I clench my teeth, wanting to tear my eyes away but also unwilling to give up anything without a fight.
Far too late, I’ve discovered my reserves. I tilt my chin higher, even though it makes him tug harder on my hair. “A kid put gum in it. This seemed the simplest solution.”
“You could have come to me. I would’ve paid someone to get it out.”
He relaxes his grip and I smooth the part he was holding. He takes another long look at me, eyes travelling from head to toe a few times, then he dismisses me, gaze fixing on Stefan.
“Since you’re here, there’s a problem in the bathroom I need you to solve. No one else was involved.”
Whatever code he’s imparting is understood without further questions. The large man turns in the right direction, letting me know he’s been here before. I stay in place, waging a battle with my legs, which want to shake again.
This would have been the perfect time to pull a gun. Stefan occupied in another room. Wilbur close but not touching.
I shut my eyes and see the scenario play out. The fear in his eyes, the curl of his lip as the rage passes through, then becomes absorbed in trying to get him out of the predicament.
A strange joy takes me in its grip. Isn’t that the ultimate bully move? To hold a gun on someone, to let them think you’re going to kill them.
To actually do it.
My eyes snap open again, the dream gone in an instant. As Stefan pointed out, even if he had let me keep the gun, it wasn’t loaded right. It wouldn’t have fired.
“Why did he make me take a pregnancy test?”
Wilbur’s gaze moves away from the bathroom door and back to me. “Hm?”
“I’m on the pill. Why would a man I’ve never met before give me a pregnancy test? Explain that to me.” I can’t ask the more important question. Such as, what the fuck am I meant to do with a baby when I can’t even take care of myself?
“I told him we’ve been trying for a baby.”
My lungs are becoming congested. The air feels heavier, harder to process, harder to breathe. “Why would you think I was pregnant when you know I’m taking contraception?”
“Oh, Emily. I swapped out your pills the moment you came back to me.” He slips an arm around my waist and pulls me closer like we’re out on a date and he’s pulling me in for a kiss. Except the light glints in his eyes, sharp as a razor. The hand slung around me grips my flesh between its fingers in a large pinch.
I frown, my nose wrinkling as I try to work out if that can be true. I always keep them in my jacket, so no matter where I end up at night, they’ll be there, ready to take in the morning. Far as I know, I’ve never skipped one.
They’re the only layer between me and a nightmare scenario. The one slither of protection I’m in control of.
“The ones you have now are sugar pills with something in there to make them taste bitter.” His free hand flutters near my face again, near my neck, not touching, just hovering. Enough to make my skin crawl with nerves.
“I know you’ll be a young mother, but I want kids while I can still enjoy them. I promised myself when you stayed away so long last time that I wouldn’t wait any longer. Besides”—he nudges me with his hip—“it’s not like you’ll be raising our children alone. I can get you the best nanny money can buy.”
My stomach chooses that moment to send a burp half full of bile catapulting up my throat, and I close my eyes, needing to concentrate to swallow the stinging liquid back down. I wince against the taste and the burn, holding the back of my wrist to my mouth as I struggle against the resulting rush of nausea.
“Don’t cry,” he says, cupping my head and bringing me flush against his chest. “You’ll be fine. It’ll just take a few days to get used to the idea, then you’ll be right as rain.”
“Who’s the woman?”
I jump at Stefan’s low growl, so close to me despite not hearing his approach. The man moves like a cat.
Wilbur’s grip on my head tightens, becomes a steel clamp holding me in place. “Just an annoying visitor who arrived without an invitation.”
“Name?”
“Cheryl.”
My stomach drops out the bottom of my feet and my head swims in a cold current, bobbing just beyond comprehension. My mother’s name is Cheryl. It must be a coincidence.
“Cheryl Corrigan.”
