Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Not that I’ve brought anyone here since Cosette.
I hate that Cosette’s betrayed us and she’s down the hall from me. I hate that I’ve signed up for this, but I hate even more the thought of anyone else putting their hands on her. I’d have to kill them.
Why does this change her betrayal?
She said she had to tell me, because she was afraid if I hurt her, I’d hurt the baby.
But is there another reason she had to tell me?
Why didn’t she want to tell me?
I’ve got more questions than answers as I pace the room, but I’m exhausted.
I strip out of my clothes and when I’m heading to the bathroom to wash up, I pull out my phone and check my messages.
Three from Thayer and three from Fabien.
I purse my lips together and shake my head. If they found out already, then Dr. Martin isn’t trustworthy at all—
Fabien:
Are you alright?
Fabien:
Lyam, tell me you’re alright. I can’t get in touch with anyone at your home. Are you okay?
Why does he want to know if I’m alright?
Thayer:
None of us can reach you. Maman is safe. Are you alright?
Now I’m wide awake. Why do they want to know if I’m alright? I call Thayer and Fabien on a three-way call.
“What the hell happened?”
“God, it’s good to hear you,” Thayer says, obvious concern in his voice. “There was a shooting at the Louvre. My sources say it was an unidentified assailant who killed himself. Our security said Maman was nearby recently and is home safe now, and asleep. Our guards will brief her in the morning.”
God. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in France. I can’t imagine why this happened.
I scrub a hand across my brow. Fabien speaks up next. “The shooting was half a mile from where you are and it’s clear it’s unrelated to anything having to do with us. We know that. Still…”
“It can’t hurt to be safe. We’re fine, I’ll let you know if there are any changes.”
I didn’t hear it because her room is soundproof.
I pull up the app to check Cosette.
Still fast asleep.
Either I’m going to check the app every ten seconds all night long to make sure she’s safe, or I’m going to march my ass back to that room and watch over her myself.
I’m in boxers and a tee as I open the door to my room and head down to Cosette’s. Sometimes a shooting’s a diversion, sometimes it’s a warning.
I would know.
My security personnel have all gone to bed, but our security measures are all in place. Nothing’s been triggered. If anyone stepped foot on our property, I’d know in seconds.
I open the door and find Cosette’s still fast asleep. She doesn’t even move when I check in on her.
I check the windows.
Fine.
The bed’s barely big enough for me, never mind the two of us, but I don’t care right now. I climb into bed beside her and pull the covers up over both of us.
It feels right.
I don’t sleep all night like most people, but usually nap. My mind never allows me to rest long enough to sleep.
But now that I’m next to her… I remember.
I remember what it was like to hold her, to have her by my side like this. The soothing, whiffling sounds of her heavy breathing tell me she’s calm and at rest. Soon, my breathing begins to match hers.
I developed insomnia recently. Even lying in bed, my mind races and I’m wide awake.
I stifle a yawn.
It’s been a long day, though. I’m exhausted.
I’m only going to stay here to make sure she’s safe.
I close my eyes. It’s warm in here. God, Cosette’s a damn furnace. Do pregnant women run hot?
Pregnant.
I imagine a baby inside her.
My baby.
Why was there a shooting nearby? Does it have anything to do with us?
Is this my baby?
I yawn, my eyes still closed.
How can I punish her without harming the baby?
I don’t care who I’ve killed or what I’ve done, I don’t love the idea of keeping a pregnant woman prisoner, and if she’s pregnant with my baby…
What will I do with her?
SIX
Cosette
Where am I? I don’t recognize the cream-colored walls of my room at Le Luxe. I still when I feel the warm, obviously male body behind me.
Lyam. I’m at Lyam’s.
God, I sleep hard, being pregnant.
Why is he in this bed? He left me last night, and I was so heavily asleep I never heard him return. When did he come in? Why?
And more surprisingly—is he actually asleep? I’ve never had him in bed with me like this because Lyam doesn’t really sleep. Plagued with insomnia, he would lie in bed with me while I slept and occasionally catch a few hours. But right now, I can feel the slow, steady, rhythmic breathing that indicates he is indeed asleep.
I’m struck with the sudden, disconcerting realization that even if things were good between me and Lyam, pregnancy itself is not going to be all fun and games. My body is telling me loud and clear I have to use the bathroom before my bladder explodes. But I’m confident that if I move, I’m going to vomit.