Dom's Baby

by Melinda Minx

  Nelson finally looks up and seems to believe me.

  “He’s with the New York Times,” I shout, praying they won’t just bum-rush me. “He’s got everything he needs back in his office already. If I die, it goes public automatically.”

  “Just come with us,” one of them says. “All will be forgiven…”

  “Jesus,” Nelson whispers. “You’re for real.”

  “Do you have the ticket?” I ask.

  He pulls it out of his jacket, and I snatch it from his hand.

  “Let me leave,” I shout. “Or I’ll make a huge fucking scene.”

  They give each other one last look, and both of them turn away. They disappear down toward the baggage claim, no longer bothering to make a show of staying separated.

  “When can I publish this?” Nelson asks me. “How do I know you’ll really send the key?”

  I shove his press badge back into his jacket pocket, and I jam the plane ticket into my jeans. “The woman I love and my child aren’t safe unless you take them and the whole organization down. That’s how you know I’ll send you the key. Now get a security guard to take you to your car. I think they believed me, but they might still try to kill you.”

  His eyes widen, but I’m gone before he can ask another question.

  19

  Madrigal

  I get a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, and I try to focus on my business.

  I just have to have faith that Dominick really is coming, and dwelling on whether or not he will does nothing but turn me into a jumble of nerves.

  I quickly find that the majority of my clients are suddenly non-responsive. They give strange excuses, or simply hang up on me when they realize it’s me.

  I start to feel paranoid, but I somehow wonder if the organization has managed to blacklist me. A way of punishing me for running instead of signing their contract. If they can’t make me hand my money over to them, they’ll starve me out until I’m broke.

  I try my best to build a local client-base, but people are hesitant to work with someone who only speaks a few broken sentences of Swedish and knows nothing about the area.

  Still, I manage to strong-arm my way into some contracts, and after a week I’ve slowly built-up a modest client base of local customers and suppliers.

  On a Saturday evening, I have a late dinner. It’s well past nine and the sun is still high in the sky. Everyone tells me to appreciate the incredibly late sunsets, because it will be the opposite come winter.

  A waiter brings my check back, and mumbles something to me in Swedish. I look at it and squint.

  “Pratar du Engelska?” I ask.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize. Yeah, what’s up?”

  I point at the receipt. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it says I already paid, right? I haven’t paid.”

  “The gentleman has taken care of it,” he says, pointing over my shoulder.

  I see him sitting at the bar, a drink in hand. He waves at me.

  Dominick.

  I jump out of my chair and rush toward him.

  He stands up and holds his arms out for me, and I throw myself into his wide chest. His arms wrap around me, and he holds me tight and secure.

  “Tell me,” I whimper, trying not to cry. “I want to hear you say—”

  “I love you, Maddie,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I had to tell you otherwise.”

  “I’m sorry I smacked you,” I say, my tears soaking through his tight t-shirt.

  “I understand,” he says, laughing. “Not that it really hurt. You’ve got a weak arm.”

  He pulls me off him, his hand guiding my chin up to face him. He leans in toward me, and our lips press together.

  We kiss for a long time, it’s slow and warm and passionate rather than hungry and ravenous. I want him to calm me down, to be a rock for me. His slow kiss is just what I need, and I can feel his love through the way his tongue moves, from the way his strong hands grip my waist.

  When we break the kiss, I notice people are staring.

  “Swedes are not big fans of PDA,” I whisper sheepishly.

  “Let’s get out of here then,” he says.

  We step outside and go on a walk. We walk into the park as the midnight sun moves lazily down toward the horizon, still not quite getting there even as we approach eleven thirty.

  He holds my hand is his, and we walk together, rarely speaking.

  I’m almost afraid to ask him any questions. I want to know that we are safe, but I’m afraid to ask if we are. If our baby will be. I dread hearing anything other than, “Yes, we’re safe.”

  We reach a bench just on the edge of the forest, and we sit down together. I rest my head onto Dominick’s shoulder, and I finally dare to ask him.

  “Are we safe?”

  He sighs and squeezes my hand. “I think we will be. But I don’t want to promise anything I can’t be sure of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He strokes my hair and runs his hand along my cheek. “Madrigal, can you wait until tomorrow? We should know by afternoon—by morning in the States.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking in a deep breath. “I’ll wait. To be honest, I don’t have it in me to worry anymore.”

  “I know,” he says, stroking my palm.

  “Can you tell me about your... about what happened to you?”

  “The organization raised me,” he says. “It used to be that they served a rather vital function within society. Hundreds of years ago—”

  “They’re that old?” I ask, knowing it shouldn’t really surprise me.

  “Very old,” he says. “It used to be that if a woman couldn’t give a husband children, she was all but useless—”

  “Hey,” I say, elbowing him.

  “I’m not saying I think that!” he says, laughing, “But think about a king taking a queen, only for her to be unable to produce an heir. That’s how it started, and after the plague hit, the kings of Europe expanded us. We needed to help repopulate. And then, think of all the wars that decimated Europe. Again we were needed. Always funded by royalty.”

  “So were kids always taken?” She asks.

  He nods. “They have to be trained from a young age. Even before becoming sexually mature, certain types of empathy and ability to read emotions are required. It can’t be taught later in life. Governments always looked the other way. One of us could impregnate hundreds of women who otherwise would remain barren. It’s economics of scale.”

  “Jesus,” she whispers. “How was I your first client?” I ask. “You’ve got to be pushing thirty.”

  He laughs. “Don’t flatter me too much. The master was grooming me. I think to replace him. I underwent much more extensive training. It’s why he considered letting you off the hook, so long as he could keep me with him. I think he knew how I really felt.”

  “So governments still supports this... organization?” I ask.

  “Sort of,” he says. “Money controls all governments now, and with so many women in powerful positions, a woman no longer needs to have children. It’s all about money now. The organization went from having a somewhat charitable goal, to caring only about amassing wealth and power.”

  “Would I have been safe here?” I ask, “Without you?”

  He shakes his head. “Once your lawyer found out what we were, they bought him off. That’s how I knew you were running.”

  “Shit,” I say. “I should fire his slimy ass.”

  “Hold off on that,” he says.

  We go back to my apartment, and for the first time we fall into bed together with nothing between us.

  I get on top of him and pull his cock up so that I can lower myself down onto it. I feel it split me open with each inch, but I lower myself down and down until he’s deep inside me.

  I ride him with my hands pressed against his muscular chest. My hands go down to his abs, and I buck my hips against him.

  I think of the fact that our child is growing inside of me as
I ride him, and I let that joy fill me up. Knowing that we will have a future together presses the dread and fear out of me.

  The warmth of him inside me gives me everything I need, and just when I begin to cum, I feel his cock twitch and throb. I collapse down onto him, his throbbing cock still buried deep.

  My breasts press soft against his chest, and with a sudden burst of strength he flips me over onto my back.

  He pounds me with incredible speed as I cum all over him, and his cock unleashes itself deep within me.

  I’m already pregnant, but feeling him pump me full when I never thought I’d feel him inside me again is too much. I moan and cry and scream, and I twitch and tremble even after my orgasm dies down.

  We lay together, him still on top of me, buried deep. His warmth surrounding me inside and out and for the first time in a long time, I feel that everything is going to turn out okay.

  The next afternoon, after lazing around all day in our underwear, Dominick opens his laptop and shows it to me.

  It’s the New York Times, and the headline reads:

  “Shadow Organization Exposed: How They Used Sex Slaves to Make Billions”

  “Jesus,” I whisper. “You... you took the whole thing down?”

  He shrugs. “It was the only way I could think of to keep us safe.”

  I read on, and it calls out Dominick by name. Did he not just paint a huge target on his back?

  “I don’t think it could have lasted much longer anyway. I was just the final straw. It used to be that kids would die early—you had to have a lot of them to make sure some survived. You used your kids as free labor. Having kids taken away back then didn’t mean as much, but people today will not stand for kids being forcibly taken from their mothers.”

  I frown, reading as I listen to him.

  “Maddie,” he says, putting a hand on my back, “Like I said, I can’t promise you that everything will be okay, but I’d imagine that you and me are the absolute least of their concerns right now.”

  As the dust clears, we fly back to the U.S.

  Dominick’s “master,” who we now know is named Castor Wellington, was arrested. A staggering number of senators from both parties are implicated as well. I never thought that the man who would give me a baby would bring down a dangerous shadow organization just to do it, but well, here we are.

  “I still think we should be in Sweden,” he says as we get into the rental car.

  “All my money is still there,” I say.

  “Your money isn’t what I’m worried about,” he says, putting his hand onto my belly and giving me a serious look.

  “Castor’s in jail,” I say. “His whole apparatus is dismantled. He can’t get us now. And it’s like you said, they have way more to worry about than us.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m just worried that if they really are doomed and have no chance, that they could use the last of their resources to take revenge on us. A last attack before they fall for good.

  “We’ll be careful,” I say.

  The rift between my sister and me spread to my parents. The last thing I want at this point is to put an entire ocean between us when I’m finally having a baby. I want my kid to have an aunt and grandparents.

  Aside from that, I want my family to meet my future husband.

  I laugh thinking about that.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

  I just assume he’s going to propose to me. He hasn’t even had time to do it, but in my mind it’s as good as done. I realize I’ll actually be furious if he doesn’t propose, but after all that’s happened, how could he not? Hell, maybe he had something all set up in Sweden, and my suddenly forcing us on a plane ruined his carefully laid plans.

  20

  Dominick

  As soon as Madrigal goes into the bathroom in the gas station, I make a quick call to the skywriter.

  “Ja?” He asks.

  “It’s me,” I say. “the American guy.”

  “Ja ja,” he says. “The plane is fueled up and ready to—”

  “Cancel it,” I say. “We had to make a sudden trip.”

  “You’re cancelling your proposal?” He asks.

  “No,” I whisper. “Just the method of proposal. I don’t want you writing, ‘Marry me, Madrigal,’ in the sky for no one to see it.”

  “Ahh,” he says. “Well, I already spent a lot of time preparing, I can’t give you all the money back.”

  “That’s fine,” I say. “Just don’t waste your time flying around.”

  “Thank you for the heads up,” he says, and we disconnect.

  Now I have to call the restaurant and cancel the reservations, but I see Madrigal walking out and smiling. I wave and stash my phone away.

  I reach into my pocket and make sure the ring is still actually there. I’m going to have to just improvise.

  “Here,” Madrigal says. “Stop here!”

  She nervously taps on my shoulder, and I pull over.

  “She lives here?” I ask, pointing at the house in front of us.

  “No, over there,” Madrigal says waving her hand vaguely in the distance.

  “You told her we’re coming, right?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “I just want to rip it off like a Band-Aid,” Madrigal says. “Just show up and take care of this thing.”

  “I see,” I say. “What if she’s not home though?”

  “We’ll get something to eat and come back. I don’t know. That’s not the point, Dominick.”

  I was just trying to be practical.

  “So…” I say, after a long silence from Madrigal. “Do we get out now?”

  “No,” she says. “Her car isn’t there.”

  “What if she’s home and—”

  “Dominick,” she snaps. “I’m not going to be seen knocking on her door when she’s not home, then going back into my car and sitting in it until she gets back. How weird would that look?”

  “I thought we were going to go get something to eat if she wasn’t home.”

  She leans back with her arms crossed. I guess we’re not going to eat anything.

  “I spy something red,” I say.

  “Come on, Dom,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “I never got to play it as a kid,” I say. “The master said I didn’t have time for games.”

  “Castor,” she says. “If you call him ‘the master’ it gives him power over you.”

  Hm, she’s right. I’d never thought of it like that. He’s not a ‘master,’ he’s just a man. A man in prison.

  “I spy something yellow,” she says.

  I laugh, and we kill about an hour playing “I spy,” which is a miracle considering that the car isn’t even moving.

  “I spy your sister’s car,” I say.

  She looks up, and we see an SUV slowing down and pulling into the driveway. There’s a man driving.

  “That her boyfriend?” I ask.

  Madrigal shrugs. “She doesn’t exactly keep me in the loop. I last saw her like eight months ago. I think she was dating someone then, but she didn’t bring him to Christmas.”

  “Time to meet him I guess,” I say, reaching for the door.

  “Wait,” Madrigal whispers, grabbing my wrist. “Wait until they are inside.”

  We watch as they step out of the car. The man is tall and has blonde hair, and Destiny looks...

  “She’s pregnant!” Madrigal shouts, pointing. “Holy crap! She’s pregnant!”

  She reaches for the handle, but I go to stop her.

  “You’re good, right?” I ask.

  “I…” she stammers. “I think I am? I thought I’d be mad…but we’re both pregnant now. We’re going to both have kids around the same age. Our kid will have a cousin to play with and to grow up with.”

  I smile, stroking her hand, which is still on the door handle.

  “I wish she would have told me,” Madrigal says. “But…I understand her not telling me.
She probably thought I’d have taken it hard. She knew I was trying desperately to get pregnant.”

  “Well,” I say. “Looks like you two have even more reason to make up then. Forgiveness will feel good.”

  21

  Madrigal

  We step outside, and he takes me by the hand. We walk together down the sidewalk toward Destiny’s house, down her driveway, and down the little footpath to her front door.

  I ring the bell without hesitating, and I wait. When the door opens, I realize I’ve been holding my breath the whole time.

  It’s Dillon. My Dillon. I hadn’t recognized him from so far away when he got out of the car, but looking him in the face, it’s him.

  “Oh, Dillon.” I say. I can’t tell if I’m angry, or hurt, or disappointed…or…

  “Maddie,” he says, holding up a hand apologetically. “I begged her to tell you.”

  “I…” I stammer, “I didn’t think you two were…together.”

  Destiny walks into the hallway, looking up at me in surprise. “Oh, shit, Maddie.”

  “We seriously should have told her,” Dillon says, moving out of the way to make room for Destiny.

  I look up at the two of them. I see the way they look at each other, and I realize with astonishment that I really don’t care. Not only do I not care, but if they have been together this long, they must be happy together. I’m actually happy for my sister.

  I look back and see Dominick and Dillon shaking hands, whispering introductions to each other. They think I’m going to be angry, and they are treating me like I’m made of glass, ready to break at any moment.

  “How long have you guys been together?” I ask. I realize my voice sounds confused more than anything. I should tell them I don’t care, but I can’t get the words to come out.

  “Three years,” Destiny says.

  “Destiny,” Dillon says in a sharp voice.

  “Okay,” Destiny says, “Two years the first time, and three years now. I guess that’s a total of five.”