"Easton," I cooed tearfully, wishing like crazy Stellan was in the room with me instead of Vinny and Bax. I scrutinized my son anxiously. Unlike the blurry blue eyes most infants possessed, his were darker and held a reddish tinge. Vampire eyes. Hungry ones.
I sucked in a worried breath. To my enormous relief, though, he latched on to me and began to suckle like a normal infant. My head fell back against my pillow. It looked like our secret was safe. For now.
In the coming days, I would learn the color of my son's eyes was the best way to gauge when he was ready for his next pint of blood. I started volunteering a few days a month at a blood bank, so I had access to the supplies I required. Cords and syringes and such. I know it was dishonest, but I was desperate. Ordering them online would have left a money trail and opened myself up to questions with Bax I wasn't prepared to answer. I also started taking iron pills and drinking gallons of water each day, so I could discreetly pump what I needed from my own veins.
Easton turned out to be an amazing, contented baby. Though he slept little, he didn't cry often. He also showed no intolerance for sunlight. I was grateful yet overwhelmingly sad to be unable to share this news with Stellan. He would have been overjoyed to learn we'd given birth to a son who could walk in the light.
On Easton's one month birthday, Vinny proposed.
I shook my head at him, unable to process a single drop of regret at his disappointed expression. "I'm sorry, Vin, but Stellan was my one and only."
His shoulders stiffened beneath his white and green striped polo shirt, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with understanding. "I know, Grace. Believe me, I know. You and I are like two broken halves, but put us together and we could make a perfectly blended family someday. You, me, and Easton."
"Vin—"
He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. "I know you're always worried about what your father thinks, but he gave us his blessing."
"He did?"
"Just this morning, beautiful."
It irritated me to realize Bax probably liked the idea of Vinny marrying me and thereby making a more respectable woman out of his only daughter.
More out of spite to Bax than anything else, I stalled giving Vinny a final answer for several more weeks. Then, without any heads-up that he was considering going back to work, my father accepted a private contract to do some undercover work for the CIA, and I was left alone — truly alone — for the first time in my life. No family. No friends. And a baby to raise.
The next time Vinny pressed his suit, I accepted. Or gave in, which was probably closer to the truth. I knew in my heart it was one of the worst decisions I'd ever made and would probably live to regret it. However, I was exhausted body and soul, barely holding it together, and Vinny was offering to help.
And so I became engaged for the second time during the eighteenth year of my miserable existence.
Olga
Private, unlisted island near Costa Rica
Antjie remained in her coma for nearly ten months. At first is was Ivan, Stellan, and me pulling shifts to nurse her. Ivan referred to us as three dwarves with our very own sleeping beauty. To me she was just a patient, but Stellan treated her like a true fairytale princess the way he personally checked on her several times a day.
We kept her in the operating room for a few weeks. Then we started to hire our medical staff, and it made sense to move her to a glassed-in room many levels beneath the main surgical center. It was a restricted area, accessible only by personnel wearing specially chipped badges. Stellan saw to it she continued receiving round-the-clock care by a handpicked nursing team.
While Antjie rested and healed, we worked hard to contract out and oversee the completion of the final stages of construction for the surgical center and surrounding resort facilities. It was a delicate process. We carefully selected each specialty crew, monitored every task they executed from start to completion, then Ivan and Stellan compelled them to forget they'd ever worked on the island.
Money was not an issue, so we held nothing back. The surgical center was the heart of the project, spanning thirty stories below sea level. Each floor was octagon shaped and bore triangular rooms with the points cut off by a central elevator chute, a vast spiral stairwell winding its way around it, and a surrounding balcony and lounge rotunda. The overall design reminded me of a spiderweb. Ivan laughed when he heard me call it that. From then on, everything below sea level was dubbed The Web.
The first and second as well as the fourth through eighth sub levels housed the studio apartments assigned to our employees. The sub tenth level housed our submarine arrival and departure chambers. In the near future, Stellan envisioned negotiating top-security government and corporate contracts for the cosmetic alteration and creation of body doubles for high profile persons and wanted to have a way for them to come and go from The Body Park in complete anonymity.
There were dozens of research labs and experiment chambers from the sub eleventh level on down — most of them not yet fully staffed — as well as a central meeting area on the sub third level we called The Grotto because of its built-in waterfalls, fountains, recessed starlights, and other special "earthy" treatments. It was a plaza-like center that would eventually boast a series of boutiques and restaurants around its perimeter for the enjoyment and benefit of our employees. Stellan and Ivan were forced to endure a nocturnal existence, but it didn't keep them from going upscale on everything.
Connected to the surgical center by a glassed-in walkway was our glamorous Welcome Center, which overlooked the runway. It was furnished with every creature comfort imaginable for the benefit of our guests who would wait there to be checked in or escorted on tours. It boasted spectacular views, spacious lounge areas, a well-stocked bar and buffet area with an array of light refreshments, and wide-screen TV’s rolling through carefully selected footage of our island's residents at work and play.
Sprawled beyond the Welcome Center on the beachfront were three resorts housing upscale suites for our guests, and there was plenty of acreage to build more if we ever needed to. We installed storm shelters beneath every major structure as well as storm proof walls and steel rouladins to enclose the glass features of each structure in the event of hurricanes and other tropical storms. Then there were the cabanas, outdoor cafes and bars, and two fresh water pools for those who wanted to swim and sunbathe without getting sand between their toes.
We built walkways and strung party lights. We ordered custom golf carts and shuttles. We interviewed and hired our first lab teams, research and development teams, a host of specialty experimental teams, and a culinary crew — all of which were human. Like the medical staff, however, the security department was a different story. Axel and Nico Graf refused to leave the island while Antjie remained in a coma, so both of them agreed to work security. Not only did it mean they reported to Ivan, it also meant they were the only two humans working security, a fact they remained blissfully uninformed about. Ivan wouldn't have it any other way, insisting security was too important to leave in the hands of a weaker species.
At last, we deemed ourselves ready to open for business. We coordinated what Stellan referred to as a "soft" opening to "iron out any bugs." The official grand opening would take place a few weeks later. Among our first guests were an Arabian prince and his entourage of bodyguards and doubles, a French soldier whose legs had been blown off during a friendly fire exercise, and a trio of filthy rich sisters from a reality show who wanted a nauseating list of cosmetic updates.
"Why?" I snapped at Ivan when the sisters arrived with their mountain of suitcases, trio of yipping toy dogs, and Santa list of personal demands — everything from custom dinner orders to hand-mixed cocktails to round-the-clock room service to personal masseuse sessions.
He gave me a sly grin. "To make the other guests happy, of course."
"You have got to be kidding."
He wasn't.
The Kozlowski sisters gave instant celebrity status to The Body Park. In very
little time, scheduling surgery on our island became the latest, most exclusive trend on the globe. All very hush-hush, of course. Our guests were compelled to forget most the details of their visit. They were allowed to remember only the information we wanted them to remember. It was our sole marketing strategy. Their raving endorsements spread like wildfire along the social channels of the wealthiest and most powerful.
Grand opening day at The Body Park shaped into a phenomenal ordeal of ribbon cutting ceremonies, introductions and presentations, slide shows of before and after pictures, meet and mingle sessions, sumptuous buffet lines, and a late-evening poolside wine and cheese event.
I hadn't rubbed shoulders with so many fawning billionaires since my rescue from the sex slave trade. By the time the wine and cheese poolside event rolled around, I'd had all I could take. I slipped noiselessly from the patio. Unfortunately, my solitude didn't last long.
Ivan found me a half hour later in a shadowy garden beyond the largest pool. He was sporting a new suit color tonight, a rich brown that made me think of chocolate mocha. His feet were encased in dark square-toed ankle boots that gleamed like glass in the moonlight. Gold cuff links winked from his wrists, and a large ruby on his left pinky finger glowed blood red.
I was sitting on a stone bench, exhausted from the festivities — not so much from the physical requirements of the day as the mental requirements. I had constantly been on display, constantly thronged with questions by eager guests, and constantly ogled by men — both staff and guests alike. It had been enough to bring on a shimmer of flashbacks and a massive headache. Hence, my retreat to the shadows.
"There you are." Ivan breezed up to me with two wine glasses in hand.
I accepted the glass he offered but set it down on the bench beside me, too weary to do anything but continue to fret about the flashbacks. The last one had been the most disturbing one — more of a premonition than a flashback — one in which I'd found myself enslaved again. This time, Anatoly himself had been about to ravish me.
I closed my eyes and murmured a hasty glamour spell to tidy my makeup and erase the tired lines I could feel digging their way across my face.
"What's wrong?" Ivan asked, straddling the bench and facing me. He eyed me as if I were the treat of his day despite the sea-spray stains on my emerald cocktail dress.
I rolled my eyes at him. "Some of us do not operate on a bottomless well of energy. Some of us require rest."
"I see," he answered mildly, undeterred by my tart demeanor. "I'll ask again . . . what's wrong, my sweet?"
I shrugged and gazed over the hedges to the beach beyond us. The sky was clear and studded with stars, and a balmy breeze rustled the palm fronds overhead. It would have been a perfect night if it weren't for all the people cluttering it.
"You're unhappy," he noted softly. "Tell me what I can do to fix it." He slid closer on the stone bench, and his knee brushed my thigh.
For a split second, I was returned to my slave days with one of Anatoly's lieutenants pawing me and preparing to haul me back to his bedchambers.
I gasped and recoiled from Ivan's touch, snatching myself leg away from him and scooting to the far end of the bench. The moment I perceived what I had done, I jumped to my feet and headed for the exit to the floral maze. "I'm sorry. I haven't been this tired in. . .longer than I can remember." That was a lie. I would never forget the nauseating exhaustion and bone-deep aches and pains following a night-long romp with any of Anatoly's cruel lieutenants.
Ivan reappeared directly in my path, making me jump in surprise. I hadn't heard or seen him move. "Something's bothering you." Suspicion prickled his dark gaze. "Or someone?"
I waved a hand in exasperation at his incessant prying. "It's nothing. Really. It's just . . . all the people and noise and ogling . . ." My voice dwindled. "Guess I had my fill of it for the day."
His frown deepened. "Did anyone touch you? Or try to hurt you?"
"No, of course not!" I snapped. Since he was standing in my way, I tried to shove past him, but he didn't budge when I pushed against his chest.
He pressed my hand more firmly against his pecs, trapping it there.
"Don't," I pleaded, tugging at my hand. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
He immediately released it, looking more puzzled and concerned than ever.
"It's not you." I brushed a hand over my eyes. "I just need more space, more air."
"Ah. Wrestling with ghosts again tonight, are we?" Ivan's voice held a velvety layer of empathy.
I nodded. I should have known he would understand. No doubt he battled a few of his own ghosts from time to time. He'd started out as a Bolshevik soldier, then was turned and trained to be a vampire lieutenant for one of the oldest, most brutal covens in existence. He'd yet to share with Stellan and me how he'd severed his maker bond with the vicious Vitaly.
"I think I know something that will make you feel better." He moved aside to let me pass but followed me from the maze.
He fell into step beside me on the main park path, and we headed toward the resort that housed my penthouse suite.
"Not now. Please?" I made a motion for him to leave me be. "No offense. I just need to be alone for a bit."
"Allow me to walk you to your room then, and we'll part ways after I tell you what's on my heart. It won't take long. Promise." He crossed his heart.
"Oh, Ivan . . ." I really really really wasn't in the mood for any romantic overtures tonight.
"Hear me out, beautiful. I think you're going to like what I have to say."
I would?
He gave a long-suffering sigh as my penthouse came into view. "I've been crowding you the past few months. Loving you, wanting more, hoping for more . . ."
I tensed, unsure where this conversation was heading.
"I apologize. For all of it. It was wrong of me to keep wining and dining you after you made it clear your heart belongs to someone else."
"Ivan, you don't have to—"
"Yes. I do. Because Grace is dead, and you have a real chance with Stellan again. So this is me." He made a wide sweeping motion with one hand. "Stepping aside and letting you know I won't interfere this time."
The pain in his voice was the only indication of what his words cost him.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You're welcome." His voice was achingly soft.
I struggled to find something to say to lighten his misery, to take the bitter edge off the moment for both of us. He still loved me. That he's been clear about. It made me feel guilty and regretful and utterly horrible.
"I love you, too, you know," I contended softly.
"Not the same way you love him," was his swift return.
"No." Not the same way. Not even close.
For months, I'd wished Ivan would tone down his advances, and I was finally getting my wish. Why then did I feel like bawling my eyes out?
Mortification flooded me at the sound of the first sob. Ivan had never been able to stand the sight of me crying. There was no way he would walk away and return me to my solitude before I got my emotions under control.
"Olga, honey!" He rounded on me and stopped. "Wait a minute. If you're not crying, then who is?"
I wasn't? I rubbed my hands over dry cheeks. I wasn't.
The next sob made us swivel in unison. A tall, pale-faced woman in a white hospital gown stumbled from the shadows. She took a few halting steps in our direction and made another sobbing sound.
Her long, blonde hair blew about her shoulders in a disarray of tangled waves.
"Antjie, is that you?" Ivan's voice was hushed with astonishment.
I stared at her, wondering how she'd managed to exit The Web on her own. Where were her nurses?
She pointed in agitation at her jaw. This time, her voice came out in a moaning slur. She was trying to speak but couldn't. Our sleeping beauty was awake at last and ready for the shock treatments Stellan hoped would bring the nerves back to life in her lower jaw.
"You handle
her, while I inform Stell." Before Ivan could answer, I sprinted in the direction of the smaller pool deck where I'd last seen him mingling with a group of newly hired research scientists.
It was vitally important for me to be the first to share the good news about Antjie. Stellan would be overjoyed. I wanted to be the one responsible for making him feel that way.
Antjie
Thirty minutes earlier
I was fairly certain I was awake, though it felt more like a continuation of my strange and lengthy dreams. I didn't recognize the triangular-shaped white and chrome room surrounding me or any of the strange equipment blinking and whirring on either side of my head. There was a glass wall with a single door leading from the room, but it was too tinted to see through.
It took me several tries to rise to a sitting position. It was shocking how difficult such a simple maneuver turned out to me. Every part of my body ached with stiffness. A glance at my bare legs revealed wide, pink, rash-like circles. Bed sores? How long had I been lying here?
Terrified, I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed. I lost my balance and tumbled to the tile floor in a tangle of I.V. wires and oxygen tubes.
Mercy! I yanked them out one by one, breathing heavily and rubbing the bruised puncture wounds. Where in the world am I?
A round ceiling camera about ten inches wide made a clicking sound, catching my attention. A tiny red light flashed on the other side of its dark dome covering. "Hello!" I shouted at the camera. "Can anyone hear me?"
When no one responded, and rolled from one sore hip to the other. Using the bed for leverage, I struggled to stand. My legs wobbled but they held. I stood there for several minutes, stretching them and taking practice steps while still holding to the edge of the bed. When I thought I could manage it, I made a shaky dash for the far wall and stood there panting, grateful to be upright. I edged my way along the wall to the door and was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. No more than twenty feet from the door was an elevator surrounded by an enormous staircase.
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