Luckily, most of the press had given up their vigil of Oliver’s home when we’d gone to France. There were still a few lingering, but at this time of night they were mostly locked up in their cars talking to their girlfriends and wives and, I imagined, trying hard to explain why they were staking out the home of a billionaire and his pregnant girlfriend.
I was able to sneak out without being noticed. I went to the garage to take one of Oliver’s cars. I assumed the garage would be empty, but, when I keyed in the code and opened the door, Raymond was standing near the open hood of Oliver’s Lexus.
“Becka! What a surprise! Can I help you with something?” Raymond looked and sounded completely confused, but I knew that he wouldn’t ask any questions that dug into why I was there.
“I need you to take me home,” I said. “Right now.”
“Certainly, Ma’am. Does…” he hesitated. “Does Oliver know that you’ve asked to be driven home?”
“I’d rather not discuss it, if that’s okay,” I said gently. I didn’t want to put Raymond in the middle of anything, and I definitely didn’t want to get him into trouble with Oliver.
I suddenly realized that Oliver may have given orders to Raymond to not drive me anywhere, and, for a moment, I looked around wondering wildly if I could run into town, or maybe, even, get a ride with a journalist in exchange for a story? Desperation built in my stomach and time seemed to stop as I waited for Raymond to respond, move, do something.
“Certainly, Ma’am,” he said finally, and he led me to the car next to the Lexus. It was sleek and black, and I had never heard of the brand. Relief flooded through me, and I got into the back of the car. The leather was soft and cool against my skin, and I realized I was sweating. We drove in silence the entire way to my apartment building. I watched the street lights get closer together and brighter as we got into the city. When Raymond turned the corner onto my block, he slowed the car and pulled over before he got to my building.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I sat up in the back seat and looked toward my building. “Oh, shit.” I saw why Raymond had stopped. The press had maybe given up on spotting Oliver and me at his place, but the same did not hold true for my building. Though it was nearly midnight, there were at least a dozen photographers positioned on the sidewalk.
“What would you like me to do, Ma’am?” Raymond asked. “The journalists won’t recognize this car, but they will, of course, recognize you once you get out.” He didn’t need to say what me getting out of a car with someone other than Oliver, even if that someone was Oliver’s driver and friend, would mean to the vultures looking for a story.
“I guess… um… just…” I hesitated, feeling my brain turning to mush. “Just take me to a hotel,” I finished. “I don’t care which one.” I heard trembling in my voice, and I leaned back and closed my eyes.
What I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position on the back seat and forget that the world around me existed. I was exhausted, and I knew that the full weight of what was happening still hadn’t hit me yet.
I opened my eyes and looked up out the window, watching the street lights… then I closed my eyes again. When Raymond pulled into the circle driveway of a Holiday Inn near my apartment, I thanked him.
“I’ll call Oliver in the morning. If you see him, please tell him not to worry.” I felt bad using Raymond as a messenger, but I also knew that Oliver would be worried, and angry, when he woke up and I wasn’t there. My hope was that he would sleep on the couch all night. If he woke up, I was sure to hear about it.
If the hotel clerk thought it was strange that a young woman was checking into a hotel room so late at night alone, looking exhausted and probably scared, he didn’t let on. He did make me pay in advance, which, of course, I did. I took the elevator to my room.
I realized as I sat on the bed that I didn’t have so much as a tooth brush with me, never mind something to sleep in or clothes for the next day. I also realized I was starving, and I grabbed the room service menu from the nightstand drawer. I looked it over, but nothing looked even remotely appetizing.
I checked my phone for a message from Oliver, and, finding nothing, I called Lisa.
“Where are you?” she asked. “Are you still at Oliver’s?”
“I’m actually at a hotel,” I said. “You were right. About my illness.” I almost laughed at the word now. “I’m… I’m pregnant.” The word sounded heavy, far more dramatic than I’d intended.
“Holy shit, Becka, are you okay?” The concern in Lisa’s voice was immediate and evident. “What hotel are you at? I’m coming to get you.”
“You can’t,” I said. “There are reporters perched around the front steps. They’ll follow you wherever you go at this time of night; they know you’re my roommate and they’ll assume you’re coming to me.
If you do manage to get out unnoticed and I come back with you, with my luck, they’ll probably smell baby on me. The last thing we need is for the press to get wind that I’m…. God.” I shook my head. I’d already said it once; I couldn’t say it again.
“I’ll come stay with you, then,” she said quickly. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight. What’s your room number?”
My first instinct was to protest again, but I thought about her words. She was right, and, at the very least, she could bring me some clothes. I gave her a list of the things I needed for that night and the next morning.
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave right away and I’ll be there in no time,” Lisa promised.
I hung up the phone and I turned on the tv. I flipped through all of the channels and didn’t find anything that could hold my attention. After a while, I looked at my phone, frowning. Lisa should have been there already. I double checked my room key to make sure I’d given her the right room number, and then, after another ten minutes, I called her phone.
It went straight to voice mail. That was strange; Lisa always kept her phone on. I began to worry that something had happened to her on the way. I tried her number again. Voicemail. I texted her.
Where are u? Are u ok?
I paced around my room, the tv on but ignored. I looked at the room service menu once more, and, again, decided against any food though I knew that I needed it, especially with another mouth to feed. While I was thinking of what to do, there was a knock at the door.
“Finally!” I said, getting off the bed and walking to the door. “I hope you brought some food with you, because I’m starving,” I said as I opened the door.
I stared, my eyes wide, at Ethan.
“You!” I burst out. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 36
Ethan
“Who was that?” I asked Lisa. I could tell by her reaction that it was Becka. I leaned in closely to her and brushed my lips against her neck. We were sitting on the couch. Lisa had crossed her legs toward me, and my hand had been warming her thigh throughout her entire conversation. Her sweet, short skirt showed off her gorgeous legs, and she’d leaned into me, tilting her head toward me so I could smell her hair, a light, crisp soap scent.
I had thought when I’d arrived at Becka and Lisa’s apartment that it might be a challenge to flirt my way into the house, but, as it turned, out, Lisa was more than willing; she was definitely a girl who liked to have a good time. When I’d arrived, she’d opened the door almost as if she’d been expecting me, and she’d invited me in right away and offered me a drink.
My primary goal, of course, was to find out where Becka was staying. I’d lost track of her, and I didn’t like not knowing where she was. But, there was no reason I couldn’t have a little fun while I was getting that information.
“It was Becka,” Lisa said. “I’m really worried about her.” She was telling the truth; worry flashed across her face, and I put my arm around her, pulling her close to me.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I said. “Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t, I know, it’s just… I’m really worried about her. That’s al
l I can say.”
I leaned in and kissed her lightly; her soft lips met mine hesitantly at first, then more willingly. After a moment, I pulled away. “You’re a very caring woman; Becka is lucky to have you as a best friend.”
Lisa stood up reluctantly. “I really need to go,” she said.
“I understand,” I said, standing up next to her. “Let me drive you to her.” I looked directly into her eyes. It was impossible for me to explain to her exactly how important it was that I see Becka; I would just have to use my charms on her and make them work.
The look on her face told me she was on the fence about telling me anything. I leaned in a bit closer.
“I…” she looked like she was struggling. “I really can’t.”
“I understand,” I said smoothly, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. I felt a spark of anger, but I stilled it. I took a deep breath instead, and smiled.
“Can I at least walk you to your car?” I tilted my head toward her intimately.
She smiled, a sense of relief on her face. I had hit the right side of the fence. “That would be really nice of you,” she said gratefully. “Let me grab her things and we can go.”
She quickly went to Becka’s room, and I finished our wine while she packed a bag. She emerged a few minutes later with a blue duffel bag.
“I think we’re good,” she said. “She’s just at a hotel down the street, the Holiday Inn. I’ll go meet her and spend the night there, then we’ll probably come back here tomorrow.”
I smiled and set down my empty wine glass. “Perfect. I’ll walk you to your car, and we’ll get you on your way.”
I followed Lisa down the stairs and she led me to her car which was, conveniently, parked right in front of my own. I smiled, remembering how I’d spotted her car while searching for a parking spot, sure it was hers because of how Becka had described it to me once when we were together.
“Are you sure you won’t let me drive you to meet her? I’m sure I can be helpful in one way or another,” I tried one last time.
Lisa turned and looked at me, then she wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I reciprocated. “Thank you,” she said into my ear, “but I better go alone.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that,” I said, and I quickly turned her around and put my hand over her mouth. Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle, but my former training kicked in and I was able to subdue her quickly. I took care; I didn’t want to hurt her, of course.
I tied her up and put her in the back of my Escalade. The windows were tinted enough that she could be comfortable on the seat without being seen. Well, I smiled, as comfortable as someone could be when they were tied up.
“Sorry,” I whispered to her, “but I did offer to drive you myself.” Her eyes were wide and scared. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to hurt her. I love Becka; I just need to talk to her.”
I got into the front seat and turned up the radio. I’d put a piece of tape over Lisa’s mouth, but she was still making a lot of noise, and I was trying to think about what I was going to say to Becka to convince her that she could trust me. Convince her that my motives were pure.
The Holiday Inn was just a few blocks away. I parked on a side street and checked Lisa’s bonds to make sure she was still secure. I left the car running with the radio turned up. I closed the doors and locked them and, as I walked toward the hotel, I smiled; the only sound coming from the Escalade was the thump of my bass.
A few minutes later, I was standing at Becka’s door. The lovely, gorgeous young woman at the front desk had been more than happy to give me Becka’s room number when I’d convinced her I was Becka’s brother and had brought her a few things she’d forgotten at my house. I probably could have told her anything; she was looking at me like I was Brad Pitt.
I knocked softly on the door. I heard her walking toward the door, saying something about being hungry. The door opened and she gaped at me.
“You!” she said sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet someone,” I said, standing in the doorway of her room. “Especially someone trying to do you a favor.” I didn’t step toward her; it was important for Becka to fully trust me.
I had already done enough to wreck that trust, and I didn’t want to do it again. I was taken aback by how beautiful she looked, and I was reminded that it had been a rather long time since we’d seen each other.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She was obviously flustered, and I felt badly for her. “I was expecting Lisa.”
“I know,” I said. “Lisa couldn’t make it; she sent me to pick you up. I’m here to help you.”
“She couldn’t make it? What do you mean?”
“She texted me; I happened to be in the area. I think she said her car wouldn’t start or something. She was really panicking because she knew you were expecting her. So, I told her I would swing over and explain what happened.”
“Why didn’t she just text?” Becka asked. There was confusion on her face, but there was something more as well. She was stressed out, exhausted.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, sure,” she said, and she stepped out of the way. “I’m just… I guess I’m just hungry.”
“I’m sorry, I should have thought to bring something,” I said. “I just wanted to get here to you. I’m here to help you.”
I led her to the bed and encouraged her to sit down. She protested, but I told her she looked absolutely exhausted, and she agreed. I ordered a pizza from room service, and then I joined her on the bed. We sat face to face, and I gazed into her eyes.
“Now,” I said, “tell me everything.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. She was obviously uncomfortable, and I felt bad. I leaned in to her and kissed her.
“I’ve been watching the news, Becka,” I said gently. “I haven’t contacted you because I know that you’ve been away, and I know that you’ve been struggling with all of this. It has to be really hard to become a part of this world under such ridiculous circumstances. This isn’t normal; I’m sure Oliver has told you that.”
“I don’t even know what’s normal and what’s not anymore,” she said. She put her head in her hands. I put my hand on her knee and she looked up at me. “I’m supposed to be with Oliver right now.”
“I know,” I said. I felt that clip of anger bubble up once again, and I worked to squelch it. All of this was Oliver’s fault. I knew at some point the truth would come out; the question was, how many people would have to be hurt in the time before that happened.
“He would kill us both if he found out we were here together.” She looked up at me suddenly, her eyes wide. “Imagine how this looks! Oh my God!”
“He won’t find out,” I said gently. “Becka, I’m just here to help you.”
The doorbell rang and Becka jumped up, panicked.
“It’s the pizza, Becka,” I said. “Sit down.” I grabbed my wallet and walked to the door. “Who is it?” I asked, looking at Becka meaningfully.
“Room service!” said a voice on the other side of the door.
“See?” I said, then I opened the door. I paid for the pizza and tipped the server, then brought the pizza to Becka. “Eat.” I handed her a plate and napkin. She grabbed two pieces of pizza like she hadn’t eaten for a week and attacked them.
“I’m starving,” she said. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked up at me and I smiled. I’d watched her work her way through the pizza, her adorable mouth filling with each bite. I leaned in and wiped a small bit of grease from the pepperoni from the corner of her mouth.
“Cutie,” I said.
She smiled. “I actually feel quite a bit better now,” she said. “I’m just so confused about what’s going on.”
“Becka, I need to tell you the truth. You deserve to know, and I need to get it off my chest.”
“What is it?” she was fully attenti
ve to me, the remainder of the pizza forgotten, at least for the moment.
“I’ve been in love with you from the moment we first met that night for drinks,” I said. I took a deep breath; I needed to lay everything out. It was my one chance to win her over, to take her away from Oliver and bring her over to the side of right and truth.
“I didn’t think it was possible for me to love anyone like I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you. When I imagine dating, the only person I can think of is you.” I spoke the words with conviction; they were absolutely true.
“Ethan,” she said.
“Let me finish,” I said. I put my hand on her leg. “I want us to be together. I don’t know how to break the hold that Oliver has on you, except to say that all of the things that are causing you stress, the press, the stuff with your college, your dissertation, all of that anxiety will go away once you get Oliver out of your life. Think about it, before you met him, everything was going along just fine, right?”
She looked at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. I swallowed.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s true.”
“That’s because Oliver can’t possibly love you like I do. He can’t make you happy. I can.”
I grabbed her hands and squeezed them.
“I’m not sure I trust you either,” she whispered. She was talking as if I wasn’t in the room. “And, besides, I’m pregnant. Oliver is the father.”
I saw red. Every muscle in my body tensed up and I squeezed my fists together to keep myself from jumping off the bed.
“What does that mean?” I asked. I was trying to keep the fury out of my voice, but, judging by Becka’s reaction to me, I wasn’t doing a good job. She stood up and backed a few steps away from me.
“I don’t know what it means,” she said. “You sound so angry. I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to keep it?” I asked. The idea of Oliver getting everything, Becka, a child, getting out of Neurotova completely unscathed… I felt my peripheral vision shrinking down as all I could see was an image of Oliver in front of me.
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