I am stuck on the fact that I am pretty sure the hot older man in a lab coat sitting too close to my bed is Mr. Cock. There is something wickedly alluring about his gray hair, chiseled jaw, and the hungry look in his eyes. More beautiful without the mask, Beckett Myers is known to be a very dangerous man. He is a doctor but belongs to a secretsociety of men who do very questionable things, like throw masquerade balls where they can fuck the staff.
“How, is what I want to know.” He leans into me and lowers his voice. “I expect honesty, Red.”
It is him.
Not a day has passed without me thinking of Mr. Cock or feeling him between my thighs, knowing that our daughter would never have a father because I chose to walk away from him that night.
“Mr. Cock?” I barely whisper.
“I think you already know the answer to that question, so I need you to answer mine. I understand that you’re still recovering from severe injuries, so we are just going to stick to the facts. Why do I have an infant daughter in the nursery upstairs when you told me you were on birth control?”
Yep, a complete asshole.
Fuck him for making birth control entirely my responsibility. “Sperm makes babies, Doc, and not all birth control does the job. I guess we can assume that invisible condoms do not actually work.”
“Did your birth control not work, or did you just not use any?” Still accusing… me.
Tears well in my eyes, and I feel completely out of my element, totally in pain, and miserable. I stay silent because I don't have the strength to approach his answer.
“So you didn’t want my money, but you wanted my genetics? Were you planning on blackmailing me? Did you and Mia have some grand plan? I’ve done nothing but accommodate her brattish, self-indulgent—”
“Shut up!” I start to cry. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t talk about her like that.” I am in so much pain, the room starts to spin.
And despite wanting to be strong and powerful—andI am woman hear me roar—I am overtaken by a flash of nausea. Grabbing for my water glass because it is the closest thing to me, I bring it to my mouth and barf all over my hand. Most of my projectile does not make it into the cup. I am sobbing as the nurse comes in with my fresh IV bag.
Beckett stands up quickly to get away from the splash. The nurse is much more empathetic as she hangs my bag and strokes my damp hair.
“Oh, sweetheart, you have to take it easy. Your body has been through a lot of trauma. Here, let me clean you up and get a fresh gown. I’m sorry, Dr. Myers. I know you’re doing your rounds… maybe you can visit another patient.”
“Ms. Cross is my only patient at this hospital. I’ll wait for you to clean her up.”
The nurse quickly removes my gown, and I am nervous for only a second since I am bare underneath, but I realize Beckett has seen it all already. Another wave of nausea hits me, and I dry heave into the barf bag she offers. The nurse quickly changes me into a crisp new hospital gown. I wipe my face with a damp cloth, all while Beckett stands there staring at me.
When she is done, she strokes my hair once more and pats my arm, saying, “Dr. Myers is the best in the business. He’ll make sure you’re right as rain in no time.”
Ugh, he may be the best in the business, but he is a total monster in all other ways.
As soon as she leaves, Beckett takes his seat again, and I close my eyes and speak in an even monotone.
“I had an audition for the New York City Ballet. I’d been mentally and physically preparing for my audition for months. Even though I worked the night before and had sex for the first time, I was ready. I wasn't thinking about the birth control I had run out of that morning or the fact that the pharmacy would be closed. I stayed at the audition until late, then was called back the next day, and the day after. I missed my chance to buy the morning-after pill. I could have asked Mia to get it for me, but accidental pregnancy is a really sensitive subject with her.” I open my eyes and look at him, accusing.
“It would be.” He glares back at me but is softening.
“It was the only thing she and I would probably fight about, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. She’s my best friend and my rock. Doesshe know I’m here? Did you tell her? She has to be worried sick.” I heave again and almost throw up.
He puts his hand on my arm, and I am surprised by the gesture; it is nicer than I expected.
“I told her, but she’s not allowed to come just yet. You’re still in the ICU. She is sick with worry, but luckily I ran a DNA test and found out who you were. At least she knows that you’re alive. You were saying…”
“When you talk to her again, tell her I love her.” I give him a sad look, knowing how fucked my life is. “By the time I could buy the morning-after pill, it was too late to take it. I planned to go into Planned Parenthood and have an abortion.” Tears roll down my face. “But I couldn’t do it… I couldn’t go through with it.”
I start truly sobbing, hurting so deeply, physically and emotionally. There he is, my mysterious lover, whom I ran from. He is Mia’s brother? How is any of this possible? My sadness is bone-deep, and all I want to do is run away from Beckett Myers again. I know what he is like, and I don’t want any part of it.
“I can do this on my own. I’m okay. We’re okay. You can leave.” Suddenly, I am hyperventilating, and the damn beeping starts again.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He stands up and fixes my machine, then goes to the sink, runs water over a paper towel, and lays it across my forehead, making sure to avoid the bandage at my hairline. “You need to calm down,” he says, placing an oxygen mask over my face and turning on a fine stream of pure oxygen that immediately calms me. “Just breathe, Scarlett.”
I do my best, trying to get myself under control. It takes a minute to slow my breathing and calm my body down. The pain has started to overwhelm me, as has my fatigue, but suddenly I am worried about something beyond myself. My little girl.
