Vanquished (The Encounter #3)

by Pamela Ann

  I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. Well, I was most definitely grinning now.

  “How can I not?” I languidly quipped back. “Great food and even greater company. Thanks for taking me out this evening, Julien.”

  “That’s the effect of rejoining the land of the living. I admit it’s tricky to be out and about given your predicament, but once in a while, try to indulge in it. That’s why I hired those men to protect you. With you stuck in the hotel, you’ve made their jobs quite easy to accomplish,” he teased with his eyes sparkling then took a lengthy sip of his wine.

  He had a point. So long as I could muster up the energy, I would definitely try to come out of my hiding and start being more active.

  “I promise I’ll try not to deprive them of doing their jobs by joining the hectic bustle of the city’s streets.” I was, after all, in the Big Apple for the first time, so I should try to get to know the city before we left for Miami in less than a week’s time.

  Our conversation halted when the wait staff cleared our table while another refilled Julien’s near-empty glass with his favored brand of Cabernet Sauvignon. With the table cleared of dishes, they then brought us crème brûlée, lemon soufflé, and a variety of fresh fruit flavored sorbet. My mouth instantly watered. The mere sight of these lovelies gave me butterflies.

  “Oh my,” I gushed as my ravening gaze flickered back and forth, wondering which one I should attack first. “I’m beyond satiated, but for these sweet little darlings, I’ll surely indulge away.”

  “You look like the cat that got the cream,” he commented, amused, as he nursed his drink while I busied myself with the strawberry sorbet first.

  While I skipped my way about each treat, we casually spoke about his work and a little about mine. I didn’t really oblige much about the subject of my family since there wasn’t much to be said. Besides, the last thing I needed was for him to look into my father’s colorfully stellar past and present. Lord knew what he would find there.

  Just as I was scooping a spoonful of crème brûlée, I decided to bring up the subject that I had meant to discuss with him tonight.

  “I was thinking about living somewhere rural, anywhere really—Canada or even here in the States—but I would need your help to get me a new identity,” I voiced out the best idea I had been weighing out for quite some time. “I have enough saved up to tide me over until I can properly get a job to support the twins.” It would be difficult to do while I tried to look for childcare. The future appeared strenuous, but I was more than willing to tackle any obstacles that lay ahead for my children.

  Julien appeared pensive before expressing his opinion. “That could be probable, but with a harsh road ahead of you.”

  It was already a given the moment I had decided to go through with the pregnancy.

  “There’s no easy way out for me here, Julien. We both know that. I might appear fragile, but I’m also determined and strong. I don’t give up easily, even more so now. I simply can’t afford it.”

  “I never doubted any of that, Isobel,” he said. “You will have my full support in whatever path you choose to take,” he uttered before clearing his throat and adding, “But I have an idea that might be more feasible and less arduous of a journey.”

  My breath caught as I waited for him to enlighten me with his idea, but I was disappointed when he didn’t continue on.

  “And what is that solution exactly?” I had weighed everything, and nothing came that would be more reasonably sound than what I had just suggested.

  Julien stared right into my eyes. “We get married.”

  WHAT? My heart stopped beating.

  Did he just—he fucking did.

  Fick. Fack. Fuck.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Have you gone mad?” My eyes were as wide as saucers as I hissed at him across the table, conscious that other patrons could hear our bizarre conversation. There was no other way to put it, though. For him to even dare suggest such a mad idea was … it was … well, fuck.

  Hugo would be livid. Hell, he would most likely kill us both. I wouldn’t doubt it.

  While I seemed beyond perplexed from what he had just stated, Julien was the total opposite. In fact, he appeared as cool as a cucumber, which made me a tad suspicious.

  “How long have you considered this lunacy?”

  He shrugged. “Since somewhere in our flight across the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Well. Hell.

  “And you just decided to enlighten me right now?” I was having difficulty controlling my temper-filled reaction. It was absurd. How could he even fathom such an idea? I was carrying his best friend’s twins for fuck’s sake!

  “Yes, because of this very same reason,” he readily supplied with his expressionless face, while I, on the other hand, was rendered beyond dumbstruck. “The idea is mad—I admit as much—but you also can’t deny the fact that it’s the one that makes perfect sense. By doing so, you and the twins will be safe from harm. No one will ever know that I didn’t father them. At the end of the day, what matters most is safety. Not only will you acquire that by marrying me, but you can sleep soundly at night, knowing you and your children have security. You admitted that you’re willing to sacrifice anything at all costs. This is the best solution; you can’t deny that.”

  The best solution. Security. You and the twins will be safe from harm. His words rang in my ears as I stared at him, overwhelmed, befuddled.

  “I seriously don’t know what to say. This is …” I trailed off, having difficulty finding the right words. “He’s going to kill us if we go this route. He’s going to kill us.”

  Hugo’s darkly handsome face flashed before me, sending me into a spiral of guilt and shame. His best friend was trying to convince me that marrying him would be beyond beneficial for us all, all except him.

  “You’re putting everything on the line. How is this marriage going to benefit you? This is about your life, too. By doing so, you can definitely kiss your friendship good-bye with him. It could jeopardize so many things—from acquaintances to potential businesses … the list goes on and on.”

  “I’ve thought about that—what man wouldn’t—but I can only focus on one matter and how to solve that without risking you or the twins. I can’t be selfish, thinking about how this marriage would benefit me. It’s my love for Hugo that’s making me do this. If the situation were reversed, he would do the same for me. I don’t doubt that for a moment. That aside, for us to preserve and contain your condition, I advise we should wait before disclosing the truth. It could be years, decades even, until we can tell him if you so wish it. However you decide to cross that particular bridge is purely up to you.”

  “I …” Shaking my head in disbelief, I licked my lips, still reeling from it all. At the same time, I could see the future he painted for me. Whichever decision I chose to pursue, I was already betraying Hugo. “I need time to think this through if that’s fine by you.”

  He smirked, looking confident as ever. “I never expected your answer instantly, Isobel. In that sense, I suppose I know you enough to know that you’ll be losing sleep trying to figure out what to do. But I’m quite confident you will choose the best one, the only one that will successfully resolve all your problems.”

  He was blatantly pointing out that the outcome was inevitable, yet he was giving me the courtesy of breathing room to get accustomed to the idea.

  “How noble of you, Julien. So I guess you won’t need my answer then, since you already stated that you know me well enough to know which one I’ll eventually choose.” As much as I wanted to keep on being incensed at the idea, I knew this was the perfect solution, as he had so graciously put it.

  “Very well. Thank you for not fighting me on this. We’ll resume discussing the details at the end of our trip to Miami.” He continued on with his speech about making it seem as if he and I had begun to date after Hugo went on his merry way. He insisted that we make it look as if we were having an affair, and the moment I begi
n showing, we would begin making arrangements for the wedding and so forth.

  And just like that, my life spun into something I couldn’t control any longer. I could have stood my ground, but that was a risk I wasn’t willing to bet upon, not at the cost of my children. The game had changed, and as much as I wasn’t willing to admit it, my fate was in Julien’s hands. All it took was making one decision, and it resulted in something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend—a lifelong path that was filled with smoke and mirrors with the truth buried deep within, out of reach, out of sight.

  It was frightening to think how fast things had progressed. In a matter of weeks, so much had happened in my life. At this rate, God knew what was in store for me in a month’s time, in six months, in a year … Everything was becoming so unpredictable. The tides were changing, and I had to go along with it, or the consequences were too high to comprehend.

  +++

  I spent the following day walking in Central Park—well, it was less walking and more sitting and watching people going about their business. It was relaxing to be surrounded by the sounds of a busy city while enjoying the beautiful nature around me.

  Both security persons, Paul and John, were following me like shadows of course. There was no resemblance at all, but I liked to call them The Beatles. I hadn’t outright told them this, but in my head, I always referenced them as such, which never failed to make me smile. Maybe it was because they were so terse and needed a laugh that I had come up with such absurdity. They were a decent lot, and I appreciated their tolerance of my oddness.

  As the days went by, Julien’s idea gradually sunk in. We would pretend that we were in a relationship before we would get to the next phase—marriage. If that weren’t daunting enough, I hadn’t a clue what the inner workings of this marriage would be like.

  Would we share a bed? And if so, was I going to engage in sexual relations with him, or did he have another way to sort that predicament out by having a mistress on the side? I couldn’t care less about the latter part since this wasn’t a marriage made out of love but out of convenience. At the same time, I would very much appreciate it if I was told beforehand whether he planned to acquire one. It would make everything easier if we were forthright about such trivial matters. If Julien didn’t plan to broach the subject, then I wouldn’t mind bringing this to his attention when the appropriate time came.

  That aside, my morning sickness would come and go. It was still a dreadful thing to deal with, but as the doctor had promised, it would eventually subside as the pregnancy developed.

  Miami came soon enough, and much to my delight, the sunny city was the polar opposite of New York. In retrospect, as much as I adored people bustling about in their tailored suits and their designer ensembles, I appreciated the change of pace from the hectic ambiance of New York to this lax, leisurely environment. Then again, I was amazed at how much tanned skin, enlarged breasts, and firm bottoms were on display, making me feel as though my slender form and subtle curves were not good enough.

  For a Greek woman, it was one of my insecurities. Growing up in that culture where most women were born with such abundance naturally, I had been taunted and ridiculed by my cousins and relatives that I might not be woman enough to bear children when I came of age, because I didn’t have the hips to secure one, or the fact that men wouldn’t find my boyish body attractive. At the age of seventeen, I had still been developing, but that idea was lost on them, it seemed. Instead of lashing out, I learned the skill of staying mum. Of course, I steeled myself against scornful comments, but as time went on, it chipped away at my self-esteem.

  My insecurities were generously relieved when Damen came into my life. He shifted my views by showing me I was my own woman, and being unique was something to be proud of instead of something I should hide from the hateful world that would love nothing more than to see how much their words affected one’s mind and body. I realized that, if I gave them the power to influence me, then those hateful people would win, so from then on, I ignored whoever had nothing nice to say about my body. However, when Julien invited me to explore the beach scene and take on some sun, I allowed all those insecurities to creep back up on me.

  Instead of wearing swimwear underneath my flowy, knee-length sundress, I opted out of it in fear that I might stand out amidst a sea of enlarged everything.

  “I would’ve imagined you’d be delighted to go for a quick swim,” Julien commented as he frowned at my dress while we walked side by side, emerging onto the hotel’s veranda that overlooked the sprawling pool adorned with black and white striped loungers and cabanas, manifesting the ultimate impression of a stamping ground catering only to the rich and famous. A few minutes’ walk past the pool area was the beach and the lush garden to the opposing side.

  Slightly cocking my head to look at Julien’s striking facial features, I realized he was one handsome man if I didn’t compare him to Hugo. It was still surreal strolling about with him as if we hadn’t had a care in the world, yet each time I gazed at him, my mind instantly reverted to the idea that I would soon wed this man. Then images of Hugo Xavier would attack my guilty conscience.

  Shaking my head as if to rid of my odd sense of thinking, I reverted back to reality, recalling his question before my mind had wandered off to Hugo.

  “Maybe some other time. Feeling bloated and pregnant whilst donning a two-piece doesn’t seem to go hand in hand in my mind at the moment, not when I’m surrounded by embodiments of perfection.”

  We were a few steps onto the sandy beach when Julien paused, giving me a quizzical look. “You ought to dispose of that idea from your mind. You’re a beautiful woman with a lovely figure that most women wished they had. And I would bet half of my fortune that men would go for you, pregnant or otherwise.”

  Bloody Hell. How does one respond to that? Would a simply thank you suffice? For some odd reason, it felt as though thanking him would come off as if I would be inviting something that I wasn’t ready for. I was dumbfounded as to how I should properly answer.

  As for now, I was content in where our personal relationship stood, comfortably meeting in the middle and neither shifting on either side. Should that stance change, it wouldn’t be from my choosing.

  With that in mind, I played his comment off with a simple shrug and a smile. “There’s nothing like being psycho-analyzed regarding my weaknesses before lunchtime. Now that we have that out in of the way, do you mind sharing yours?”

  He scoffed as we resumed our stroll towards the shore that had nearby loungers and a tent that housed our meal. “I don’t recall having any, really.”

  “That’s pure rubbish. Every person has one.”

  Did such things exist? Could it be that he was suffering from an overabundance in confidence or a hedonistic mentality?

  I tried to justify my belief. “All businessmen who dream of dominating the world have weaknesses they would want to improve on. It’s human nature. Mother Teresa even had one, and in my opinion, she’s the closest thing to being the quintessential human being.”

  “And what was that exactly?”

  “I suppose, when you’re in her position, dedicating your life to catering to the needs of others instead of your own and being surrounded by overwhelming poverty, no matter how much she had practiced her good faith, there came a time when this principle was tested. Like that instance where one of the infamous gangsters from the ‘Keating Five’ was brought to justice after syphoning money from a list of major financial companies and wrote to her, specifically asking that she write a personable character reference that would make him seem like a favorable, decent human being. In return, she would be rewarded with over a million dollars by doing a simple yet not character deflection. Mother Teresa’s decision to deliver what was requested of her in change of that hefty sum could be deemed as controversial, yet I couldn’t fault her for making such a decision because, with that amount of money, she could make a difference to thousands upon thousands of people in India. Sometimes,
one must facilitate something bad to achieve good.” I paused as my eyes landed on the person who was lying on one of the loungers. I had this odd inkling that I had met this man somewhere.

  Julien didn’t seem to notice my attention had gone amiss since he was blathering on the subject that I had already abandoned while my mind busied to pinpoint where, when, and why this particular person gave off the impression of familiarity. Maybe I was being unreasonable. I mean, I was in America, and ever since we had landed here two weeks ago through New York, I hadn’t really met anyone in particular who stood out to me like this man.

  Mentally shrugging this notion off, I was just about to look away when the man in question lifted his gaze away from his mobile, connecting with mine. A sudden chill. A premonition. A harrowing feeling deeply seated itself in my psyche that something was upon me. Cold as ice, he looked straight into me, delving into my soul, holding me captive.

  “Isobel?” Julien touched my arm before twisting my face so I would face him. “Isobel…”

  Blinking, my mind was still racing and beyond distracted when I frowned, looking up at him. “Huh? Did you say something?”

  “I suggested that we eat lunch first if that’s fine by you,” he said, still studying me.

  “Lunch?” I reiterated before coming to my senses. “Oh, lunch. Oh, yeah, of course.” With that settled, we resumed walking the few feet that remained to the tent that was erected solely for us. Before I stepped into the canvas shelter, however, I paused, redirecting my gaze to where the man was located. Much to my surprise, he was no longer present, as if he hadn’t been there at all.

  Had I imagined it? I began to doubt my lucidity as I worked through my meal. As delicious as it was, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was all in my mind, I couldn’t disregard the sinking feeling in my gut, a sickening intuition that something was awry. The man had been ten feet away, and I couldn’t have confused him for someone else. There was no way I could have mistaken those eyes that made my skin crawl and my insides shrivel. It was him.