by Juniper Hart
I need to get rid of that jacket, Sage thought, embarrassed, as they entered the lobby of the condo. Nodding at the concierge, Dayna produced her key and the two of them stepped onto the elevator. As if in a trance, Sage was suddenly inside the Catalonia Hotel, pinned against the glass, that first time she had been with Cruz.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dayna asked. “You’re still really pale.” Sage shook her head.
“I’m not feeling that great,” she admitted. “I think I need to lie down.”
“All right. We’re almost home.”
You have spent enough time pining over a potential criminal whom you fell for. I think you need to end your mourning period and move on with your pathetic life. Shame flooded her, and she chided herself for thinking of Cruz in such terms. She knew he wasn’t anything like that, but she couldn’t help the bitterness from overcoming her. I believe this is what they call “sour grapes”. Aesop wrote a story about me. I was the fox.
“I’ll call the in-house doctor. I’m flying out to San Fran tomorrow. I can’t really call in sick the second they promote me, can I?” Sage continued.
Dayna nodded approvingly, and they stepped off the elevator at the fifteenth floor.
“Want me to tuck you in?” she teased, and Sage smiled.
“No, I’m good. I’m going to drink a gallon of water, pop an Advil, and call Dr. Biggs.”
“Don’t you ever wish that Dr. Biggs lived up to his name?” Dayna asked wistfully as she stopped by her apartment, digging for her house keys. Sage groaned.
“Not even once,” she protested. “He’s like seventy!”
“He’s a hot seventy… like Sean Connery or Kirk Douglas.” Sage shuddered and allowed herself into her own unit.
“See ya, Day. Thanks for the picnic,” she called. Dayna waved in response, closing the door to her own apartment.
Inside her condo, Sage headed straight for the fridge for a bottle of water, but she was already feeling better. Still, she didn’t want to take any chances, so she texted the onsite doctor. She had barely settled on the sofa with a movie and a blanket when a knock came at the door.
“That was fast,” Sage told Dr. Biggs as the decrepit physician shuffled into the apartment.
Jesus Christ, the man can barely walk. How could he possibly even get it up? What is wrong with Dayna? She wondered what was wrong with her, thinking of the old man in such a way. She silently cursed her friend for putting such lewd thoughts in her head, but she couldn’t suppress the idiotic grin on her face as the idea refused to leave her mind. God, I’m going to miss working with her. We had so much fun when we were on flights together.
She reminded herself that she would still see Dayna often. Dr. Biggs smiled briefly, and Sage got the distinct impression he didn’t want to be there.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked without preamble, standing awkwardly in the living room, his medical bag in hand. Suddenly, Sage felt foolish.
“It’s probably nothing. I was in the park enjoying some wine today, and I passed out for a minute. It’s likely heatstroke, but I’m flying out in the morning, so…”
Dr. Biggs moved toward her, his hand pressing against her face. “You’re a bit warm, but you said you were in the sun. Let me take your temperature and blood pressure.”
Obediently, Sage stuck out her arm and let the doctor put the thermometer in her mouth.
“Any other symptoms?” he asked. “Dizziness? Nausea?”
“The usual pre- and post-flight stuff, but nothing out of the ordinary,” Sage answered. Dr. Biggs chuckled without mirth.
“How would you know if it was out of the ordinary?” he replied. Sage admitted to herself that he had a point. Her life ensured that normal body functions were obsolete, creating hormonal imbalances, causing her blood pressure to rise and fall, among other dangers such as being subject to dehydration and bowel issues.
“Temp is slightly up. Blood pressure looks good. It’s probably heat stroke. Drink lots of water and get some rest. If this happens again or you feel worse, call me.”
“Okay. Thanks, doc,” Sage said.
That was an incredible waste of time, she thought, seeing him to the door. He just told me what I already knew for myself, and I probably aged him ten years by having him come here.
When he left, Sage made her way back to the huge master bedroom and opened the walk-in closet. At the back, near the once worn bridesmaid dresses and expensive cocktail gowns, was Cruz’s dark blue Gucci jacket. She leaned forward and stuck her nose into the fabric, inhaling deeply.
I’m going to throw this out, she thought. I swear I am. When I get back from San Fran. Or next week, when I’m off for three days. Yeah, I’ll do some spring cleaning and get rid of this. She knew she was lying, but she played the game in her head, anyway. She’d told herself the same thing before, and yet the jacket remained in spite of her best intentions.
Suddenly, a wave of sickness wracked her body, and Sage dropped the jacket, bolting into her ensuite bathroom. On her knees, she wretched into the toilet, just barely making it to the porcelain bowl. Another dangerous round of dizziness coursed through her body, and black spots danced before her eyes. Sage held fast to the rim to keep her balance. Over and over she vomited until there was nothing left, and she lay panting shallowly on the ground.
Oh...
Very slowly, her hands found themselves on her flat, toned belly, where she felt a small bump which had not been there before. Onward her palms traveled, until she was cupping her breasts. The touch made her flinch slightly as she realized how swollen and full they had become. Suddenly, she became aware of a dull aching in her lower back which had been there for weeks.
Oh. The world was spinning again, but this was a result of her own psyche beginning to crack. When was the last time I had my period?
Being late and missing a period meant nothing to seasoned inflight attendants. The altitudes and hemisphere changes wreaked havoc on the best of them, so it was not uncommon for a monthly visitor not to rear its ugly head. It was just another perk of the job… unless you needed it for tracking purposes.
Laboriously, Sage sat up, blearily staring around the bathroom as if seeking a sign, but what other sign did she need? The answer was blindingly clear, whether she liked it or not.
It’s not heatstroke. I’m pregnant.
9
“I understand your policies,” Cruz said tersely. “But it is very important that I contact her.”
“I understand your position, Mr. Reyes, but I’m afraid I can’t simply give out information on our staff.”
He listened to the monotonous response on the other end of the phone and felt his knuckles tighten around the phone.
“Is there anyone who can help me?” he finally asked, realizing that he was getting nowhere. For two hours, he had tried to locate anyone who might be able to help him find the woman who had been haunting his dreams for months, to no avail.
“I suggest you email the proper channels, sir, but I assure you that you will not have better luck in finding personal information on a flight attendant. Those are just the facts, sir. I don’t want to get your hopes up for nothing.”
Cruz ground his teeth together to keep from screaming, knowing that it wasn’t the fault of the nasal-voiced woman on the other end of the phone. She was just doing her job, mistakenly believing that she was somehow protecting Sage from a stalker or something.
And it’s making me feel like a stalker in the process, he thought grimly. Not for the first time, he wondered if he wasn’t making a mistake trying to find her. Nothing had changed, not really. He still needed to deal with his father, and if, by some miracle, he found Sage, he couldn’t very well bring her home to him.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?” The woman didn’t hide her annoyance.
“No, thank you. I’ll do as you suggested.” He clicked the end button and glared at the device, like the phone was somehow to blame for his inability to find
Sage.
I don’t even know her surname. Perhaps if I told them who I am— No! He blocked the thought from going any further. He wasn’t about to start throwing his name around. There were eyes and ears everywhere. No one could know he was looking for Sage. It could potentially put her in danger. And I should be focusing on my business now, not tracking down a woman who probably hates my guts… even if I know she’s my mate.
He just needed to have faith in the idea that he and Sage would find one another again, despite all that was going on around them. It didn’t make the waiting any easier, but what else could Cruz do? And now that he had bequeathed the sword to the undeserving pack, he needed to refocus his attention on what was happening in his own backyard and the wrath of his own family because of it.
Because if I don’t have one problem, I have another one. Like Crakat.
“You cost us millions of Euros!” his father had screamed when he learned what Cruz had done. “You had one job, Cruz. How could you have been so blatantly ignorant?”
It had little to do with ignorance and everything to do with Cruz’s moral compass. What the rest of his company had proposed was not only immoral, but also borderline illegal.
How could they think I would have so easily gone along with it when Matin did everything he could to get out from under it?
Crakat was a Spanish company which had taken off when it introduced a line of anti-theft microchips. The design was diverse enough that it could be used in almost every conceivable retail item, but it was undetectable, so shoplifters would have no way of knowing which items were marked. They were reusable, durable, and unpatented. The man who had invented them, Salvatore Santos, was a simple man from peasant stock. His family had only ever known a life of servitude, tailoring clothes for generations, but Salvatore had taken a keen interest in technology. Inspired by the constant theft his family had endured over the years, he made it his mission to invent something foolproof.
Word of this contraption quickly got out, and Cruz’s father had swooped in with his own funding, taking the unsuspecting tailor under his wing. Cruz and Matin had both watched as their father groomed Salvatore as he had so many others, comforting his fears, entertaining his family at his house on the island in the Red Sea, and filling his ears with the promise of riches to come.
And like the others, Jett Reyes had pulled the rug out from beneath Salvatore’s feet, patenting the microchip under the Reyes Corporation and hostilely taking over his company.
It had then been Cruz’s job to step into Crakat, inform Salvatore of what had happened, and give his staff seventy-two hours to vacate the premises. But by this time, Matin had passed away, and Cruz was no longer the money-hungry bastard that their father had raised. His ambition seemed to have died with his brother, leaving only a deep abyss of needing to make matters right.
Instead of following his father’s plan, Cruz had informed Salvatore of what Jett had done and produced a contract offering him 200 million euros for his invention. Furious, the Spaniard had threatened to sue, but Cruz had explained to him that he would never win, and it would cost him much more than what he was being offered after being tied up in court for decades. It hadn’t felt good, but given the alternative, it was the only way he could think of to get the man a fair deal.
“Your children’s children will be fighting this battle, should you choose to refuse this offer and file a civil claim,” Cruz had told him sadly but without guile. Salvatore had believed him and begrudgingly accepted the deal. The old Spaniard had realized that, at least this way, his children would be provided for.
Jett had been livid.
“Who gave you the authority to perform such a treacherous act? Retract the deal at once!” his father had screamed, but Cruz had flatly informed him that the contract was binding. He had ensured it through three separate lawyers, none of them commissioned by the Reyes Corporation. “Then get them off my property at once!” had been Jett’s final demand, knowing that he had been betrayed by his heir.
Even so, the entire act had filled Cruz with bile, and no amount of fine scotch would stifle the guilt in which he was engulfed.
He wondered how his twin had done such deeds before he had died. Being older by seven minutes, Matin had been next in line for Jett’s empire. It had suited Cruz just fine, as Matin had more of his father’s unbending qualities, while the younger son had always been the gentler boy. Even so, Cruz found it difficult to believe that living a life of unscrupulous behavior had been easy for Matin. A twisted side of Cruz envied his brother for being deceased.
Father has ruined one of the most beautiful places in the world for me. I will never go back to Spain, he vowed, looking out of his flat into the world below. I ruined innocent lives on my father’s behalf, lost the demon-slayer, and I lost the woman I was destined to be with.
The last thought surprised him, although he didn’t know why. He had never been more certain that Sage was fated to be with him. It was beyond the incredible physical chemistry they shared. Every night he went to bed, the scent of her succulent skin filled his nose. Cruz could relive the moments of the thirty-six hours he had spent with Sage over and over in his head.
He wondered where she was and what she was doing. It had been almost three months since he had left her at the Catalonia Hotel, but he could still remember exactly the way she had looked at him when she asked if he was returning. The image never stopped soaking him in guilt. There was so much of it: for work, for the pack, for Sage. Even for Matin, who did not deserve to be dead.
If I do find her, she will hate me, anyway. I cannot fault her for that. I need to let her go. He knew that was easier said than done, particularly since he had no intention of letting her go. But how? How will I find her when I know nothing about her? And if I do find her, I will only have to leave her again. I must walk away, for her safety. I cannot pursue this. If only I could close my eyes without seeing her face.
His phone was ringing again, and Cruz scowled at the screen. “Yes, Father?”
“I need you to come to the island immediately.” As usual, Jett did not wait for a response before disconnecting. Cruz gritted his teeth.
What if I don’t? he thought rebelliously. What if I simply sit here in my apartment and ignore his phone calls?
He knew precisely what would happen. The goons would appear at his door, and he would end up on a plane regardless. He had finally managed to shake them off his tail. He had no desire to see Kalim and Hasan again, even if he knew he would have no problem taking them both if push came to shove.
And why does he not send a jet for me, if it is such an urgent matter? Cruz thought bitterly. He knew it was because it was not so much an urgent matter as it was Jett wishing to make his son jump on command. There really was no rest for the wicked.
Sighing, Cruz flipped open his laptop to book a ticket on the next flight to Eritrea. As he logged onto the Northeastern Airlines website, he felt a surge of hope bolt through him.
Perhaps Sage will be on this flight. That would be an interesting twist of fate. Father sending for me and landing me directly in Sage’s lap. And if Sage is not on the flight, perhaps someone who knows her will be.
With a renewed sense of energy, Cruz clicked the purchase option and crossed his fingers. Fate had led them together once—it might just do the trick again.
10
Sage wisely did not call Dr. Biggs back to confirm her suspicion. Instead, she took the train across town and visited a walk-in clinic in the Bronx, where she was sure she would not be recognized.
“Yes, Ms. Aubin, you are pregnant!” the chipper nurse declared, and Sage cringed at her loud tone.
Does your hearing also become ultra sensitive when you’re knocked up? she asked herself. Or is she just really obnoxious?
“I see,” Sage said stoically. “How far along?”
“We won’t know until you get in for an ultrasound, but judging by your symptoms, I would guess no more than three months. Morning sickness usually
disappears after three months.”
The baby is definitely Cruz’s. He was the only one I was stupid enough to have unprotected sex with… over and over and over… in every room of the suite and in the elevator under the security cameras. To her shock and embarrassment, Sage found herself getting damp between her thighs thinking about the ways they had made love in the hours they had spent together.
“Now, the doctor can recommend some prenatal vitamins for you…” The nurse continued to drone on, and a thousand thoughts passed through Sage’s mind as she watched the woman continue to talk. She couldn’t have the baby. She had just been promoted to purser. The baby had no father. She had no future without being a part of the cabin crew. There was no way.
The thought of terminating the pregnancy was moot. Shifters simply did not abort their babies. The bloodline must continue, and that had always been ingrained in Sage, even if she was far removed from all things shifter-related.
But what if she couldn’t? She couldn’t finance a child. She didn’t have any support from her family. Who was going to help? Dayna? What if she ruined its life because of her irrational behavior?
“Ms. Aubin? Do you have any questions?” Numbly, Sage shook her head and rose to her feet. She swallowed a sob.
“Thank you for your help,” she whispered, turning for the door.
“Stop at the front desk so they can arrange for an ultrasound,” the nurse chattered, but Sage was already out the door. She did not pause to make the booking. She wanted to flee the clinic before the tears began to fall.
This isn’t fair to a kid, she thought miserably, walking through the streets. She didn’t even realize she had gone the wrong way to catch the train. A baby deserves both parents, not a single mom with eight days off a month.
She stopped abruptly as her own words replayed in her head. The baby had both parents. It had a very wealthy father who could provide for it. She simply had to find out where he was and make him own up to it.
