LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance

by Glenna Sinclair

  Nicolas didn’t even look at me.

  “I asked you to take her to the doctor. I didn’t tell you to stand out in public and make a fucking spectacle of yourselves. Now her face is on every tabloid and gossip website from here to Timbuktu. Do you realize how fucking screwed up that is? How long do you think it’ll take them to figure out who she really is?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the paparazzi was in the area.”

  “You should have known. That’s your fucking job.”

  Nicolas waved Adam from the room and marched to the bar, pouring himself a stiff drink. However, he didn’t lifted it to his mouth. He just stood there and stared at it, like a dying man staring at the mirage that might or might not be his salvation.

  “It’s not his fault. I was upset and he was just trying to help.”

  Nicolas didn’t turn. I started to get up, feeling the need to go to him, to make him understand, but when I went to push myself up, I forgot about the heavy brace on my hand and pain shot up my arm, making me hiss.

  Nicolas turned then and rushed to me, kneeling in front of me as his eyes searched every inch of my being for the cause of my discomfort. I sat back and cradled my injured hand against my chest, tears again slipping from my eyes. I felt like such an idiot.

  “What was going through your mind, Ana? Why did you break your hand?”

  I shook my head. “I was upset.”

  “About what?”

  I wanted to tell him. I wanted to see him put that greedy nurse in her place. But those dark circles were back under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders told me that this was a man who shouldn’t have to take anymore. I didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain in his life.

  “It’s not Adam’s fault. He was just trying to calm me down.”

  Nicolas ran his hands over my thighs, pushing the material of my dress up until my legs were exposed just above the knee. Then, his hands moved over my belly and one the babies obediently kicked—and that, for some reason, made him stand and walk away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this.”

  “How did it go with the doctor? Are the babies okay?”

  “They did a sonogram. Said everything looks good.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned against the bar and looked at me. “They’re healthy?”

  “As far as they can tell.”

  “And you?” A hint of a smile danced in his eyes as he gestured to my hand. “Besides the three broken bones?”

  “I’m fine. Blood pressure was good. My blood sugars are good. They said everything is progressing just fine.”

  He nodded again, turning back to the drink sitting in the middle of the bar. He wrapped his hands around it and studied it, as though he was having some sort of internal battle with himself. I didn’t understand it, but there was a lot about Nicolas I didn’t understand.

  “They could tell what sex they are. They wrote it down in an envelope in case we wanted to find out together.”

  That got his attention. He came back to the couch and sat beside me, taking my good hand in his. “Did you peek?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “I do. But we never talked about it, so I wasn’t sure you would want me to.”

  “It would make it easier to set up the nursery. I haven’t even gotten started, to be honest. Constance said something about it the other day, but I never answered her.”

  “Where is the nursery?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He stood and held out his hand to me, pulling me upstairs. We walked past my bedroom and his to a door on the opposite of the hall. He pushed it open, and I was immediately struck by how dark it seemed. He flipped on a light, and there was literally nothing baby related in the room. It looked like they’d used it for storage for all the years they were in the house. There were boxes stacked on one side of the room and old furniture all piled together on the other side. Piles of clothes were on the floor and draped over some of the furniture. More boxes and an old wardrobe were against the back wall. It had to have been the most depressing room I’d ever seen.

  “You can’t put them in here.”

  “Why not?”

  I gestured around me as I stepped into the room. “There’s no natural light. It’s so dark—”

  “We were going to paint. I wanted a mural on that wall of elephants and tigers, and the crib was going to go over there.” He pointed to a spot not far from a set of incredibly heavy curtains. He walked over there and threw them open, exposing the room to the most amazing western light. It flooded the room and pointed out every single flaw. “I’m going to have all this stuff moved up to the attic.”

  “What colors were you thinking?”

  He shrugged. “Aurora had her heart set on pink and yellow. But I told her we should make sure it wasn’t going to be a boy before we chose those colors.”

  I bit my lip, an ache building in my chest. I tried to forget that Aurora was still the mother of these babies, even though she’d been in her grave for five months now. I tried to forget that she once shared this house with Nicolas, that she shared the master bedroom with him. I tried to forget that Aurora was ever a part of this picture, but with a casual comment, Nicolas brought it all back.

  I was walking in a dead woman’s shadow. And her shadow was wide and long, one that would forever leave me in darkness, no matter what I thought was going on with Nicolas, whatever I hoped might happen in the future.

  I turned away and pretended to study the walls. It was too easy to imagine Aurora in this room. I wasn’t sure if that was because of what Nicolas had said or because of the clothes and furniture that just seemed so much like her. It should have been her here planning for these babies.

  “We’re not working tomorrow,” Nicolas said, moving up behind me. “We have a series of night shoots coming up, so I’ve decided to give the cast and crew tomorrow to sleep in preparation. So maybe we should spend the day shopping for baby furniture.”

  I wanted to ask, “Are you sure? Are you sure you want me there?” But I was afraid to ask, afraid of what the answer might be.

  Nicolas lay his hands on my shoulders. “We should make a day of it, go to lunch and hit a dozen stores. It’ll be fun.”

  I could picture it. The two of us staring at cribs, debating over the color, the size. Trying to decide which cartoon characters to display with their bedding and mobiles. It was every pregnant woman’s dream, the nesting instinct finally taking control.

  But it wasn’t my fantasy. Not really.

  “Do you want to know?” I asked, pulling the envelope from a deep pocket in my skirt.

  “Is this it?”

  I nodded.

  He sighed heavily against my shoulder, his breath moving my hair around my face. “Is it silly that I’m a little afraid to look?”

  “No.”

  He reached for it, but hesitated before his fingers touched it. Then reached again and snatched it from my fingers. I heard him rip the envelope, heard him slide the paper from inside. And then he laughed, and I knew at least one of the babies was a boy.

  Good for him.

  He turned me around, the biggest smile on his face. He pulled me close and kissed me almost roughly.

  “One of each,” he said with a little laugh. “A son and a daughter. How perfect is that?”

  He kissed me again, pushed me back against the wall, and kissed me with a passion I’d only known with him. My body responded immediately, my hands moving around his waist, searching instantly for that much desired space, that place to slip my fingers under his shirt. I wanted to touch his flesh, wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. He was just as determined. My dress hit the floor in a manner of seconds, his mouth moving from mine to my swollen breasts, my nipples sending shivers of pain and pleasure through my body as he nibbled and kissed them. Then, he was moving lower, dropping to his knees in front of me as he tugged my panties from my wet c
unt.

  Nicolas Costa on his knees. It was likely something few women had ever seen. I tried to enjoy the sight, but the things he was doing with his tongue made that next to impossible. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, the day sliding from my shoulders as my body grew light, pleasure taking away all the pain and frustration and hurt, replacing it with a singular focus on his breath, the moisture of his tongue, the incredible waves of pleasure that rushed through my clit and inspired the fluids running from my inner most places.

  This was so dangerous for me. I knew I would never know anything this perfect ever again. No man would ever have the power to make me feel the way Nicolas Costa did. When this was over, when the babies were here and Nicolas no longer needed me, my life would never be the same. This was the pinnacle of my existence. And that was both exciting beyond words and horribly, tragically sad.

  Chapter 21

  We didn’t go shopping. When the excitement passed, Nicolas remembered that he was trying to pretend he didn’t know me in front of the press. Never mind that my face and name were all over the tabloids just as he’d predicted. But, amazingly enough, they didn’t put two and two together to come up with the surrogacy deal as he’d been afraid they might. They decided I was Adam’s girlfriend, a fact that didn’t do much to keep peace at home because, apparently, Adam was married. In fact, he’d been married for fifteen years—he got married as he was going off to jail—and had two kids, toddlers that were more than a handful for their mother. Apparently.

  There was so much about all of these people I didn’t know.

  Several more weeks passed and the nursery remained a storeroom. I thought about it sometimes and drew a few pictures of what I imagined it should look like. I used to like to design rooms when I was a kid. My mom would take me to her jobs, make me sit quietly in the kitchen doing my homework while she went about her work. Sometimes I would explore the massive houses, mansions that were just as, if not more, impressive as Nicolas’ house. Then I would draw what I saw, moving furniture around, changing the colors or the patterns on the wallpaper. It was a hobby I never fully developed, but it was soothing as I continued to look toward a future that seemed to have no anchor, no direction.

  Kelly found it amusing I was on the front of the tabloids.

  “I always knew one of us would be labeled a slut in the national gossip rags. I just never thought it would be you.”

  “You’re welcome to it.”

  But then she grew concerned, her tone much too serious for the Kelly I knew.

  “Are you okay, kid? He’s not treating you badly, is he?”

  “Constance is here. She’s taking care of me.”

  “That’s good. But she can’t be around all the time, can she?”

  Kelly knew me too well. It took all I had not to cry over the phone, to beg her to come and protect me from my own stupid decisions.

  I was losing hope with every day that passed. Nicolas was gone so often on this movie that I hardly ever saw him. The lawyers still called once a week, but Nicolas was rarely here to answer. It was like he’d decided that he wasn’t going to deal with his legal troubles anymore. Or he’d resigned himself to his fate. And that wasn’t good enough for me.

  I had to do something.

  One afternoon, I went into Nicolas’ office and began to search through his drawers. I wasn’t sure what it was I was looking for, but I had to know more. There was still a bag of Xanax in my nightstand upstairs. The memory of the other drugs still hovered heavy over me. I knew in my heart that Nicolas wasn’t guilty of what they were accusing him of, but I also knew there had to be a simple explanation for it all, for the drugs, the stories, the witness. There had to be something.

  So I searched his drawers. And found nothing.

  Well, not nothing. There were pictures of him and Aurora. Pictures from their wedding, of them on a tropical island, which was probably their honeymoon. There were pictures of them smiling at each other, of them kissing. Pictures in which they appeared deliriously happy. Every one of them was like a knife through my heart. They were together, in a box, inside his desk drawer. That meant something. That meant that he still got them out and looked at them from time to time. There was nothing else in the house that even suggested that Aurora had ever lived there. I’d noticed a little at a time, all the things that were missing. None of her clothes in his closet, none of her toiletries in his bathroom. The collection of figurines she’d so proudly displayed in the living room, the gold trimmed china in the dining room. It was all gone. All, except these pictures.

  When I came across a picture of Nicolas and Aurora with an older woman who was clearly Aurora’s mother—they had the same patrician noses and platinum blond hair—it reminded me of how Nicolas told me he turned to Aurora’s mother for help when her drug addiction began to spiral out of control. But at the press conference just after Nicolas’ arrest, she suggested that Nicolas had gotten her daughter addicted to the drugs himself. She insisted that Nicolas was responsible for Aurora’s death.

  It was the words of a grieving mother. As were her attempts to get the district attorney to press charges—something he still hadn’t committed to. According to the district attorney’s office, the case was still under investigation.

  Aurora’s mother, Virginia, was the driving force in all of this. I wondered if she knew about the babies. I wondered if it would change things, if she knew that Nicolas was trying to do the right thing for Aurora’s children. Would she stop pushing the matter if she knew that she was about to be a grandmother? If I told her, would it change things?

  There was only one way to find out.

  ***

  I found Virginia Davis’ address on an old Christmas card shoved in the back of a drawer in Nicolas’ office. That was the easy part. The hard part was sneaking out of the house in Constance’s old Ford Focus without Adam or any of the other bodyguards any the wiser.

  I told Adam I was going upstairs to take a nap. Then, I snuck down the backstairs and slipped Constance’s keys out of her purse while she was in the garden yelling at the gardener for tracking mud on the carpet in the back hallway. I was out the back gate before anyone even noticed I was gone. It was a lucky escape. I was hoping my luck would hold a while longer.

  Virginia’s house was on the other side of the hills from Nicolas’. I nearly got lost a couple of times trying to find it. Thank goodness for Google Maps! My heart was pounding in my chest as I pulled up to the front of the house. Unlike Nicolas, she didn’t see the need for fences and gates. But, again, there were no paparazzi sitting outside her house, either.

  I didn’t know what to say as I sat in the car in front of her house. I honestly hadn’t been sure I’d make it this far, but I was here now. I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, running my hands slowly over my hips to smooth my dress down. The babies kicked almost as if they knew what I was up to and they wanted to put in their two cents worth. I wondered what they might have said if they really knew. Would they want their grandmother in their lives? Of course they would. What kid didn’t want a grandma to spoil them with gifts?

  I walked to the door and rang the bell, my heart in my throat now. I wasn’t sure how I was going to speak, let alone what I was going to say. All these stupid lines played through my head—I’m your daughter’s surrogate. Want to meet your grandkids? Drop the charges against Nicolas and I’ll make sure you see your grandkids whenever you want. It was stupid, really.

  “Can I help you?” a tall, slender man asked as he moved up behind me.

  “I’m here to see Virginia Davis.”

  “That’s my stepmother,” he said, pushing open the door and gesturing for me to proceed him inside. “Does she know you?”

  “No. But I knew her daughter. Aurora.”

  The man gestured for me to lead the way down a narrow hall that cut off the entryway to the right.

  “Do I know you?” he asked as we walked. “You look familiar.”

  The pictures
from the tabloids flashed through my mind, but I didn’t say anything. He touched my shoulder to direct me to the left. We walked for a full minute before we came to a door that opened onto a long, brick patio. Virginia Davis was sitting out there, reading a book at a large, comfortable outdoor dining table. There was a glass of wine on the table in front of her and a plate of fruit that looked incredible to my always hungry baby bump.

  The babies moved again. I touched my belly, silently urging them to settle down.

  “Daniel,” Virginia said, as she put her book down and watched us walk toward her. “I didn’t realize you were bringing company.”

  “She came on her own. She was at the front door when I arrived.”

  “Oh.” Virginia looked me over for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “You’re that girl from the tabloids. The one who was in a romantic clutch with Nicolas’ bodyguard.”

  “We’re not involved,” I said quickly. “The paparazzi got it wrong.”

  “Didn’t look wrong to me,” Daniel said, shooting me a look that I didn’t appreciate. I touched my belly again, trying to remind myself I was there to do a good thing.

  “Well, whatever it was, you are that girl?”

  Virginia was watching me with more than curiosity in her eyes. There was judgment there as well. A part of me wanted to run as fast and as far as I could, but I again reminded myself I was there for a reason. And that reason was a good one.

  “I am.”

  “Then you’re a friend of Nicolas?”

  “That’s why I came to see you. I wanted to talk to you about Nicolas.”

  Her eyes dropped to my belly. “Well, if it has anything to do with your condition, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Oh, come on, Virgi,” the man, Daniel, said. “Give her a chance. She came all this way.”

  “It’s important,” I said.

  Virginia studied me for a long second. “Alright. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

  Daniel came over and pulled a chair out for me. I smiled at him gratefully. My back was aching from being on my feet a little more than I should have been. The bigger my belly got, the more punishment my back took. Some days, I just wasn’t sure my body would be able to take much more of this.