by Tessa Teevan
She must see the question in my eyes, because she squeezes my arm and leans in close. “I couldn’t have taken you with me. If you were with me on the island, I’d have had to watch over my shoulder every second of every day. He’d have stopped at nothing to find you. He already had one of my sons in his grasp whom I couldn’t save. I couldn’t allow him to have you, too. So I decided that it was better for him to have thought I lost the baby. That way, he’d never think to look for you. But I did, Raphael. I chose the Matthews for a reason, knowing they’d bring you up to be a kind, compassionate man, and they promised to keep my apprised of your upbringing. There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think of you. A single day I didn’t love you.”
A lone tear drops onto her cheek and I have the urge to wipe it away for her. But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to comfort a strange woman who just told me that not only am I her son, but my enemy, the man who wants Brie for himself, is my brother.
How the fuck do I reconcile that?
And then it hits me, rocking me to my core.
I tell myself that it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Fuck, I share blood with the man who killed her father. With the man who’s toyed with her for two years only to kidnap and nearly kill her. And now, her baby—our baby—shares that same blood, too?
How in the fuck am I going to tell Brie?
CHICAGO.
I love this city. I forgot just how much since I’ve been away. The sights. The sounds. The smells. Just walking down Michigan Avenue is like coming home, and if I weren’t in such turmoil over my spat with Rafe, I’d be in heaven.
How could he think I’d return to Adrian?
Yet I was with him, so is it really that out of bounds that Rafe’s rampant, paranoid imagination would go there?
How did I ever get myself into this mess? And more importantly, how am I going to get out of it?
For starters, Brie, get out of your damn head and forget it all for a while.
That’s precisely what I intend to do.
I start heading towards the Art Institute of Chicago, wanting the comfort of feeling close to my mom. I’m halfway there when I stop myself. It’s one of the first places Rafe will look.
When I plop onto a nearby bench, my mind wanders. Just a few short months ago, I was blissfully unaware that my boyfriend, the man I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, was the son of the man who killed my parents. Who would’ve killed me if he’d had the chance.
I think about Adrian and the way we met and it’s hard for me to believe that it was all contrived. It was all part of some higher plan. He hadn’t pursued me. I mean, sure, it’s not like I made it hard on the guy, but in the beginning, and until just a few months ago, he was gentle with me. Kind. Domineering in bed, which I thoroughly enjoyed, but out of it, he was my rock.
Or so I thought.
It’s all so confusing now.
And what about Rafe? Everything he’s done has been to keep me safe. So he says. How is it that I believe him when he tells me that? That I believe he lied to me to protect me.
Isn’t that what Adrian claimed?
I blink away the tears clouding my sight. Rafe lied to me about his job, not his feelings. I know, deep down in my soul, he loves me. He loves our baby. With Adrian, he may think he loved me, or that he still does, but it was all a game, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
So I stand, take a deep breath, and rise from the bench. I want to go back to Rafe—I do. I just… I can’t.
I know it’s stupid to have run out on him. But after his bitter accusation, I couldn’t stay cooped up in that hotel room any longer. This is my life we’re talking about. My baby’s life. I’m not going to just sit around and wait for everything to come to a head. I’m tired, so damn tired, of the lack of answers. I thought, if I just got some fresh air and space from Rafe so I could regroup, I’d be fine.
It’s not enough. I know what I have to do.
Stepping off the edge of the curb, I hail a cab—more quickly than I recall being able to do when I came to the city with my parents. When the driver asks where to, I pull out the card Adrian gave me. I trace the words for a moment with my fingers, wondering if I’m doing the right thing, but eventually, I answer.
“Our Lady of Sorrows Basilica, please.”
My throat’s tight as we make the drive towards the housing place of the national shrine of Saint Peregrine, the patron saint of cancer. I wonder why Adrian chose this location. Did he know about my father’s love affair with the architecture? We rarely made trips to the city without him paying homage to the beautiful Italian Renaissance–styled structure. Mom and I didn’t mind. In fact, we found the beautiful, ornate sanctuary to be like its own museum, with artwork for us to study all over.
Fond memories rush through me. While I’ll always feel the loss of them, perhaps time and distance have made it easier to relive some of my happiest memories with my parents.
The fact that he chose this place only further cements that Adrian really did know everything about me before we met that day in Philadelphia. The realization casts shivers through me. I rub my hands together, trying to push the chill away, but it’s no use. I have the urge to ask the driver to turn around. But I stop myself, knowing I need answers only Adrian can give me. Mustering up all my courage, I stare out the window, watching the city pass us by as we get closer to our destination.
After the cabbie drops me off, I take a few steps back, drinking it all in, the sight before me. Steeling my nerves, I cross the street and jog up the steps to the church. My heart falters when I see a sign indicating it’s closed for the day. Undeterred, I try for the door anyway. Surprisingly, it pushes open.
With hesitation, I walk inside, the door slamming shut behind me. I jump then glance around, praying I didn’t disturb any kneeling parishioners. The sanctuary is empty, so I stroll up to the front of the church and take a seat in the front pew. Eerie silence fills the cavernous room, and I wait, forcing my restless leg to stay still.
I feel his presence before he sits behind me. Warm breath tickles my ear as he whispers to me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, transported back to the first time his breath torched my skin.
“Gabriella. My sweet, sweet Gabriella. You came.”
Opening my eyes, I turn and see Adrian’s face lit up in a bright smile. It’s the same smile that made me fall in love with him in the first place.
“And a day early at that. Eager to see me, sweetheart?”
His teasing sends a strange sensation over my heart. This playful side of him has been hidden away from me for so long; it hurts to see it unmasked when it’s too late for us. The weight of what I had and lost weighs painfully heavily on my chest, and at the same time, it’s more foreign than ever. As if I’ve forgotten this side of him and it no longer affects me the way it used to, even though part of me feels like it should. I’m no longer enticed by it. Instead, I’m sad for everything we’ve lost. Everything we could’ve been. Everything we’ll never be again.
And the words rush out before I can stop them.
“You need to know, Adrian, I’m not here to fix things with you. You and me? We’re just… We’re not meant to be. I’ve learned I don’t want to be a kept woman, and the sooner you understand that, the better,” I tell him, deciding to just rip the bandage off and get this over with.
He gives me a warm smile, almost as if he finds me a foolish child who will eventually come around to his ways. “But you were so brilliant at it. The role suits you. When you were mine—”
I cut him off. “I am no longer yours. Nor will I ever be again. I’m sorry if that hurts you, Adrian. It’s the truth you have to accept.”
Adrian sits back against the pew, his hand rubbing at his chin before settling his green eyes on mine. “For the moment, perhaps not. But make no mistake, Gabriella, I will always fight for what is mine.”
I shake my head, scoffing at his words. “No. No! It’s too late for us. Can’t you
see that? Too much has happened. There’s too much between us we’d never be able to repair.”
Undeterred, he lays a tan, muscular arm across the back of the pew as if he has all the time in the world for this conversation. Hell, he almost looks like this is fun for him. Until I see the tension in his jaw as his eyes penetrate my gaze.
“Gabriella, darling. Please. You underestimate my determination. My devotion. My love. For you and only ever you.”
I close my eyes at the uninvited thrill the words send tingling up my spine. This is what I wanted to hear for so long. I thought I was done, but being here with Adrian now, it’s like he’s reeling me back in, as if he’d never hurt me. As if he hadn’t treated me like I was nothing. Just his whore to be used when he wanted. And discarded when he didn’t.
He’s the snake in the garden, offering the forbidden apple with enticing words of love and longing, and I’m the desperate woman far too eager to take a bite. Damn the consequences.
I sigh, unsure of how to respond, of how I even want to respond, but then he suddenly changes tactics. He leans forward, his hand coming up to the bandage on my head. He brushes my hair back and my skin sizzles at the contact.
“I’m glad to see you came to your senses and saw a doctor,” he says.
My eyebrows furrow. “I couldn’t really send the woman away without her thinking I was a crazy pregnant woman, could I?”
His steady hand cups my jaw, and it takes everything within me not to turn into his touch. This is him. This is what he does. Lulls you into a false sense of security, of love, then rips it out from under you when you least expect it.
“What are you talking about, Gabriella?”
“The doctor,” I whisper, suddenly remembering what she said. “I thought you’d sent her, but…”
Cool air hits my cheek as he pulls his hand away. “I didn’t…” he says, trailing off, confusion etched on his features.
The confirmation chills my blood, the implication far too terrifying to contemplate. My hand comes up and circles around a steely wrist, the heat of his taut skin emanating against my own.
“Adrian. He knows. Somehow, he knows. He saw.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Who? Matthews?”
Fear courses through me, panic rushing in. “No, your father! Oh my God.”
It’s so much worse than I thought.
“Excuse me?” He cocks his head to the side, his brow forming a deeper crease. “My father? What does he have to do with you seeing a doctor?”
My eyes frantically search his as my heart beats erratically. I will myself to calm down, knowing that my excitement, increased blood pressure and stress could hurt the baby. I take a moment to close my eyes and do breathing exercises until my heart calms. When I open my eyes, Adrian’s watching me intently.
“Gabriella, speak with me, please. I do not understand what you mean. What about my father?”
“Adrian, listen to me. Shortly after I returned to my hotel room, my childhood doctor arrived. I hadn’t called her. She said Mr. Morningstar requested she make a house call. I assumed she meant you until…” I trail off, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Until what?”
My eyes race to meet his. “Until she said he was concerned for the well-being of his grandchild. He thinks the baby is yours.”
Adrian promptly stands and grabs my hand. With a swiftness that is hard to keep up with, he hurries to a non-descript side door, and we slip out into the dusky evening. He steers me towards a car, releasing my hand as he rounds it and open the driver’s-side door.
I hesitate on the passenger’s side of his car. It’s only thing meeting him in a public place. But after the last time we were in a car together, I’m not sure I’m making the wisest decision by blindly following him. And by Adrian’s expression, he obviously realizes I’m waging an internal battle.
He swallows hard, his eyes boring into mine. Green swirls blaze darker than I’ve ever seen before.
“Gabriella, do you trust me?” he asks, his voice thick and husky.
I blink, shocked he could even ask me such a question. “No, Adrian,” I answer quietly. “I don’t.”
His eyes close for the briefest of moments. When they reopen, he appears defeated. “I understand.” He lets out a breath, runs a hand through hair that is longer than I’ve ever seen on him, and looks back at me. “I deserve that. But if you’re done with me, if this is it for us, you have to know the truth. I need to tell you everything.”
Goose bumps prick my skin at his words, and tears clog my throat. This is really it. We’re over, and after this, I may never see him again.
He must sense my hesitation, because he continues quickly, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Please, Gabriella,” he breathes on a plea. “Will you come with me? Let me explain all of this before you walk out of my life forever? If you’re not to be mine, please grant me this last request.”
I know I shouldn’t. But maybe part of me is that too-stupid-to-live girl, because even though cacophonous warning bells resound in my mind, I slide into the passenger’s side and close my door without saying a word.
When Adrian joins me, he takes my hand and squeezes it. For a brief moment, he brings our joined hands to his lips, but just before he kisses my skin, he stops himself, instead placing them on his thigh.
I should pull away. I don’t.
“You won’t regret this, Gabriella. I promise.”
I want to believe him. I really do, but my past with Adrian is full of regret, and I hope I haven’t just made the most catastrophic decision of my life.
My thumbs impatiently tap the wheel as I navigate through Chicago traffic. Each moment I’m closer to Brie is still another moment she’s with him.
Maybe I’m being careless. Reckless. Going into this situation blind. But the truth is: I don’t fucking care. I failed to keep a promise I made to Brie’s father. It’s because of me that she’s in this mess, when I told Andrew Latham I’d protect his daughter until my dying day. Little did I know her being with me posed a greater danger to her than before. If I hadn’t touched her. If I’d just gotten her away from Adrian, she wouldn’t be pregnant. She wouldn’t be a pawn in Theo’s game. She’d be safe. But how the hell can I regret loving her? Or our child?
I might have helped throw her into the lion’s den, but I will keep my vow. I will keep her safe. This is my chance to right that wrong. Fierce determination to succeed swells inside me, over every fiber of my being.
I will protect her this time. At all costs. Failure, when it comes to her, is not an option. It’s not even on the fucking table.
I run a hand over my jaw, reflecting on how this all went so damn wrong.
Fuck. This was just supposed to be another job. The final task to bring down Theo Morningstar once and for all. I wasn’t supposed to find Brie. Or fall in love with her. Fuck, the last thing I should’ve ever done is get her pregnant.
Yet, deep down, part of me wonders if this hasn’t all worked out in some sort of fucked-up cosmic plan. Because from the moment I laid eyes on my woman—vulnerable, tears spilling down her pale cheeks, brown eyes wide, frightened, begging for protection—I’ve been a goner for her. The sight of her sitting on that counter, used, discarded, I knew.
I knew she’d be mine and I’d stop at nothing to make it so.
Planting a baby in her was one hell of a way to do that.
And, now, it’s not just Brie I have to protect. It’s our son. Or daughter. So every second we’re apart is agony.
As I pull up to the Basilica and hop out of the car, anxious to get to her, a sleek, black Mercedes careens past me in the opposite direction. The windows sport an illegal tint, so dark that I can’t see through them, but a feeling of foreboding washes over me and I know, just know, that has to be him. But when I check the screen on my phone, the dot hasn’t moved.
Relief washes over me. Foreboding or not, Brie’s still inside the church. I just pray to God she’s safe and sound—and tha
t I have the patience not to wring her neck the moment I’m assured of the first two.
Not that she’ll be happy with me when I find her. I know she’ll be absolutely livid for this, but I had the tracker enabled on her new phone when we picked it up after leaving the hospital. After what happened with Adrian before, I refuse to risk ever not knowing where she is again. Not while she’s carrying my baby. Not while she’s mine. Since the first won’t change anytime soon and the latter never will, she’ll just have to get used to it.
My efforts are futile, because for all the good it does me, my gorgeous, infuriating, intuitive Brie knows me all too fucking well. My boots barely hit the pavement as I jog up the steps to the church and pull the double doors open, the sound of metal springs echoing in the entryway. My footsteps echo across the wooden floor leading me into the sanctuary, and then I stop in my tracks.
Brie’s not here.
Hundreds of candles emit a soft glow that reflects off the colored stained-glass windowpanes, making the eerie silence feel all that more foreboding. I dart my gaze around only to see that the room is entirely empty. Not a soul in sight, not a sound to be heard. With wooden steps, I walk towards the front row, already knowing what I’m going to find. Already cursing her out in my mind for being so damn stubborn, so damn foolish.
And when I find her cell phone on a pew, I nearly lose my mind. I snatch it up and curl a fist around it, barely suppressing the urge to hurl it across the sanctuary.
What the fuck is wrong with her? Did his kidnapping her once before not show her his lunacy?
Fear sets in, so fierce that I nearly stumble back in anguish.
When he took her before, listening to her drown—or so I thought—her life flashed before my eyes. Our life together flashed before my eyes. Unfathomable, abject terror twisted inside me like supernatural vines squeezing against my heart, the very breath escaping me as I imagined it was escaping from Brie.
