Abigail waved at Joe who opened the door for her without protest. “Mr. Trice’s in his office, Mrs. Bennett,” he willingly informed her.
His office, she smiled at the thought.
Abigail followed dark steps that led to the third floor. She turned left, then right, and stopped in front of a door—his office door. It was the same threshold she’d crossed when she’d agreed to be his without fully reading the contract she’d signed.
She inhaled a breath, gathered her Super Woman courage, and pushed open the door. Mrs. Sinclair would’ve died a thousand times had she seen her lack of manners. But she followed through with her plan, knowing if she’d knocked, Preston wouldn’t have let her in.
“We need to—” Abigail came to a halt. The speech she’d prepared earlier flew out the window when she saw Preston wasn’t alone in the room.
A man she’d never seen before, sat next to Preston in one of the armchairs. He was dressed similarly to Preston’s casual jeans and t-shirt. A glass of bourbon hung from the tips of his long fingers.
Shit. Had she interrupted a BDSM meeting?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company,” Abigail said, lowering her gaze submissively.
“You must be the infamous Abigail,” the man said as he stood and offered his hand.
Abigail looked at Preston who stared at her in pure shock. Reluctantly, he nodded.
She shook the stranger’s hand. “I’m Dai Davis.”
“Abigail Bennett,” she said, raising her gray eyes to his brown ones.
Dai was a handsome man. Tall and muscular with a well-defined curve to his lips. His cheeks rested high below his eyes. If he smiled too much, his eyes would slightly close.
He wrapped a strand of Abigail’s hair around his finger. “I was sure he’d made you up,” Dai said. “I was wrong. You’re as beautiful as he described you to be.”
Abigail couldn’t help it and let out a chuckle. Compliments weren’t her thing. If a man wanted to get her in bed, he’d have a better chance if he showed her what he could do with a whip.
“You may go now,” Preston said, filling the room with his commanding voice. His nostrils flared like a hungry wolf preparing for a chase. “Kenneth will take you home.”
“Don’t be a sour patch, Preston,” Dai said, retrieving a pack of chocolate M&Ms from his pocket. He offered a green dot to Abigail. She politely declined. Dai shrugged as he slipped a handful of the chocolate dots into his mouth.
Preston gave Dai a look that could kill. He might’ve not been familiar with those dark narrowed eyes, but Abigail was. She knew enough to follow his order. As much as it pained her to leave without saying what she came here to say, she turned and closed the door behind her.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Kenneth was outside, waiting for her. “I’m here to take you home.”
Home? She didn’t have a home anymore. Preston was her home, and he didn’t want her. What does one have when their own home rejects them? Nothing. That’s what Abigail was left with.
Exhausted by today’s pilgrimage, she fell asleep on the backseat of the SUV.
“Mrs. Bennett, we’re home.”
Abigail let out a yawn and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Kenneth helped her out of the car and accompanied her to the elevator. She looked over at the entrance to the stairs but continued walking until she met with the doors of the elevator. Kenneth pressed the up button for her, and they stood in silence until the doors were ajar. She was frozen in place, but Kenneth wouldn’t dare leave her side until she was inside the elevator and heading up.
“I’ll just take the stairs.”
He stepped in front of her and stopped her before she took another step.
“I’m only following orders, Mrs. Bennett,” Kenneth said, not quite meeting her glossy gaze.
Her palms began to sweat, and her heartbeat accelerated.
Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she walked into the elevator and counted each breath as it traveled to the 87th floor.
The elevator ride home felt extensive and languid.
Abigail’s clothes crawled at her clammy skin. She twisted her hair around her finger as her foot tapped furiously against the floor with an unchoreographed rhythm.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She listened to the mantra playing in her head, but it did her no good. She was running out of oxygen and the walls were closing in on her one floor at a time.
When the elevator doors finally slid open, Abigail stepped into the foyer. She instantly took off her damped clothes and pressed her hot body against the cool marble floors.
Her heart slowly calmed to its normal speed.
She felt Mr. Grey push at the soles of her feet with his nose, but she was too exhausted to move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Preston swept his hair back and twisted his wrist to look at his watch.
2:00 AM.
Was Abigail awake—waiting for him to have that very important talk she barged into his office to have? Or would she be tucked under the bedsheets of their bed, sleeping peacefully regardless of the treacherous act she’d committed behind his back? Maybe he’d find all her things packed, an empty home with no trace of her or Mr. Grey’s obnoxious toys. Served him right after what he’d done.
He looked around the decently large sized elevator as he wondered what could make a person afraid of confined spaces. Was it an irrational fear or did Abigail have a valid reason? Although his mind wandered back, all that came to mind was that elevators made her feel icky.
As he watched the numbers ascend, the reminder of the scarring events that took place earlier today, began to burden him with an inane migraine.
Images of Abigail humping his leg, the sweet tears she’d shed that hardened his dick under the restraint of his trousers, blurred his vision. She’d been so disturbed by the punishment, but he chose to ignore her fear—her cries for help—and fed his animalistic ego instead. The sadist in him had reveled in degrading her.
His cock pulsed at the thought, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. Abigail’s fear had been tangible. He’d seen the rate at which her chest rose and fell as the elevator shrunk in her gray eyes. Yet he’d done nothing to comfort her.
The doors yawned open, inviting Preston home. He made it a few steps forward until he tripped. He had a curse at the tip of his tongue, ready to chastise Mr. Grey yet again for leaving his toys around the house but as he looked down, he was met by Abigail instead. She was on the floor in a cradle position. His heart physically compressed.
She appeared disheveled and had she laid there for any longer, the floor under her might have permanently depressed itself. Every fiber of his being told him to bend down and pick her up—offer her all his love, care, and forgiveness. Unfortunately for her, the sadist in him had him frozen in place. She needed to suffer, just as much as he had. Allowing her to do so alone was the only way she’d feel so much as a fraction of what he had felt when he found out she had aborted his child without speaking to him about it first.
He was physically battling with the two versions of himself but in the end, the husband in him took over.
Preston let out a deep sigh as he bent down to meet Abigail on the floor. He scooped his arms under her back and carried her to their bedroom.
Walking down the corridor, her scent lifted into his nostrils, and he took it all in with one extended inhale. He had missed her scent and being able to smell it whenever he pleased.
“Preston?” she asked as she was placed down on the bed.
“You fell asleep in the foyer,” he said.
She sat upright. “I’m sorry.”
“Just…” He exhaled a heavy breath. “Be careful next time.”
Abigail nodded. Determination filled her gaze. “Prest,” she said, swallowing an audible gulp. “Whatever you think I did, I didn’t. I’m still pregnant.”
Time froze for but a moment as his shoulders visibly fell.
The words she spoke melted his cold demeanor.
From the moment Preston had laid eyes on Abigail, he’d known she’d be the death of him. He just hadn’t known she’d be the one to revive him as well.
With his eyes closed, Preston collapsed onto the bed as his body began to tremble.
It wasn’t until this moment that he realized he’d spent the last ten days living in purgatory, purifying his sins to find himself worthy of becoming a father.
A father.
He couldn’t believe the thought.
Someone had to tell him he’d heard wrong. Someone please tell him he hadn’t been so callous to his pregnant wife.
He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the roots. His migraine was so intense, he couldn’t see from his left eye.
“Are you okay?” He heard Abigail ask, her voice so small as to not wanting to startle him.
Preston shook his head.
No.
He wasn’t okay.
He fucked up and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he’d created. Could he even fix it? When Abigail tried to talk to him, he had dismissed her so callously. What was there to stop her from dismissing him now? And what he’d done to her in the elevator? God! How could she ever forgive him for turning her fear into a sadistic mind game?
“It’s okay, Preston,” Abigail said.
She walked on her knees to the edge of the bed, stuck out her hand to touch him but thought twice about it.
No.
Why was she thinking twice about touching him when every ounce of his body belonged to her?
Jesus fucking Christ. He’d asked her not to touch him. Not to kiss him or breathe the air he breathed. He’d been so malicious to her. He’d said things for the sole purpose of hurting her and it had nothing to do with his sexual needs. He was a true sadist that loved to abuse women just as Abigail had said.
“I don’t understand. You never denied it…”
His emotions were soaring through his brain. He was so confused, so regretful, and elated all at the same time.
Abigail licked her dry lips. She played with her fingers as she spoke, “Remember the day I asked you to watch The Princess Bride with me? We went to the store to buy ice cream. When you were looking for a flavor to get, I bought a pregnancy test and went to the bathroom. When I saw that the test was positive, I didn’t know what to do. My initial reaction was to hide it. Pretend it wasn’t true. It wasn’t there.
“But my body already knew of the fact, and it wasn’t going to let me forget it. I woke up nauseated, throwing up all over the toilet. Maybe I should’ve told you right then, but I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t have been able to hide your excitement. How could I tell you there was a chance I wouldn’t keep it after that? Whatever decision I made, whether it was to keep it or not, I needed it to be my own. I didn’t want to get influenced to then regret my decision later. And once I decided myself, then I’d be ready to tell you.
“I went to my mom because she’s the only person who’d be neutral when it comes to this kind of thing. She didn’t sway my decision in any way, despite what you might’ve thought. Mom took me to a clinic to talk to a nurse just to be aware of all of my options. The nurse explained every one of them in grave detail. Then she left me alone in the room to think them through. I had pamphlets, flyers, and a pill that would make everything I was going through go away.
“All my life, I thought I only had one choice. I thought abortion was my only choice because I never wanted kids. After listening to the nurse, I was confused. I had so many options, but the one that was most familiar to me was to terminate the pregnancy. I’ve never seen myself as a mother, much less pregnant. I didn’t want that much responsibility. I never wanted to get married because I didn’t want to be chained to a man who’d never understand me or my needs.
“But that was before I met you, Preston. I realized I didn’t want to get married unless it was to you, and I didn’t want to have children unless they were with you. So, I thanked the nurse for her time and left. After that, I wanted to stay home with Mom because I still wasn’t ready to tell you. I needed to process the fact that I was going to be a mom, something I thought I’d never be. When you told me about your daughter and what Calista had done, my heart broke because had I not known my options, had I thought abortion was my only choice, I would have taken your child just as she took your daughter.
“Preston, I need you to know that had I chosen not to have the baby, I would’ve spoken to you about it first. I wouldn’t have had an abortion behind your back. I wouldn’t have broken your trust when I know how important trust is in our relationship. It hurt me how easily you believed otherwise.”
“But the bill…It was the same place Lauren went to when she terminated her pregnancy.”
“They don’t just do abortions in that clinic. They educate women on their choices, perform monograms, and so much more.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked.
Abigail scoffed.
“I tried. That night I wanted to tell you, but you were so hurtful, and it angered me that you actually thought some of the ignorant things you had said, so I lashed out. But I called you every day after you left. You never answered the phone. Not the hotel’s or your personal one. What you said that night about me and my mother and what you did today, really hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry…”
Abigail shrugged her shoulders as if he had nothing to apologize for, but he knew the wound he’d caused her was deep. She needed more than I’m sorrys to fix it.
“It’s okay. I knew you were mad. I was mad, too. What I said about you abusing women, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for saying that.”
He turned to face her. Her gray eyes were swollen with tears and tinted with sorrow. His bubbly wife looked destroyed—in pure agony. Had he done that to her? Was he the cause of such sorrow?
Preston scooted closer to her. With his thumb, he dried away a tear that slid down her cheek. Abigail’s bottom lip trembled under the intimate touch. It felt good to touch her. It felt heavenly to know she was here, willing to forgive the catastrophe he’d created.
He tilted her chin, pressed his lips to her ear, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Angel.”
Abigail released a profound breath and nodded. Preston caressed her cheek with his own. He leaned back and met her lips.
Abigail opened her mouth timidly as if scared he’d back away. He parted her wet lips with his tongue, and she placed a hand behind his neck to keep him steady as if making sure he wouldn’t leave her again.
She sagged into his mouth as the kiss grew deeper with passion. With that one kiss, Preston showed her how sorry he was for what he’d done, for what he’d said. And if there was ever a doubt in her mind he wasn’t remorseful, he spoke the words again and he’d say them for the rest of his life if he had to.
“I’m sorry for everything I said, for how I treated you, for leaving you, for the fucking elevator…”
“It’s okay,” she said with a smile that sent soft kisses to his heart. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”
Abigail reached for his hand and placed it on her small bump. Preston felt a swarm of butterflies under his hand.
His eyes watered.
There was really a baby inside her—his child. This one was really his. This one he’d never leave. He’d be able to touch her, feed her, bathe her, kiss her, tell her myths, scare away any imbecile who ever dared to hurt her.
“Hey, there baby girl,” he said to the small bump.
Abigail giggled as she ran her fingers through the waves in his hair. “What makes you think she’s a girl?”
“Instinct. Get dressed.” He got up from the bed and shrugged on his leather jacket.
“It’s two thirty in the morning. Where are we going?” Abigail asked as she slipped into an oversized shirt.
Always so inquisitive.
When Preston saw the shirt she’d put on covered her ass and she h
ad something other than socks under the soles of her feet, he deemed her dressed.
“Come on.”
He grabbed Abigail by the wrist and walked to the elevator all while she complained about being half naked. As he stepped inside, Abigail took a step back. Her head shook. Her eyes stayed down.
His heart ached at the sight of Abigail’s fear. She froze at the thought of having to get into the elevator. She couldn’t even fucking bear it.
Fuck!
“Angel, it’ll be alright. I promise,” he said as he stepped closer to the threshold and extended his hand.
“I don’t think I can do it again. Please, don’t make me.” Her body began to tremble. Her breathing accelerated as she grew pale.
He held his arm out to stop the elevator doors from closing as his eyes immediately darted to the stairs across the room. Without giving it a second thought, he cradled her into his arms and walked toward the exit. Taking the first step down, his train of apologies began.
He couldn’t help but ask for forgiveness again and again for what he’d put her through and all he’d had her endure out of spite. It gutted him and there was no way he wouldn’t think of his grave mistake every damn time he stepped into that God-forsaken elevator—any elevator for that matter.
With every descending step his heartbeat accelerated, and his shirt collected beads of his sweat. Although his arms began to ache holding her weight, he remained steady because he could see and feel how calm she had become cradled in his arms.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he whispered when they were both securely seated in the SUV.
Even though it was past midnight, Preston found himself weaving in and out of traffic. At night was when the streets of New York City really came to life. Tourists still roamed the streets along with taxi drivers and tipsy night goers.
The couple arrived at The Mount Sinai Hospital a little after 3:00 AM. Preston parked in the underground garage and took the escalators to the maternity section of the hospital. Behind a soft-blue oval desk, he found a nurse sipping apple juice through an orange straw.
“Excuse me, my wife is pregnant,” Preston said to her. “We’d like to see the baby.”
Leashed (Masters of Desires Book 2) Page 16