by Zee Monodee
He remained pensive. “I prefer when you show.”
She felt her eyes widen. Never before had he told her expressly that he preferred her pregnant body over a normal-looking one.
“I’m gonna be late.” He clenched his jaw.
She nodded.
He bent forward and kissed her as if he were throwing all of him into that kiss. Jane gave in to him with everything she had.
He broke away first and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll be back soon.”
She simply nodded. Emotion strangled her throat, and she couldn’t tell him what she wanted to.
Like the fact that she loved him.
Another moment passed.
“Go.”
He broke away and walked out without looking back.
She loved him.
Jane stood there with the words in her head.
What was she going to do?
***
In front of her computer at her desolate desk in a nasty cubicle at the Viewstand office, Connie Burton cursed. To think that she was the one who had let the world know about Nitro Mike and Jane Smithers. Nobody recalled that anymore, not when every damn paper and every bloody reporter was hot on their trail.
She’d been relegated to the titbits again, following useless pieces of scum who would do nothing for her career.
Come on, Connie, think.
There had to be something. Nobody basked in such bliss in real life. Every model couple had a flaw. It only took a little while for someone to cleverly point out that maybe things weren’t as rosy as they appeared. Now that kind of revelation made a tabloid moment. Even baseless assumptions would kick-start her into the spotlight again—just look at the furore when Rebecca Loos had come forward to claim she’d had an affair with David Beckham.
If only she could come up with one such scandal, too. Forget about Kate’s topless photos. Right now, the perfect couple was Michael and Jane. There had to be something.
With a renewed burst of energy and delusional hope brought on by desperation, she threw herself into her quest to find more. She didn’t know what ‘more’ was, but she would know it when she saw it.
She spent days on the search, but her pains proved fruitless.
On top of it, she unexpectedly had her monthly visit, which ended up staining her brand-new, white Guess jeans. Talk of being jinxed. The first time she was even wearing the trousers, and she’d been caught unawares.
As she rushed to the corner Asda to get a pack of tampons, Connie had a brainwave.
Monthly cycles.
Why hadn’t anyone checked out the conception date of Jane’s baby? That would give a fair indication of when she and Nitro Mike had hooked up. Maybe then, she could dig deeper and find out how they met. Did they attend the same settings prior to that date? Could someone have introduced them?
Back at her office, she pulled all her notes again, searching for one piece of information. Then she logged onto the Net and found herself a pregnancy calendar on a women’s health site.
So, if Jane had had her booking scan in late March, it had to mean that she was between ten and fourteen weeks along. And taking into account all the different possible lengths of a woman’s cycle, it would mean she got pregnant around the end of December.
Michael and Jane had met before that, then.
She pulled up another document and scanned it.
What she saw made her eyes pop out.
If this information were to be believed, Michael Rinaldi had spent the second half of December and the first two weeks of January in Brazil, concluding one of the biggest mergers between two hotel companies of the Southern American continent.
Connie remained in her seat for a long time, staring at the paper in front of her. Maybe Jane had gone to Brazil to meet him. How would she know?
On an impulse, she Googled Jane’s name. Many instances came up, but one thing caught her attention. Jane had a Facebook profile.
Aha! This was a boon. People published everything and nothing on the social networking site. Maybe she’d luck out.
Her elation died when she realized Jane’s profile was a private one. Still, something told her not to give up.
She searched the site for any mention of Jane, and as luck would have it, found her tagged in some pictures.
They were of the New Year party at the Lair, the trendy Chelsea nightclub. The album was open only to friends of a certain bloke named Rhys, but Connie had no problem friending him and gaining access to the photos.
She found one of Jane. Darkish, but she could make out that Jane was with a guy who looked nothing like Nitro Mike. The two looked quite ‘friendly,’ actually.
With the information in hand, she jumped from her cubicle and barged into her editor’s office to expose her theory—Jane had played Nitro Mike behind his back when he’d been in Brazil.
“You got proof of that?”
“No, but—”
“Then we can’t run it. Bring me evidence, and it’ll be on the cover the following day.”
Connie exited the office, dejected. How would she get proof?
She slumped into her chair. She needed more information. Things that no one had access to. Confidential stuff.
An idea logged into her head. She had hacked into the doctor’s computer once. Personally, her hacking competence didn’t extend much further, but she knew people who could do the job for her in exchange for some cash.
Later that day, she wore the face-splitting grin again as she and a bloke named Andy sat in the café where Dr. Larkin used the Internet.
She had found her information. Andy had managed to access a file that wasn’t encrypted or protected in any way, and he had retrieved a date for her.
Jane Smithers got pregnant on January first, while the baby’s ‘father’ had been thousands of miles away.
There’d been no mention of artificial insemination—she’d thought of it just to cover all her bases. So that could mean only one thing.
Connie wanted to let out a whoop of victory. She had her proof, and tomorrow, she’d have her front page.
Chapter Fifteen
‘She played him all along.’
Jane stared at the headlines of Viewstand, and her head went light as her stomach churned. She couldn’t bear to think what they implied in the article. If she thought she’d seen the worse of what the tabloids could do to a person, she’d had no idea one could feel so much like hunted prey when under the unscrupulous and merciless lenses of reporters.
“How could they say that, Jaaane? You can’t let them get away with it.”
She remained frozen on the floor where she had slumped after seeing the paper. The twins had barged into her place first thing in the morning at the same time her phone had started to ring.
After a while, the mobile stopped screeching, and she noticed Ileana coming out of her room. Had her friend turned the device off?
“You have to call Michael. His lawyer will sue them until they bleed. And you also need to come up with a statement denying all this.”
No. She wouldn’t—couldn’t, really—because the tabloids were on to the truth.
She’d known it would all come out one day, hadn’t she? The life that had happened to her had been too good to be true.
“Why is she so quiet, Leana?” she heard Ilyanka ask. “We have to call Michael.”
“Don’t.”
Ileana knelt beside her. “Why not, luv? He’ll know what to do.”
It’s because of me he’s in this mess in the first place. If she hadn’t stepped into Michael’s life, none of this would be happening today. Marenka’s words sing-sang in her head: “thrust Jane into anything, and watch it go down the drain.”
All her past insecurities rushed forth in the wake of those hurtful words, smashing the bliss of the past few weeks, a life she should not have even aspired to. She’d never had any place in anyone’s life for all her existence. She’d lived on a ‘borrowed’ lease in the thirty-two years she
’d been on Earth—borrowed because she’d never really existed for any purpose. Her mother thought she was a personal scapegoat; she’d been a pity burden on her stepfathers; and she merely covered all the tracks at the office for her boss.
Then she’d gone and gotten herself pregnant, not realizing she’d be bringing a new life into the world. What sort of mother would she be for her child when she knew next to nothing about how to live and only knew how to fend for herself, whiling the days away until anything else came along?
Not to mention that in the midst of it all, she managed to bring dirt on people who didn’t deserve anything like it. Why did she ever think she could come out into the light and have something good to show for herself?
She got up and headed for the living room where she switched on the TV. As she’d expected, the scrolling headlines of all the entertainment programs were about her and Michael.
‘She cheated on him.’
‘She left him in the dark.’
‘What a shame, when he thought he was about to become a father.’
‘Good at business but clueless in love.’
‘How could an ace like him have allowed himself to be played like that?’
A little part of her died with every slur they threw onto Michael.
He doesn’t deserve all that. I’m the one you should be focusing on. Leave him alone.
But the spotlight wasn’t on her. No, it shone on Michael. The press hadn’t come round yet to saying what a trollop she was. They were busy expressing ‘sympathy’ to the victim, while in fact, they were just digging their claws farther into his wounds.
How could I have done this to you?
Jane didn’t realize she’d started to wail until the TV went blank and silent, leaving nothing else but her plaintive cries to shatter the quiet.
“That’s enough, Jane. Pick yourself up now!” Ileana shook her by the shoulders.
“No!” She grabbed the remote and switched the TV back on.
Ileana tugged it out of her hands and switched it off again. “Stop this.”
“Go away!”
Anger, despair, shame, loss—she thought she’d go mad with the pain as everything bombarded her from all sides.
“Leave me alone. Leave me, you hear? Bloody go away!”
The twins’ eyes grew wide before they backed off and left the room.
Slumping to the floor, she sobbed.
What had she done? Why hadn’t she come clean? Look what she’d inflicted on Michael. He who’d been so caring and good to her. Today, he was the laughingstock of the press. All because of her.
There was a knock at the door, and she found herself standing to go see who it was. Why she did that, she had no idea. Could be reflex kicking in. Nothing made sense any more.
A woman she didn’t know stood outside the door.
“Ah, Miss Smithers, I’m so glad I caught you. I’m Connie Burton from Viewstand, and we wanted to have your side of the story—”
“Bloody go away.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “You want the truth? The truth is that he knew all along, and being the man he is, he shouldered the responsibility of another. Now piss off before I call the police.”
She slammed the door shut in the woman’s stunned face.
Jane heard muffled sounds on the other side of the panel, as if someone were chastising another, but she didn’t bother. Suddenly drained, she dragged herself to the lounge again where she fell in a heap on the carpet at the foot of an ottoman seat.
Sobs racked her, and she gave in to them.
Time passed, and she had no idea how long she’d sat there. All she could see was Michael’s face in her mind. Every time she imagined his smile, her suffering increased, and her lungs burned and threatened to burst.
Knocks came at the door. The twins’ voices. At one point, she even thought she heard Charles, but she didn’t get up. She couldn’t.
Nothing was right any longer, and shame nearly killed her. How would she look into anyone’s face now after her lie had been exposed? She was a failure. Her child would be ashamed of her. Did she even deserve to have the life and well-being of another person entrusted to her? Wouldn’t she falter and cause irredeemable damage again?
She didn’t bother about herself. No, not when she had already sent Michael’s life down the drain.
How would she ever be able to face him again? And knowing him, he would say the right thing and stand by her, just because he was a good and honourable man.
How could she let him do that? She wasn’t worth even a dime of the concern he laid out for her.
She had to let him go. There was no other way.
I’m a failure. Nothing I do is good. Everything I touch goes down the drain.
The thoughts flitted and danced before her eyes. She closed them, but then the sordid ideas grew a voice that echoed in her head.
“Go away.” She rocked on her arse on the floor as she mumbled the words. “Just go away.”
***
Michael spent the whole of that afternoon cursing a blue streak under his breath. Rory had called at around two o’clock, Singapore local time. Barely six in the morning in London, and already, a furore raged over the tabloids’ latest headlines.
Damn bloody reporters. He wanted to find every single one of them and wring their necks. He’d take pleasure in the deed.
Jane. Not one second passed without his thoughts going to her. What was she doing? How was she taking it? He hadn’t been able to reach her phone.
Half out of his mind with worry, he had called the twins, and what they’d told him had made his blood go cold.
Jane had shut herself off in her flat and wouldn’t let anyone in. It had been like that since the early morning. Even Charles hadn’t been able to speak sense to her. When he’d had the other man on the line, he’d asked her stepfather to break the door and get in if need be, just to be sure she was okay.
He hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Like run herself so ragged with distress that she could bring harm to her health and to the baby’s.
He couldn’t call anyone from the plane, and the hours-long flight had him jittery.
The first thing he did when he set foot in London was call Charles.
“She’s not letting anyone close, Michael. She gets hysterical as soon as anyone even talks to her.”
Bloody hell. “I’m coming over as soon as I get out of customs.”
On the way to the exit, a paper stand caught his attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the headlines of an afternoon edition of a tabloid.
‘He knew all along, she says. Why did Nitro Mike protect his errant girlfriend?’
This was even worse than what it had been in the morning. Fear churned in his gut. Maybe Jane had been pushed, prodded, and provoked to say something to the press. Why else would they quote her?
He had to get to her.
He urged the cab driver to rush, even going as far as saying he’d triple the fare if the bloke got him to Chelsea by stepping on the accelerator.
He was at the flat in record time, and his worst imaginings became real before his eyes when he saw how many reporters and TV crews were stationed on the pavement.
Pushing past them all, he paid no heed to their questions and the microphones they stuck under his nose. If he did, he would kill every single one of them with his bare hands.
Inside the building, he met Charles coming down the stairs.
He froze at the worried look on the older man’s face. “How bad?”
Charles shook his head. Michael took the stairs three by three and barged through her front door to find the twins in the corridor.
They both hugged him and spoke in unison. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
He felt the tension in their bodies, the fear coiled in them. They were worried about her, too. He squeezed them to him quickly before letting go, already on his way to the living room.
He stopped at the sight that greeted him there. Jane s
at on the floor. She had pulled her knees to her, encircling them with her arms. Her eyes stared in the distance, and she rocked back and forth as if in a trance.
He needed to be careful. She appeared traumatized, and he shouldn’t rush her.
He stepped closer.
“Stay away.”
A fist slammed into his stomach. He didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded like a ghost.
“Jane? It’s me.”
She coiled into herself, hugging her knees closer.
“Don’t come near me!” Her voice grew higher with every word.
“Jane. It’s okay. Everything will be fine.” He took another step.
She backed into her ottoman in a mad scramble to put more distance between them.
Michael reached her and dropped to his knees.
“No!”
Her eyes grew wide, but they were unfocused in her pale, drawn face.
“Jane, luv, calm down.”
He reached for her, but she tried to shrug away.
She fought him when he pulled her in his arms. She kept on struggling, but he held her tight.
“Jane, it’s Michael. Calm down.”
Still, she squirmed. Gasps and sobs escaped her, and he started to rock her to try to quiet her.
After a moment, she grew still, and he heaved a sigh.
His relief was short lived when her head lolled back.
“Call an ambulance; she’s unconscious!” he shouted to anyone in the corridor.
***
The ride to the hospital proved to be the longest and most excruciating experience of his life. Every second dragged as he sat beside her in the rushing vehicle. His heart hammered, threatening to break through his rib cage.
If anything were to happen to her ...
He couldn’t even bear to think of it. Watching her as the medical team in the ambulance searched for a vein on her hand to place in an I.V. line, pain like he had never known took hold of him.
He loved her.
He faced the notion head on. Everything he held and owned would pale and fade away if he didn’t have her.