So I try to stay calm as I wait in the little apartment. Even though it’s the middle of the night and my water has broken, I try to take deep breaths and still my beating heart. I will deliver this baby on my own.
12
Dylan
I can’t stop thinking about Fiona. How can I make this ugly situation right? I want to, but there’s something stopping me. You don’t deserve her, you don’t deserve her, you don’t deserve her. The phrase echoes through my head. Fuck. I’ll just make it worse if I go back to her. And if the baby turns out to be Ricky’s? I don’t know what I’ll do. Because what if I fall in love with the child? By that point, knowing that he’s my brother’s would be such a blow that it would ruin me. It would unleash the monster inside I’ve never been able to control, and once it’s out - who knows the kind of damage it could do?
I’ve tried to forget her. I’ve tried throwing myself into Karmax, working late nights and weekends. I’ve even thought of dating some new girls but no one even remotely interests me, not even for a fuck. But I get these raging hard-ons. All the time. The image of Fiona’s curvy body will float into my mind, torturing me. Her huge, soft tits spilling into my hands when I grope them, swaying as I fuck her. Her round ass in the air as I push my pulsing cock into her tight little ass, watching her tiny pink pussy gush as I make her come with my cock up her ass, her ass cheeks bouncing with the movement. Her flushed, innocent face, always so full of surprise at how huge my dick is and how much pleasure I can give her each time. It’s all so pornographic, and yet porn can’t satisfy me either, even if I try looking up porn stars that resemble Fiona. All I can do is jack off three times as day, beating my cock as I pretend it’s Fiona’s tight little cunt squeezing it until it explodes. Shit. I’m a pathetic fuck for sure.
But even worse, I have these violent dreams. I’ve been having them more and more frequently, and they've become more intense as the months wear on. They’re about Fiona, and in my dreams, I’m locking her up so she can't get away from me again. I’m tying her up just tightly enough to hold her in place without hurting her. She’s begging me to never let her go, to satisfy her with my cock, tongue, and fingers. To kiss her and hold her. I can’t leave the room, as if I'm the one tied up and not her.
And it’s never enough - in my dreams, no matter how hard I make her cum, no matter how I do it, she's always telling me it’s not good enough. She wants more. She deserves better. The dreams are even more proof I should stay well away from her. My sick mind has no business going near a good girl like Fiona and an innocent baby.
There's always a sense of guilt when I awake, my cock hardened up so tight against my abdomen it hurts, desperate for release. I stroke my throbbing shaft and I imagine it’s Fiona’s sweet tongue. She’s going to catch my come with her soft mouth and suck me dry, and then hold me against her soft tits as she strokes my hair until I fall asleep. I'm constantly caught up in a whirlwind of thinking about Fiona and being horny. Thinking about Fiona and jacking off. Thinking about Fiona and feeling pathetic. Thinking about Fiona and feeling angry. Trying not to think about Fiona while watching porn. Thinking about Fiona and feeling sad. And back to thinking about Fiona and being horny. It never ends. I haven't slept properly in months.
But tonight is different. When I wake up from my dream about Fiona, even though my cock is stiff and ready to go, I resist. Not this time. This time there’s a new kind of feeling mingling in with the horniness and torture - a kind of gut instinct. I sit up and ignore the way my cock sways on its base like a flagpole in the wind, trying to focus on why my heart is beating in my chest like this. I look at my phone and discover no missed calls - so what is it? It’s the middle of the night, but I have a sudden urge to drive to Fiona’s apartment.
I calculated the date of the arrival of the baby and know very well when it’s due - and it’s not for another two weeks. And yet I have a strange feeling that Fiona needs me. Could she be in trouble? The feeling is strong enough that I decide to call her for the first time since I found out she was pregnant. The woman doesn’t answer, her cell going straight to voicemail. Fuck! I throw the phone on my nightstand and try to go back to sleep, flopping down on the mattress.
But I can’t. There’s a voice in the back of my head telling me that she’s in trouble. So like a madman, I throw on my clothes and grab my car keys. It’s fine that she’s not answering her phone; it’s the middle of the night and she probably hates me after all. But it’s odd that it goes straight to voice mail. I need to know if she’s okay, with an urge I can’t explain.
When I arrive at Fiona’s apartment and stand buzzing at her front door, I carry on insistently for a while, not knowing what else to do. The buzzing must have woken one of her neighbors, because a window opens and I hear a grumpy voice yelling down at me.
“Hey! Quit buzzing! It’s the middle of the night!”
I look up to see a sleepy old man looking down at me and take the opportunity to get in.
“I’m looking for Fiona! Could you buzz me in?”
He scowls at me, thinking. “Fiona? The pregnant girl?” he asks, and I nod. He stops to ponder. “She left in a taxi about an hour ago. Lots of noise. Breathing heavily like she’s about to pop. Can’t get any sleep tonight!”
And he closes the window with a bang. But it doesn’t matter, I know what I need to know: Fiona’s in labor! And the baby is early. She needs me! I jump back in the car and drive to the hospital, realizing I don’t even know which one she’s gone to. My hands shaking, I simply dial the nearest one into my GPS and drive straight there, hoping for the best.
I feel as if I’ve just woken from some kind of dream. Like the last few months of torment have just been a useless muddle, just foolish indecisiveness. Because Fiona’s labor has incited a surge of instinct in me, free of thought, free of doubt - I suddenly know that I want to be with her. I suddenly know I don’t care whether the baby is mine or Ricky’s. It’s all so clear to me now, and I need to tell her before it’s too late. Before the baby arrives and she’s decided she doesn’t want me around anymore. Somehow, I feel that if I’m with her during the birth, we can still go through this together and I might be able to make up for not having been with her throughout the pregnancy.
I arrive at the hospital and am relieved to find out she’s there. And I rush to her room, prepared to lay my life at her feet. Storming down the hall and arriving outside her room, I take a few deep breaths and then knock and enter. I was expecting Fiona to be preparing for labor, on her own, furious with me. I was expecting to have to put my case forward as to why should allow me back in my life, to have to fight for her. But what I wasn’t expecting to walk in on Ricky, standing with his arms crossed at the end of her bed … ready to do the same.
13
Dylan
I freeze. Ricky and Fiona had clearly been in the middle of an argument. Ricky stops mid-sentence and glares at me. Fiona, heavily pregnant and draped in a hospital gown, is staring at me with a mixture of shock, surprise, exhaustion, anger, and love. And somehow all of those emotions are abundantly clear.
“What the hell are you doing here?” my twin accuses me. I close the door behind me and bat his question right back.
“What the hell are you?”
Ricky scoffs. “Fiona called me to tell me she was pregnant, and there was a very good chance the baby might be mine.”
My girl interrupts then.
“I called you six months ago, Ricky. And only because I wanted you to do a DNA test, not because I want you around,” she says in a trembling voice.
“I told you, I was in Europe,” retorts Ricky defensively. “I only just got your message when I came back last night!”
That makes Fiona angry.
“And just like that, all of a sudden you want to be a father to my baby? After the way you treated me?” she spits. I’m amused to see her sassiness had gone up a few levels during her pregnancy. She looks absolutely beautiful and glowing, even if she does look uncomfortabl
e.
“Well, I’d like at least to discuss the option. I have the right!” whines Ricky like a spoiled child.
This is going too far too fast.
“Okay, hold on a minute here,” I step in. “I’m not going to just stand by and watch this bullshit.” Ricky glares at me with a venom that would never make anyone believe we were family, let alone twins. “I came here to tell Fiona something important, and I need a moment alone with her,” is my stern command.
Ricky scoffs, taking a few aggressive steps towards me. “I know you fucked her right after we broke up, asshole. I’m not going anywhere. If that’s my baby, I have the right to stay right here.”
Anger starts boiling up inside me, but when I see from the corner of my eye that Fiona is burying her face in her hands, I hold myself back.
“You’ve said your piece, Ricky,” I growl through clenched teeth. “Now get out before I throw you out.”
But my twin has never known when to step down. It’s one of his greatest flaws.
“At least I had the decency to break up with Fiona when it wasn't working out. The way I hear it, you abandoned her as soon as you found out she was pregnant,” Ricky spits at me with a sneer.
I have to fight the urge to punch my own twin brother in the face.
“Get out, Ricky,” I growl again. “What makes you think you have the right to claim him or her?”
Ricky sneers.
“You don’t know anything,” he whines again. “You just want to swoop in like a knight in shining armor. But it’s mine! That baby’s mine!” he exclaims, voice rising to a high-pitched shriek.
I snort.
“The fact that you’re talking about the baby like a piece of property tells me you don’t have the right!” I say, my voice rising dangerously. “Now give me a moment with Fiona!” And I grab Ricky by the front of his shirt with one hand, wrench the door open with the other, and throw him out, locking the door behind him.
I turn to face Fiona, who looks distraught. I compose myself, forcing the aggression and shock at Ricky’s unexpected appearance from my body.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say earnestly. “I had no idea he’d be here. He was the last person I expected to see.”
Fiona sighs, avoiding my gaze. Clearly she wasn't expecting him and isn’t pleased with it. But she’s not exactly happy to see me, either, it seems.
“Fiona,” I say gently in my deep voice. “I need to speak to you.” She doesn’t meet my eyes.
“What could you possibly have to say for yourself?” she asks, her normally innocent, light voice now deep with hurt and disappointment. I take a few steps forward so I can get on my knee beside her bed. Despite her efforts to remain composed, I can see this takes her by surprise. She slowly turns her head to face me.
“I’ve been an idiot,” I say simply and sincerely. “I’ve been miserable for the past six months. All I can think about is you.” Fiona’s big brown eyes flare up with hurt and anger.
“So where were you then? Why did you leave me all alone? What’s changed all of a sudden?” she throws at me. I have to be honest with her and hope she will understand and forgive me.
“I’ve learned a lot about myself since I met you, Fiona,” I say huskily. “Before I met you, all I cared about was making money. Working hard, working out, being the big boss. But when I met you it became clear to me that what I was really doing was keeping a demon at bay.”
“A demon?” she asks, her long lashed blinking, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
I take a deep breath and hope I don’t sound like a madman. This is the first time I’ve uttered these words out loud, let alone to the love of my life. With a surge of passionate warmth, I realize that’s what Fiona is to me. She needs to know the worst parts about me if I’m going to have a life with this gorgeous, innocent girl and our baby. So I begin to tell her my ugly truth, praying furiously that she doesn’t throw me out.
“I’ve always felt like there was a monster inside me,” I continue. “A thing that could be ugly and selfish and destructive. And so all these years I've kept my head down and worked hard and thrown myself into Karmax. I know now that it’s in both Ricky and me, that demon. But what makes us different is that I want to be better. I try to suppress it, whereas he’s let it take over. And now, that’s all Ricky is. A selfish prick who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’s a monster now, with an eye to creating destruction wherever he goes. It’s why we don’t see eye to eye. It’s why he treated you the way he did.”
I stop for a moment, hesitating, but Fiona is listening. So I continue.
“When you told me you were pregnant but you didn't know for sure whether Ricky or I was the father, I was suddenly torn apart. You see, if I stayed I would give myself to you and the baby heart and soul - but if it ever turned out that the baby was Ricky’s, it would destroy me. And that monster that I’ve been keeping at bay all these years would be unleashed. There’s no telling what would happen or who I’d become. Like Ricky, maybe, or worse,” I say in a low voice. Fiona’s still listening, and what’s more, she seems to understand. So I continue. “I couldn't risk that, and as a result, I stayed away. I figured you and the baby would be better off without me.”
Her eyes snap my way suddenly.
“But what if the baby is yours, Dylan?” Fiona accuses me. “There’s just as much chance! You’d be giving up on your child, never mind me.”
I nod in agreement.
“I know,” I rasp, grateful we’re finally having this conversation. “And I hear you loud and clear now. But back then, I wasn’t able to think straight. I was upset at how things were playing out, and completely confused and angry. That changed. And then, I wanted to go back to you, but I was tormented and afraid I was going to screw it all up.”
She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye.
“So what’s changed?” comes her even tone. “What’s different now, Dylan?”
Luckily, I have an easy answer for this question.
“I haven’t stopped dreaming about you, Fiona. Every night,” I add emphatically. And to my enormous relief, she smiles a little, her lips trembling.
“I’ve been dreaming about you, too,” she admits in a soft voice. Encouraged, I reach forward and take her hand in mine, gazing up at her.
“When I woke up tonight, I knew something was up. Even though the baby is coming two weeks early, I had this instinct that this is where I needed to be. With you. Everything became so clear - I don't care whether I am the father or Ricky. I love you. And I will love that baby. I will look after both of you, until the day I die. If you’ll let me,” I say earnestly, looking into her eyes.
Her eyes mist over with emotion, but she doesn’t say anything, throwing me into a semi-panic.
“Please forgive me for being such an idiot, Fiona. I promise I’ll never leave your side again,” I rasp desperately. Before she can reply, there’s is a banging on the door, and Ricky’s voice comes floating through to us. He sounds angry. Something about there being no coffee in the hospital vending machine. That idiot. I exhale in frustration.
“We better let him in before he causes a scene,” I say, stepping over to the door and opening it. Ricky barrels in, furious.
“Enough of this bullshit! What the hell is going on? Fiona?” he demands of her. “By the way, the mud that they serve here is terrible,” he squeaks, one hand clutching a paper coffee cup.
“Look,” she says, exhausted. “I think you should go, Ricky.”
He looks indignant.
“That child could be mine! I have a right!”
I face him squarely.
“That might be the case, but it might not. We can take a paternity test.”
Ricky sneers.
“Don’t be an idiot, we’re identical twin. A paternity test would be useless.”
Here’s where I pull out the big guns.
“Actually,” I reply. “There’s a new technology that we cou
ld use to get a more accurate result. It just takes longer, so you need to stick around for a while instead of jaunting off to Europe,” I add, making his piercing blue eyes flash. “The question you need to ask yourself, Ricky,” I continue, “is whether you even want a child? Whether you can love that child? Whether you can love Fiona and give both of them the life they deserve? Or whether you’re trying to do this so you can have one up on me, after all these years?”
Ricky sneers again.
“Of course I can manage being a dad!” he squeals. But I can tell from the way his voice is trembling that he’s frightened by the prospect. “Of course I can!” he repeats again, eyes bulging. And then contrary to his words, my twin turns and runs out of the hospital room in a huff, making Fiona gasp.
I merely follow his departing form with my eyes, doing nothing.
“I think that’s the last we’ve seen of Ricky,” I say ruefully. “He’s always been a coward, and faced with the prospect of being a father, he turned and ran. As expected.”
But Fiona’s gasp had nothing to do with being shocked at the drama. One look at her and I know she’s in labor.
“Call a doctor,” she breathes in pain. “The baby’s coming!”
My heart pounds in my chest in excitement. Oh shit, is the moment really here? Am I about to become a father? Suddenly, I know that this is the best moment of my life … and I’m ready for it.
#BABYCRAZY: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 6
