benefit than his, letting me know that I have two days to figure something out before Simon finds out the truth and things turn ugly.
Two days.
Two days to figure a way out of this hell hole.
Chapter Twenty-Six
SOFIA
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
I startle, gripping the towel tighter around my body as my hair drips down onto the plush mat beneath my feet. Simon is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning a shoulder into the door jam, his hands lazily tucked into the pockets of his slacks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, turning back to the mirror and swiping a hand through the fog.
Simon moves in closer until he’s pressed against my back, his fingers trailing down my arms, his face dipped into the crook of my neck. “Your little stunt yesterday isn’t going to hold me off for long.” He presses his hips closer until I can feel the outline of him through the material of the towel. “And you just guaranteed that she won’t be around to see her son graduate kindergarten.”
I gasp, turning in his arms, momentarily forgetting how close he is. “You can’t. Simon, please.”
“Hmm, I love hearing you beg.” His hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat and forcing my face up. “Do it again,” he rasps, grazing the tip of his nose up along my jaw to nip at my earlobe.
“You can’t kill her. She was just trying to help me,” I wheeze out when his grip tightens.
“That’s exactly why I can and will. Unless… unless you beg me.” His tongue dart out to lick a stripe up the side of my face and I have to try not to visibly flinch.
“Please… please don’t kill her,” I beg. I know it’s not what he meant when he told me to beg, but I’m not that desperate enough to beg him to fuck me to save myself. I’d rather die.
Simon stills, his grip around my throat squeezing for a fraction of a second before he releases me and takes a step back. “One day soon you’ll be begging me for so much more.” He licks his lips, his eyes roaming down my towel covered body. “I can’t wait to see how you bleed for me. Can’t wait to see that body decorated with my marks.” When his eyes lift to my face again, his eyes are cold, colder that I’ve ever seen them before. “I will spare her life for now, but her life is in your hands now, Sofia. One wrong move and that’s another death you can add to your conscience. I’m going to the office. I’ll be back later, and I expect you to be more agreeable when I get back.” With that he turns and saunters out of the bathroom. A couple minutes later I hear the door to the garage open and close and then a car revving before disappearing down the driveway. Only when I hear the loud engine fade to nothing do I let myself relax and lean most of weight against the counter behind me.
I’ve just barely made it back to the stairs from refilling my wine glass when the front door explodes open like someone roundhouse kicked it off its hinges.
I scream and duck down against the railing. Yeah, because hiding behind a wooden banister would save your ass, Sof. Shaking my head, I ran back up the stairs and towards our bedroom, still hunched over. If I can just get inside, I know Simon must have a gun hidden somewhere. He took mine as soon as we were back in the car before I confronted Mason outside of his house all those weeks ago. It’s just one more way for Simon to control everything I do.
I’m just reaching out for the doorknob on our bedroom door when a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist from behind and lift me off the floor. Screaming, I try to kick back, hoping to hit him in the chins. I lose the hold on my wine glass and it falls to the carpet with a dull thud, its red contents spilling over the cream colour. I throw my elbows back too and try to twist out of his hold. I was tired before, but adrenaline has kicked in and there’s no way I’m giving in and making it easy for this intruder to kill me. If Simon wants me dead, he’ll have to do his own dirty work.
“Fucking H Christ! Quit it!” A deep, rough voice commands behind me.
I momentarily pause in my attempt to get free because holy frack, that voice. If that voice wasn’t attached to the man currently trying to kill me, then well… I know what women mean when they say their ovaries exploded.
“Fuck you. Let me go!” I try to throw my head back in hope of breaking his nose but there’s nothing
but air. I growl. Bastard moved.
His arms tighten around my middle until I can’t move and am forced to still my movements. It literally feels like I’m being pressed up against a brick wall. Shit, what does this guy bench press? Those can’t be real muscles. Ugh, stop thinking Sofia. Your attempted killer does not have a killer body.
“Not until you calm the fuck down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I snort. “No, just kill me.”
I feel his chest expand and deflate against my back with each deep breath in and out he takes. He’s quiet for several beat and then rests his head against my shoulder. “I’m not trying to kill you.” His words are so quiet that I barely hear them, but surely, I didn’t hear him say…
“What?” I ask, trying to twist around to get my first look at his face, but then his hold tightens again, and he groans by my ear.
“Jesus H. Stop moving.”
“Wha- Oh.” My breath hitches and I immediately still my movements. I guess that wasn’t a pen in his pocket. “Are you serious right now? You just met me!”
“Yeah, Princess, and you’ve been wiggling that tight body against me. What did you think was going to happen?” He blows out a steady breath and then he’s setting me on my feet and letting me go. “Ciaran’s going to kill me.”
Ciaran?
I turn around to face him and curse myself. Why the frack did I do that? He’s hot. Not in the big, muscly, can’t wipe my ass way. But in the lean, toned, swimmer’s way. It’s obvious he works out, but it’s not in your face. His arms are toned and defined, and his biceps look like they’re about to split the stitching in the t-shirt he’s wearing. His legs are long and lean in those black jeans. And he’s tall. So god-fracking tall. He towers over my 5’6” height easily by at least half a foot. Where Mason has the salt and pepper thing going on in his hair now, this guy has dirty blond hair shaved on the sides and a little longer on top. He runs a hand through his hair and turns the brightest set of green eyes on me.