by S. Nelson
“I don’t care if you believe me or not. But I didn’t want this. And besides, I didn’t force you to fuck me without a condom. You act like I’m the only one responsible here.”
Well, that little statement gets quite the reaction from him. He stops pacing and shoots me some fierce daggers. “You tricked me, you bitch.” His blue eyes darken and his nostrils flare while the ticks of his jaw remind me of an uncontrollable spasm. The rapid expansion of his chest heaving in and out is also a clear indicator he’s beyond upset with me.
Giving it a quick thought, I realize he had every right to say that. I did trick him. I tricked him into thinking I wanted him to force himself on me. What I didn’t do was trick him into not wearing a condom. We both share that responsibility here, and he isn’t going to pin the whole thing on me. Not all alone.
“I didn’t trick you into not protecting your precious little dick, now, did I?” I really should learn when to shut up.
“Little dick?” Of course that’s the part he chooses to focus on. He’s such a guy. “Do you need a reminder of just how not little my dick is?” He takes a few steps toward me and stops, trying to be intimidating enough for me to cower. It’s working. He’s really enraged. If it’s my intention to have him leave soon, I should really keep quiet. But of course, there’s a disconnect between my rebellious brain and my ballsy mouth.
“Yeah, you reminded me last night when you stripped naked and pinned me to the bed.” Oh, for Christ’s sake, Essie. Shut up!
His look of rage is replaced by fear. “Did we have sex last night?”
I don’t know why I’m contemplating releasing him of any feelings of guilt or regret. I should go ahead and mess with him because he’s not going to make my stay here any easier. But I’ve done enough to this man. The least I can do is tell him the truth. This time. “No, we didn’t.”
There. That does it. I see the fear flee from his eyes, only to be replaced with anger once again. Anger at me. Anger at this whole situation.
Since neither one of us knows what else to say at this point, he decides to leave but not before asking me if I’m hungry, to which I reply a simple no. I can’t even think about food right now. I’m already sick to my stomach, and it has everything to do with what transpired in the past day.
He leaves the room, taking with him the hope that anything is going to go my way from here on out.
The next morning does nothing but bring more questions and more uncertainty. I know he’s going to want a paternity test, even though I know without a doubt this is indeed his child. I have to get some things out on the table, and there is never a good time like the present.
So I wait for him. I’m always waiting for him. Everything is done or said on his terms and his precious time. It’s rather quite annoying; something I’m not used to dealing with. I’m always in control, except for the rare instance when I was not. But that was long ago. It won’t happen again. I’ve worked too hard to ever be put back into those circumstances.
Hence, tricking Drayden.
He doesn’t bring me my breakfast, instead waiting until lunch time to make his daily appearance. He must have come from a meeting of some sort because he’s dressed in one of his impeccable designer suits, the dark fabric really making his blue eyes pop. He really is quite gorgeous. I’m sure he has to fight the women off everywhere he goes. Or not. The more I think about it, he probably went right back to bedding every woman in sight.
My body tenses. Why does the thought unnerve me? Make me jealous? I can’t stand the man. He’s arrogant and downright mean when he wants to be, treating me no more than a common whore. But I guess I handed it to him on a silver platter, proving to be nothing more than a gold digger, only looking to get my hands on his money. But some things have changed since that fateful day. There is an undeniable attraction between us, but I royally fucked things up with my greed. There is no getting him now; not that I even want him. Do I?
No, of course not.
This is not how you start a relationship. Not that I would know anything about it. I’ve never been in a relationship in my life, only being the object of men’s desire. Some was of my own will. Some not.
I’m not sure which one Drayden is shaping out to be. The other night, I thought he was going to cross the line, but he didn’t. Would he have remained true to his word and not forced himself on me? Would I have willingly given myself to him like he predicted?
I guess I’ll never know.
I know I remind him of everything which is going wrong in his precious little planned-out life. The girl who managed to snag his seed, locked away somewhere in his house. You can’t dream this shit up. It’s too good…or bad, depending on how one looks at it. For me, it’s bad. For Drayden, well, I’m not sure how exactly he views our situation. I’m sure he sees me as a nuisance, a mere problem who will eventually go away. But from his own admission, he thought for the longest time he was unable to have children. And here I am, presenting him with the very thing he thought was unattainable. But how does he feel about that? Is he happy? Is he angry? How long ago was the accident and how long has he been living with the fact he can’t ever have an heir? Does he even care?
There are way too many questions, and I know I’m not going to get an answer to any of them right now. The simple fact is Drayden Warner is the type of man who is always in control, who always tries to predict the outcome of any situation in which he finds himself, whether it’s of a business nature or a personal one. Well, this is one situation where he has no say, and I personally know what it’s like to be thrown into a scenario where the control is just outside of your grasp. It messes with you, with your very essence and sense of self.
If he’s feeling even an ounce of what I feel when all the power is taken away then he is surely not a happy camper and not someone to mess with right now, or ever.
I’ll forever be a reminder to him something didn’t go his way. That he was tricked and taken advantage of. If I ever thought somewhere in my twisted mind we could ever be something more, someday, that thought went right out the window once my eyes bore into his. Once I truly saw the way he looked at me. I’m not talking about the lust in his eyes when he peruses my body. No, I’m talking about the look of disgust and regret woven into his stare when he really looks at me.
I’m so lost in my own head, I completely blank on the fact he’s here in my room with me. He places a tray of food on the bedside table, glances over at me and then makes his way back toward the door to leave. That’s it? Nothing? He can’t even say anything to me? Well, to Hell with that.
“Hey!” I shout out as I straighten my back, preparing for yet another round.
His only response is to stop before he leaves, never turning around. “What?”
“What’s the plan, big guy? Where do we go from here?” I’m not quite sure what I’m expecting, but if I’m paying attention at all, I should have seen his form go rigid, the mere thought of dealing with me today apparently too much for him to handle. I kind of miss the back and forth between us, even if it’s always of a negative connotation.
“I’m having a doctor come by later today to do a blood test, just in case. But I can’t test for paternity until you’re at least ten weeks along.” He still never turns around, his head facing straight ahead of him.
“Are you kidding me? You’re going to keep me locked up that long? You can’t do that!” I say, flying off the bed, trying to get to him before he escapes my little dungeon. I make the mistake of touching him, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. I’m desperate for him to look at me, to give me something, but he never does. He shrugs away from my hand and leaves the room, locking me back in, surrounded by all my fears and uncertainty.
{ Chapter 11 }
Drayden is true to his word. He has a doctor make a house call, draw blood work and confirm I am indeed pregnant. Now, all I have to do is wait until I’m about ten weeks along so he can confirm he’s truly the father. I know he is, but of course he isn’t g
oing to take my word for it.
I’m going stir-crazy with each passing day. I have nothing to occupy my time in this God-forsaken room except television and the few books and magazines I was given. I’m beyond bored and tired of thinking about what is going to happen next. Worrying about each day as it creeps up on me is quite nerve-wracking. I have nothing but time to reflect on my situation; a situation I had a hand in creating, even though I don’t like to admit that to myself. Couldn’t he have just threatened my life to get his hands on the evidence like a normal person? No. What does this jackass do instead? He kidnaps me and keeps me hidden away until he decides what he wants to do with me.
Talk about taking things to the extreme.
The more time I have to think, the worse off I become. I’m actually starting to think of ways to surprise and overpower him just to be able to escape. But no scenario I come up with will work; he is way too strong and I’m sure way too clever. I can’t underestimate him. Not anymore. Look what happened the last time I thought he was just another chump.
Finally, after two days, Drayden makes an appearance. By this point, I am utterly desperate for some human conversation, even if he’s going to act like a jerk.
It must be late because my stomach is trying to eat right through me. I haven’t eaten in quite some time, lunch being served hours ago. You would think he would bring me food more often because I am, after all, eating for two now. Oh, my God, I can’t even believe that thought came to mind. Most days I forget I’m pregnant, mainly because I don’t feel any different. The only times I’m truly reminded is when certain smells set me off, instantly making me nauseous. That, and the minor shifts in my moods which take over without warning. But is that really due to being pregnant? Or is it because I’m being held against my will?
He briefly makes eye contact with me before setting my food down on the bedside table. He looks like he’s going to say something then decides against it, but after a brief moment, he speaks. “The doctor told me to give you these. Take one a day.” He throws the bottle on the bed. What a jerk! He can’t even hand them to me like a civilized person.
When I pick it up, I realize that what he so callously threw was a bottle of prenatal vitamins.
“Are there any side effects? Do I take them with food or on an empty stomach?” I’m trying to determine what the label says but my frustration has clouded my vision and I can’t read it as quickly as I want to.
“He said to take one a day. So just do it without asking me all these damn questions.” Jeez, he’s in a sour mood today, more so than usual.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” I walk around him, trying my best to ignore his outburst while I make my way over to grab a sweater. I’m a bit chilly, and I don’t feel like having my nipples on display in front of him.
He stops me before I make it to the closet, his fingers laced around my wrist. “Don’t give me any of your attitude, Essie. I’m in no mood for your crap today.” He releases me and makes his way to the bathroom. I didn’t even notice he brought in another bag with him. I guess I’m too focused on the fact he actually showed up.
When I follow him, I see he’s putting some toiletries away. Standing so close to him is a mistake. When he tries to move past me, our bodies make brief contact. I’m instantly aroused but make a face of disgust, trying not to appear anything but annoyed with his presence.
He chuckles. What the hell is so funny? And how can he switch moods like that? I thought I was the one who was experiencing hormonal changes at the drop of a hat.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Are you cold, Essie? Or are you just happy to see me?” I instantly look down and see what he’s referring to. My nipples are at full attention, staring at him in all their glory.
I cross my hands over my chest, trying to conceal the tight buds. “I’m cold, so don’t flatter yourself.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles before making his way to leave. I run over to him, putting my hand on his arm. He turns around and looks at me, waiting for me to explain what it is I think I’m doing.
“Can you please bring me a book about pregnancy? I have no idea what to expect here and I’m kind of freaking out.”
“I find it hard to believe no one has ever had the displeasure of creating an offspring with you before. You know, the type of girl you are and everything.” He smirks, cocking up his eyebrow in victory. Even his arrogance adds to his beautiful face, making me forget for a split second he just insulted me. Again.
It takes me another second for my brain to process what he said to me. And as soon as it penetrates, I’m livid.
Beyond livid, actually.
“Fuck you!” I shout in his face. “I’ve never been pregnant. Ever! And contrary to what you think about me, I’m not a whore. I can count how many people I’ve had sex with on one hand, including you.” I turn away so he can’t see I’m about to cry. “And that includes the ones who forced themselves on me.” I say this last part under my breath, not really wanting him to know more about me than is necessary.
“What? What did you just say?” I can sense he’s getting closer to me.
“Nothing.” I try to take a few steps further away from him but it’s no good. Before I can escape, he turns me around and holds me steady, his hands resting roughly on my hips. I make the mistake of looking into his piercing eyes and that’s when I see it. He’s itching for a fight, but this is one I don’t want to have. Not right now.
“Come on. Did you say something about someone forcing you to do something? Because that’s probably what you wanted. Were you trying to trick them, too?” He shakes me a little to drive home his question, as if I’m not already attuned to what he just asked me.
It’s as if time stands still for me in that moment. My brain is trying to catch up with my body and before I know it, I break his hold on me and fly at him, pummeling him with my small fists. My sudden outburst catches him off-guard and he stumbles back a few steps before righting himself. The look of pure surprise would have been amusing if I wasn’t set on killing him in that very moment. How dare he trivialize the tragedy I endured, sometimes fearing my insignificant life was going to come to an end!
“Essie, what the hell? Calm down!” he roars at me, before gripping me back up, bringing my face closer to his so I can see how serious he is. But I don’t care. Everything which has been building up since the day he brought me here all comes to a head. I don’t care what happens; I have to let it out before it makes me rot from the inside out.
Then, I do something which, surprisingly, I’ve never done to another living person. Ever.
I spit in his face.
I’m enraged. At him. At myself. At this whole damn situation. And that act is the only thing I can think of to show him how infuriated and sickened he just made me feel.
His eyes go wide, making the most terrifying face I have ever seen on any man. And I’ve been mixed up with the worst of the worst during my life, so that’s saying a lot. I did one of the worst, most degrading things you could do to another human being. I regret it almost immediately, but I can’t let him know it. I can’t let him see me falter, in any way.
“You want to spit at me like a wild fucking animal? Huh?” he yells in my face. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll treat you like. Like nothing more than a Goddamn dog.” He lifts up his shirt and wipes my saliva from his face, shivering in his own indignation.
I clearly went too far but I can’t take it back, not now.
He moves toward me and I instinctually take a step back. He reaches out and at first, I think he’s going to strike me, so I cower. But instead, he swipes the food tray, sending everything flying all about the room, glass crashing against the nearest wall and shattering into tiny pieces all over the floor.
Great. Now what am I going to do? I’m fucking starving. Well, you should have thought about that before you spit in the man’s face.
Drayden looks truly psychotic with the way he’s ranting and raving all ove
r the place, chest expanding faster and faster as the seconds tick past us. He grabs the nearest lamp and flings it against the wall, adding to the already-destructive nature of my room. With all that’s happening, I didn’t even notice the bedroom door slightly open. When he reaches for the vase on the dresser, I make a mad dash for escape. I fly past him, almost tripping over the mess on the floor. Thank God I’m wearing slippers or I would have cut up my feet. Grabbing the door handle, I fling the barrier open and run down the hallway, trying to make out ten feet in front of me. This house is so fucking dark. Where the hell are all the lights?
But before I can even make it around the corner, I’m hoisted in the air by strong arms and carried literally kicking and screaming back to my solitary confinement. When he’s close enough, he tosses me on the bed, pinning me down with his own weight.
“Get off me!” I howl.
“Stop acting like a lunatic, Essie. Right now!” His hold on me is fierce, bruising my skin instantly, but I don’t stop. I’m really not making any headway, but I keep trying just the same. “Knock it off!” he shouts again.
I don’t.
So he waits me out until I become too tired to continue my antics. Exhaustion sets in rather quickly. Reality’s hands creep up around my body, feeling and penetrating me, evoking sadness and pain.
I can’t keep the tears at bay anymore.
I release everything I have inside me.
I bawl. I need to free this toxic poison from my system in order to heal, in order to think again.
