“But what if Cash refuses to help you?”
She promised him me, in return for his assistance. And here I am. I can walk out of this room right now and her leverage is gone.
“He won’t help me.” She sucks her bottom lip and swallows. “It’s only a matter of time before he finds you here, and I realize now that he was never going to help me. He has a reputation to uphold too. I was relying on him having some compassion, and he does, but you’re his priority, and that’s exactly how it should be.”
My chest swells with love for Cash and Bash. I don’t know what to say, so I keep quiet.
Isabella comes back to the couch and sits down beside me. “I understand that what I did was abhorrent, and that you owe me nothing, but… well… will you help me? Please?”
“Me?”
Bizarrely, I’m not even thinking about what she did to me. Persuading Tom to slip antihistamines into my soda, sending a fake-fiancée to humiliate me, abducting me and leaving me trapped here with George while she presented her case to the Murrays. Instead, I can’t think of a single way in which I can be useful to her.
“I don’t know… What can I do to help?”
She releases a breath. “You’re still here, and that’s more than I deserve already.” Pause. “You know him better than I do.”
“Ha! I thought I did.” I’m recalling the conversation about his sexuality. “I don’t think either of us knows who he really is.”
“But two heads are better than one, right?”
She has no idea. I blush thinking about the last night I spent in the company of the twins.
I can’t believe I’m saying this but, “What do you want me to do?”
“Speak to him. He’ll listen to you, Remy. He still thinks of you fondly.”
I shake my head, and my jaw howls with pain in response. “I-I can’t.” I touch my swollen face gingerly.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, and I don’t expect you to be alone with him, but?—”
“I’m sorry.” I’m breathing erratically at the thought of being in close contact with him again. Even if I’m not alone. “What if he… Hitting me is one thing, but I’m pregnant. I can’t risk him hurting my babies.”
“I’m pregnant too, Remy.” She instinctively places a hand over her abdomen, smoothing her immaculate dress across the roundness I never noticed before.
“You’repregnant?” I whisper. “Is it… Is George the father?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Alessandro is the father. Now, do you understand my predicament? I can’t bring up my child in a marriage that’s a sham. I can’t pretend that George Quinn is their daddy. I can’t.”
Do I believe her?
After everything she did, do I trust her to tell me the truth? This could be another trick. George wore a mask to fool me into believing that Cash beat him up. Isabella Leone has already proved that she’s capable of doing terrible things.
As if she can read my mind, she takes my hand and places it over her belly. I feel a tiny flutter like bubbles floating to the surface.
“Is that…?”
“I’ve been trying to hide it from George and my parents. But that’s my baby kicking, Remy.”
I must be crazy.
I must’ve lost my mind when George hit me, or else I’m still hiding behind the bathroom panel, and this is all a smoke-induced dream.
But the baby in her tummy kicking my hand has filled me with wonder, and magic, and I would want her to help me if I were in her shoes.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say before I can stop myself.
23
