by Scott, D. D.
Audrey was aware of Roy giving Damian all the details regarding the villa’s private salon, barber and massage room, as well as a personal gym and both the dry and steam sauna rooms included in their layout.
But that was all just background noise to her now.
After she’d finished admiring the fabulous arrival presentation of fresh fruit and flowers arranged on the bar top, along with petits four, nuts and chocolates, she couldn’t focus on anything else except the French doors opened onto their private courtyard terrace. From what she could see through the doors, the terrace came complete with its own fireplace as well as a gorgeous pool, whirlpool spa and manicured gardens that looked as if they came right out of Eden.
While the crisp, dawn-breaking daylight brushed against a wisp of her shoulders the shawl had missed, Audrey stepped out into Eve’s playground and marveled at its beauty.
Hot pink bougainvillea toppled over marble walls of water cascading into a pool the blue of which belonged amongst heaven’s most brilliant clouds, not earth. Ornate Italian-themed sculptures peeked out from behind perfectly clipped topiaries, making her think, for a moment, that The Bellagio had simply set this terrace and pool in the middle of the Met’s European Sculpture Court. One of her former life’s favorite spots in which to escape her worries.
Gorgeous and plush wrought iron settees and chaise lounges surrounded the pool, beckoning her and their babies to adopt one of them for their own.
Roy went on about the rest of the villa’s fine features, and Audrey was glad for Damian’s ability to listen. Her mind and soul had parked themselves here in the courtyard. She was already trying out which chair was soon to be hers and their twin bundle’s Vegas rooftop lair.
She’d been raised with over-the-top luxury like this. But she’d never thought she’d find herself now hiding inside its well-appointed confines.
Maybe for just a little while, she and Damian could relax and just play house. Not worrying about who or what waited for them out their front door or downstairs in the hotel lobby. They could just hide up here, in this little piece of real estate paradise, and enjoy being pregnant…with all the big aching boobs, belly creams and cravings that brought.
Along with her Naked Juice cravings, what she wanted most was the little bit of normalcy this outrageous villa gave them. She’d never felt so safe and secure inside the laps of luxury. In fact, usually the opposite.
Maybe Roman and Zoey had it right this time. Maybe in Vegas, they could keep her rapidly growing belly from the paparazzi. Maybe they could also keep their tiny but expanding family away from her past. Maybe they’d be okay here, waiting it out ‘til she popped.
She was almost five months along now…so what was four more?
Chapter Twelve
Damian knew all about the normal pregnancy symptoms. But reading about them, then experiencing them with your partner, were two sides of there’s no way it could be the same coin.
He was beginning to think that some male somewhere had best step-up and write the guy’s guide to pregnancy. Or wait. Maybe he’d see if he could pull up something like that on their Kindle.
‘Cause yeah. There was so damn much he didn’t know. And some of the stuff he knew, he didn’t totally get.
What he did get…the fatigue.
Poor Audrey was tired all the time. And he meant all the time. Hell, he’d seen her take a nose dive into her Naked Juice. The Naked Juice. The get-me-some-now nectar of his pregnant diva.
And it wasn’t only her swamp juice power drink she was after either. With all she was eating, her energy should be flying high.
Hell, he swore he was packin’ on the pregnancy pounds too. He knew she needed a steady supply of refueling and had to drastically increase her caloric intake, especially after the huge toll the Morning Sickness had taken on her. But damn. If she wasn’t asleep before he could get the food on their table, she was shoveling it down, barely taking breaths between fork and spoonfuls.
And yeah, the books suggested a Six-Meal Solution, five or six mini meals versus the big-three, square variety to combat bloating, heartburn and constipation. But his little, too cute, pregnant piglet was chowin’ down all day long.
Because he knew how worried she was about gaining too much weight, Damian ate with her so she didn’t feel alone. Good thing they had a gym in this huge damn house or villa, whatever it was called.
Damian tapped his mechanical pencil against the final plans for their nursery. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, he was thankful for what luxury living could bring them. Without the fully-equipped business center-like office the villa had, he’d have been sunk on seeing to it that their new house was ready and waiting whenever they were able to finally go home. He had everything from a fax and scanner to a huge copier, a multi-line and way-too-complicated phone system plus a nice, nice computer with a large monitor and a quicker than anything he’d seen or used wireless internet access service. He was set.
Rubbing the couple days’ worth of stubble he’d left on his chin, primarily ‘cause Audrey liked that, he reviewed the drawings once more. Yeah. This nursery was gonna rock it big-time. And wow, he sure hoped Audrey and their kids thought so too.
He’d actually had a helluva great time thinking it thru then getting it all down on his prints. And with the amazing skills of the carpenters who worked for him, he knew it was gonna be perfect, just like it was on paper.
Pleased with his progress, he noted the time, glad to see they only had a couple hours ‘til Zayne and Cody and Roxy and Jules were due in to spend a few days with them.
Although it had been nice the last couple weeks having this sweet, sweet set-up to play house in with just he and Audrey, he was ready for some guy-time and the inside scoop from all their friends as to what was happening at home.
Home, he thought. Once something he took for granted. And a something that always meant his built-by-himself house, in the well-wooded hills south of Nashville.
But home, since Audrey had entered his life, meant something else entirely.
He thought of the new and artsy, high-class pad they were now calling a temporary home. Then there was the home he was overseeing construction of — although, God he wished he was also cutting and sawing the boards himself. That house, would someday, hopefully soon, be their permanent home. He sure hoped it was soon anyway.
So yeah. The idea of home wasn’t the same for him anymore. Actually, home was wherever he was with Audrey and soon their children too.
Not bad, for a guy that a year ago, would have thought you’d flat out lost it if you’d told him this is where he’d be a year from that very moment.
Hearing Audrey call him — through the villa’s intercom system - he snapped back into his rather bizarre present. Hell, if she didn’t use the intercom, he’d never hear her with 8,000 square feet of wall and floor surrounding them.
The intercom pad indicated she was in their his and hers marble bathroom. Which he’d love to have the money to recreate in their new home. Talk about sweet.
He’d never seen bathrooms with this kind of therapeutic whirlpool baths, rainforest Swiss steam showers — which were to die for — built-in towel warmers, cedar closets and huge LCD screens so you could watch TV the whole time you were in there.
“Coming, Baby,” he responded into the intercom, anxious to see if she was alright.
Every time she called for him, he couldn’t help but worry sick that something was wrong. Something had frightened her. Or something didn’t feel right in her tummy.
Sometimes he swore he’d rather be the one carrying their babies. That way, he’d better know what everything was that was going on in there. He’d take her pain and fears in a minute.
On his way across the back forty they now called home, he laughed to himself, easing his concerns by rationalizing, based on his experiences these last couple weeks, she was in the midst of another one of her weird hang-ups. Which, he should note to the editors of their pregnancy bible, were no
t included in any of the pages he’d read.
Lately, Audrey was into things like a gazillion different belly creams. Hell, there must be ten different fancy jars lined up on one of the bathroom’s shelves.
Supposedly these things - made from stuff like shea butter, avocado, grapefruit, marshmallow root and God only knew what else — were to keep her from getting stretch marks.
And yes, he’d read all the jars and the instructions that came with ‘em.
Hey. This was about his babies too. He damn sure wanted to know what he was gooping-up their temporary house walls with.
Well, he usually just did as Audrey asked, and rubbed the crap on her belly. Sometimes four or five different potions at once. He certainly wasn’t gonna be the one to tell her that according to internet research, apparently the whole belly cream theory was a bunch of poopoo voodoo. Oh no. He was so not tellin’ her that.
He planned to just keep rubbing. ‘Cause that made her happy and relaxed. Which was good for her. Him. And their babies too.
And boy she did now have a super soft belly, which he enjoyed laying his head on to see if he could hear anyone moving around in there.
But when he arrived in her bathroom this time, it didn’t appear to be a belly cream issue. He could only wish. ‘Cause what he saw, yikes, didn’t look too good.
There she was. The love of his life. Holding a mirror to her crotch, looking at God only knew what, and he was afraid he was about to find out, or worse yet, have to help with the search.
“I need your help a minute, Baby,” she said, with what he swore were her very own glowing pink cheeks, heating to red at the idea of even having to ask his help.
“Yesssss,” he said, walking very slowly to where she was seated on the edge of the therapeutic tub.
Seeing her there without a stitch of clothes, her super soft baby belly kind of looking like a big ‘ole beach ball on her lap, he knew he was toast.
Yeah. She had him.
She owned every heart string he had. And he swore ones he didn’t even know existed.
Who was he kidding? He’d do anything she wanted with that mirror…even down there.
As he made his way across the ridiculously large space then sat on the tub ledge alongside her, he couldn’t help laughing a bit.
“You’re not gonna ask me whether or not you should get a Brazilian wax, are you?”
He asked the question, recalling the first time she’d asked his opinion on that beast of a woman thing.
And she’d asked him about it while he was eating breakfast no less. He’d damn near choked on his omelet then, and still did every time, prior to their pregnancy, that she’d told him she was either going for the wax or had made an appointment for one.
“Well…no, not exactly,” she stammered, once again holding the mirror down there, twisting and turning it, apparently trying to get a better view.
“They sure as hell don’t bother to mention in our books that, all at once, boom, you can’t see down there anymore,” she said, sighing before slamming down the mirror.
“I’m thinking I need to shave that thing, but I can’t see it,” she said then looked at him with those big ass blue, puppy dog eyes.
“Oh boy. All at once a Brazilian is sounding just fine,” he said, seeing the razor she surprise-surprise already had out for him.
Talk about a whole new level of intimacy.
And come to think of it, that was one of the things their books didn’t really go into much either.
But even though he’d give her a hard time about this, probably forever, he thrived on helping her this way. He loved that they could share anything — the good, the bad, and the way crazy like this — and come out even stronger.
• • •
Post home-remedy Brazilian wax, Audrey was thrilled to be finishing up a scrumptious lunch with the girls in The Bellagio’s Café Bellagio.
It had only been about three weeks since she’d seen Roxy and Jules, but it was three weeks too long. She thrived on Roxy’s smart mouth and Jules sweet sense of logic. And she felt more safe in their midst than with any of her handlers.
Well, except for Zoey. Zoey, at least, had Audrey’s best interests at heart, something she wasn’t sure about regarding the other security detail members.
Even Roman. He was turning out to be quite the enigma. A guy who made his living protecting others from very bad people, but obviously came from a life like hers in which Bellagio Villas were only a phone call away.
She’d have to ask Zoey what she knew of Roman’s past. ‘Cause Audrey had a strong feeling things weren’t quite what they seemed with Marshal Bellesconi.
“So what’s got you so baffled you’re twisting those gorgeous new raven locks into pin curled wanna-be’s?” Roxy said, using a bit of firm pressure from her fingertips to readjust Audrey’s latest wig.
“Oh, I don’t know. All this,” she said, gesturing toward the rest of the day’s ensemble and tugging at the wig, hating the way it felt on her head, so heavy and full of a sense of dread.
Hell, she couldn’t even see her get-up very well, thanks to the colored contacts they now had her wearing too. So yes, it was kind of a compliment that her handlers now thought her “beautiful baby blues” would bust her cover. And the fact that the macho-type goons she had on her team even noticed her eyes was sort of flattering. But this whole lifestyle was just getting way outta hand.
She hadn’t noticed as much the last few weeks, perfectly content to be shacked-up with Damian in their villa like paradise. One bright point to her current existence.
She still couldn’t get over how much this pregnancy had brought them closer. And here she hadn’t even thought that was possible. But pregnancy is a whole new kind of intimacy for a couple. She’d actually highly recommend it, which must mean her hormones were way wayyyy out of whack.
“I’m just sooo tired of hiding,” she said, noticing how uncomfortable saying that seemed to make Roxy and Jules.
“I know you are, Honey,” Jules said, reaching for her hands. “But you know you’ve got to do this for your sake as well as the safety of Damian and your babies.”
Jules squeezed her shoulders then carefully moved Audrey’s shawl so as to make sure her ever-expanding belly was covered.
Audrey tried her best to smile, but she could still feel the unnaturally tight pull of her lips across her teeth. So much for believability on that note.
She looked around them. At the gorgeous dining area of the café. Here they were, best friends since their first Central Park arranged playdate, sitting in arguably one of the finest hotels in the world, in this quaint little Old World Mediterranean themed café. A gorgeous, artistically tiled pool and amazing parterre gardens were in full view from their table. What should have been a very Sex and The City moment of brunch with the girls, in fabulous pastel high-backed chairs, a centerpiece of sunny yellow, bright and big gerber daisies and the fanciest complimentary, little turquoise porcelain teapot she’d ever seen, was completely stressing her out.
Even the fabulous food they’d been served, and food which she actually enjoyed and could have probably eaten more of, wasn’t soothing her restless spirit. Hell, if she ate any more, she’d pop out of her shawl, her belly about large enough now to turn into a big ‘ole barn.
“Okay, you’re overwhelming zest for life is now stressing me out too,” Roxy said. “Let’s blow this joint and head to that fabulous Conservatory and Botanical Gardens I’ve read so much about. I think they have a Chinese New Year theme thing going, and I need some oriental inspiration for a couple collections I’m working on.”
Leave it to Roxy, Audrey thought. The woman could find inspiration anywhere. Even in the midst of chaos. But it was just that trait that was making her one helluva huge, fashion industry star.
Roxy and her Raeve creations were perfect for the home shopping world where being able to produce quickly and prolifically were keys to success. Well, that, along with fabulously productive productio
n methods.
Somehow, however, call her a skeptic, but Audrey didn’t think the fact that part of the plan these next few days was for all of them to help Roxy create the 3,000 belt buckles needed for their next HSQ appearance could be called a highly efficient means of production.
But, if they could just get through this next show, and the babies due at about the same time, Audrey could work on the production angle for their Winter Collection debut in the Fall.
“Great idea, Rox,” Jules said, getting up from her chair then immediately rushing over to help Audrey out of hers.
Audrey accepted Jules help, ‘cause basically, she had to. Getting out of a chair these days was becoming increasingly difficult. And that’s precisely something else that bugged the hell out of her regarding having to hide all this.
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she exclaimed, then took a moment to catch her breath and relieve the catch in her cramping thighs before continuing, “I can’t keep hiding this ‘cause I can barely move my fat ass on my own anymore.”
Audrey didn’t miss the worried glances exchanged between Jules and Roxy, but took some comfort in that their silence meant they obviously recognized and concurred with her concerns.
“To the Botanical Gardens then,” Roxy said, the blatant dismissal of her changing the subject so not lost on any of them.
But that’s what this charade of a life had become. Simply brushing under the table Audrey’s real life, in exchange for all this bizarre pretending of who and what she really was or wasn’t along with a crazy, U. S. Marshal-directed, kamikaze stab at hiding the truth from the world.
Growing up a McCall had always been about non-confrontation. Living with Type A, obsessive compulsive, manipulative and super-controlling parents like hers had taught Audrey early on that arguing her case was a lost cause.
Not until she’d been “discovered” as an Ad Kid Wunderkind at the age of eight had she had the slightest smidgeon of control over her life. Control because she could escape into the commercialized ad world she loved.