Stolen Fate (8 page)

I will survive him.

My words stop him. He stills in his movements, in his claiming of my body. He doesn’t get off me, but instead looks down into my face with a mix of confusion, lust and pity. I buck beneath him. I don’t need anyone’s pity. It’s the one thing which fueled my desire to do what I thought needed to be done in life. I can take care of myself; have been doing it my whole life. And I’m not about to stop now because I’m strangely attracted to my latest target. Yes, he turned the tables on me, pulling some unexpected moves, but nonetheless, I won’t be anyone’s plaything any more. Emotionally or physically. I call the shots. I decide my fate. No one else.

When my body stops moving beneath him, when I stop fighting for him to release me, he takes that as his opening. He leans down so his chest is touching my own. He looks me in the eye one more time before laying his lips on top of mine. For as intoxicated as he is, his kiss is gentle. It’s sweet. The liquor on his breath is surrounding me, but I’m not as turned off by it as I should be.

While I’m in the middle of a silent war with myself, Drayden’s hands glide up my body, coming to rest on the sides of my breasts again, teasing me with his feather-like touches. When he presses harder into my flesh, he gets the reaction he’s hoping for. I gasp and in doing so allow him entrance to my mouth. His tongue explores me, greedy to taste me, to feel my warmth. I reciprocate his need and growing desire. Ours is a kiss meant for a couple who knows each other, who are involved in an intimate relationship. Not two people who are thrown together because of greed and deceptiveness.

“Why couldn’t you’ve been real, baby? Why did you have to do this to me? Make me feel something after so long only to have it ripped away in a heartbeat?” He’s babbling, confusing me with every word. At first, I think he’s talking directly to me, but there are parts I think are meant for someone else. “Did I pass your little test?” he asks. But in the very next second, he switches his pleas, begging for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it, any of it. Please, give me a chance to take it back. Please.”

“What are you talking about, Drayden?” I yank his hair, pulling his lips away from me so I can look into his eyes and see if he’s even here with me. He isn’t. His look is glazed over and he continues to mumble incoherently.

“Please, forgive me.” He leans down and kisses me again, but this time it’s a bit more aggressive. When I try to push him off me, he jerks my hands up and pins them above my head, continuing his assault on my bruised lips.

“Drayden!” I scream as loud as I can. I have to get his attention back on me, back in the present. If he’s drifting off someplace in the past, then I won’t be able to reach him or reason with him.

He looks down at me, shaking his head as if he’s thrown back into a very confusing situation. Staring down at me, watching me struggle underneath him is enough to get him to stop whatever he’s planning. He must be even more drunk than either one of us realizes. He releases his hold on me and gets off the bed, leaving me both relieved and frustrated.

I’m not sure what I feel for the man who is holding me against my will. Yes, I’m crazily attracted to him, but I can’t trust him. But it’s nothing new; I can’t trust anyone but myself, and even that’s a little sketchy.

He throws on his pants as quickly as he can, turns toward me to give me one last look and hurries out the door, locking it behind him as usual.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning, I’m stunned to see Drayden milling about inside my bathroom, almost as if he’s taking inventory of my essentials. As he makes his way back out to the bedroom, he stops dead when he sees I’m watching him.              

“What?” he snaps at me, pressing his forefingers along his temple. He’s quite the sight. While he’s dressed in a sharp, dark-grey suit, he looks like a man who didn’t get much sleep the night before. His eyes are red and swollen and he didn’t even bother to shave this morning, only adding to his haggard appearance.

It doesn’t take a genius to see he indeed has a wicked hangover.

I can’t help myself—ever the pushy bitch.

“Something wrong? Do you have a headache,
sweetheart
?”

He looks confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because of how much you tied one on last night. And while we’re on that subject, don’t ever come into my room drunk again.”

His movements are so quick he’s near me before I’m able to take my next breath. His face tells me everything in that moment. He has no idea what I’m talking about. He doesn’t remember anything which happened between us. And he probably doesn’t remember anything he said, either.

It seems like I have the upper hand this time.

“What are you talking about, Essie? I wasn’t in here last night. Why are you making up stories?” He’s becoming more and more agitated, the blinding headache no help at all, I’m sure.

“Uh, yes, you were. You mentioned something about an accident and not being able to have kids, then you stripped down naked and tried to fuck me.” I’m trying my hardest to contain the glee I feel because of his ignorance.

I get up and start to push past him, nature calling and all. But I don’t get very far. He grips me up, like he obviously likes to do, and halts my escape. “Who told you about the accident?” He shakes me. “Tell me right now. I swear to God, Essie, if you don’t stop messing with me…”

“
You
told me. You’re the one who sat in that chair over there and told me there was a lot of damage in the accident, and the doctors told you the chances of you having kids are one in a million.”

“You’re lying.” He shakes his head, as if it’s going to make everything I just said go away. “You’re a Goddamn liar.”

“Believe what you want, Drayden; I really don’t care. But if I know anything about you, I know you probably have security cameras all over this huge house of yours, this bedroom being no exception. So why don’t you go and check the footage. You’ll see you came in my room late at night and that I’m telling you the truth.”

He releases me, takes a moment to compose himself and makes his way back toward the door. Before he yanks on the handle, he leaves me with one more tidbit of information, something I’ve been waiting to hear for some time now. “There are three pregnancy tests in the bathroom. Take all of them. It’s been three weeks. If you
are
knocked up, something should show up by now. I’ll send someone back around to collect them.” He disappears, leaving me feeling like I’m nothing more than an annoyance. Someone who has to be tolerated and dealt with accordingly.

Someone who has no value.

It has all come to this moment. The moment of truth. My life is either going to change or remain the same.

I’m not quite sure which one I prefer at this point.

I have to be dreaming. Please, someone wake me up from this nightmare.

No. No. No.

All three tests are staring back at me, taunting me with my new reality. They’re laughing at me, mocking me.

Frightening me.

I’m pregnant.

Shit! There isn’t a damn thing I can do about it, either. If I was on the outside, I would find the money to take care of it. I’m realistic enough to know bringing a child into this fucked-up world is, by all rights, child abuse. I never want a child to grow up the way I did. To have those horrible things happen to him or her is unthinkable. Plus the fact I’m in no position to ever take care of a child. But here, behind these enclosed walls, I have no choice. He’s never going to let me go now. Once he finds out for sure it’s his child, and it is because I haven’t slept with anyone in quite some time, he’ll never release me. Not until after I give birth, anyway.

I saw the look in his eyes last night when he was confessing to me about not being able to have children. There was a look of quiet desperation, as if he dared not even dream about the possibility. That the hope of something so unreachable was nothing but a waste of time.

I know in my heart he’ll want this child, at any cost.

My sporadic thought process is interrupted when the door opens and in steps crew-cut guy. While I still don’t know his name, I know exactly why he’s here, so I run to the bathroom to hide the evidence, even though I know it’s no use. I can’t flush them down the toilet.

Can I?

I think he knows exactly where my head is because he beats me to it. He crosses the threshold of the private room, collects the evidence and leaves, locking the door on his way out.

He must pay his employees a lot to keep their mouths shut. Damn him. It’s the first time I despise the fact that he has money at his disposal.

I pace back and forth all day, extending my nervousness well into the evening. I’m about to retire for the night when the door flings open, a pissed-off Drayden standing in the doorway.

“Well, well, well. Look at what the all-wonderful Essie pulled off that no one else could. She went and caught herself the biggest prize of all.” He doesn’t move from the doorway; I don’t think he trusts himself enough to come in closer. “Are you satisfied?”

Is he for real? How can he think I want this? Well, I can see how he would think it in all honesty, but still. This is the last thing I wanted to happen. “No!” I shout. “I never wanted this to happen. Ever!” I’m getting all worked up again, feeling my flesh start to heat. He must see it, too, because he comes right at me.

“Calm the hell down, Essie,” he says curtly. “No dramatics are needed anymore. You got what you wanted.” He starts pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in the carpet. His hands are tucked into his suit pants, clenching to try and relieve some of his anger. His shirt sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. Taking a better look at him, he seems all-over disheveled. I’m sure this news throws a wrench in his plans for me. I’m sure he was expecting all three tests to come back negative, only leaving him with the simple decision of what to do with me next. How to get me out of his life for good. Now, he’s stuck with me for at least the next nine months.

“I don’t care if you believe me or not. But I didn’t want this. And besides, I didn’t force you to fuck me without a condom. You act like I’m the only one responsible here.”

Well,
that
little statement gets quite the reaction from him. He stops pacing and shoots me some fierce daggers. “You tricked me, you
bitch
.” His blue eyes darken and his nostrils flare while the ticks of his jaw remind me of an uncontrollable spasm. The rapid expansion of his chest heaving in and out is also a clear indicator he’s beyond upset with me.

Giving it a quick thought, I realize he had every right to say that. I
did
trick him. I tricked him into thinking I wanted him to force himself on me. What I
didn’t
do was trick him into not wearing a condom. We both share that responsibility here, and he isn’t going to pin the whole thing on me. Not all alone.

“I didn’t trick you into not protecting your precious little dick, now, did I?” I really should learn when to shut up.

“Little dick?” Of course
that’s
the part he chooses to focus on. He’s such a guy. “Do you need a reminder of just how
not
little my dick is?” He takes a few steps toward me and stops, trying to be intimidating enough for me to cower. It’s working. He’s really enraged. If it’s my intention to have him leave soon, I should really keep quiet. But of course, there’s a disconnect between my rebellious brain and my ballsy mouth.

“Yeah, you reminded me last night when you stripped naked and pinned me to the bed.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake, Essie. Shut up!

His look of rage is replaced by fear. “Did we have sex last night?”

I don’t know why I’m contemplating releasing him of any feelings of guilt or regret. I should go ahead and mess with him because he’s not going to make my stay here any easier. But I’ve done enough to this man. The least I can do is tell him the truth. This time. “No, we didn’t.”

There. That does it. I see the fear flee from his eyes, only to be replaced with anger once again. Anger at me. Anger at this whole situation.

Since neither one of us knows what else to say at this point, he decides to leave but not before asking me if I’m hungry, to which I reply a simple no. I can’t even think about food right now. I’m already sick to my stomach, and it has everything to do with what transpired in the past day.

He leaves the room, taking with him the hope that anything is going to go my way from here on out.

The next morning does nothing but bring more questions and more uncertainty. I know he’s going to want a paternity test, even though I know without a doubt this is indeed his child. I have to get some things out on the table, and there is never a good time like the present.

So I wait for him. I’m always waiting for him. Everything is done or said on his terms and his precious time. It’s rather quite annoying; something I’m not used to dealing with. I’m always in control, except for the rare instance when I was not. But that was long ago. It won’t happen again. I’ve worked too hard to ever be put back into those circumstances.

Hence, tricking Drayden.

He doesn’t bring me my breakfast, instead waiting until lunch time to make his daily appearance. He must have come from a meeting of some sort because he’s dressed in one of his impeccable designer suits, the dark fabric really making his blue eyes pop. He really is quite gorgeous. I’m sure he has to fight the women off everywhere he goes. Or not. The more I think about it, he probably went right back to bedding every woman in sight.

My body tenses. Why does the thought unnerve me? Make me jealous? I can’t stand the man. He’s arrogant and downright mean when he wants to be, treating me no more than a common whore. But I guess I handed it to him on a silver platter, proving to be nothing more than a gold digger, only looking to get my hands on his money. But some things have changed since that fateful day. There
is
an undeniable attraction between us, but I royally fucked things up with my greed. There is no getting him now; not that I even want him. Do I?

No, of course not.

This is not how you start a relationship. Not that I would know anything about it. I’ve never been in a relationship in my life, only being the object of men’s desire. Some was of my own will. Some not.

I’m not sure which one Drayden is shaping out to be. The other night, I thought he was going to cross the line, but he didn’t. Would he have remained true to his word and not forced himself on me? Would I have willingly given myself to him like he predicted?

I guess I’ll never know.

I know I remind him of everything which is going wrong in his precious little planned-out life. The girl who managed to snag his seed, locked away somewhere in his house. You can’t dream this shit up. It’s too good…or bad, depending on how one looks at it. For me, it’s bad. For Drayden, well, I’m not sure how exactly he views our situation. I’m sure he sees me as a nuisance, a mere problem who will eventually go away. But from his own admission, he thought for the longest time he was unable to have children. And here I am, presenting him with the very thing he thought was unattainable. But how does he feel about that? Is he happy? Is he angry? How long ago was the accident and how long has he been living with the fact he can’t ever have an heir? Does he even care?

There are way too many questions, and I know I’m not going to get an answer to any of them right now. The simple fact is Drayden Warner is the type of man who is always in control, who always tries to predict the outcome of any situation in which he finds himself, whether it’s of a business nature or a personal one. Well, this is one situation where he has no say, and I personally know what it’s like to be thrown into a scenario where the control is just outside of your grasp. It messes with you, with your very essence and sense of self.

If he’s feeling even an ounce of what I feel when all the power is taken away then he is surely not a happy camper and not someone to mess with right now, or ever.

I’ll forever be a reminder to him something didn’t go his way. That he was tricked and taken advantage of. If I ever thought somewhere in my twisted mind we could ever be something more, someday, that thought went right out the window once my eyes bore into his. Once I truly saw the way he looked at me. I’m not talking about the lust in his eyes when he peruses my body. No, I’m talking about the look of disgust and regret woven into his stare when he
really
looks at me.

I’m so lost in my own head, I completely blank on the fact he’s here in my room with me. He places a tray of food on the bedside table, glances over at me and then makes his way back toward the door to leave. That’s it? Nothing? He can’t even say anything to me? Well, to Hell with that.

“Hey!” I shout out as I straighten my back, preparing for yet another round.

His only response is to stop before he leaves, never turning around. “What?”

“What’s the plan, big guy? Where do we go from here?” I’m not quite sure what I’m expecting, but if I’m paying attention at all, I should have seen his form go rigid, the mere thought of dealing with me today apparently too much for him to handle. I kind of miss the back and forth between us, even if it’s always of a negative connotation.

“I’m having a doctor come by later today to do a blood test, just in case. But I can’t test for paternity until you’re at least ten weeks along.” He still never turns around, his head facing straight ahead of him.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to keep me locked up that long? You can’t do that!” I say, flying off the bed, trying to get to him before he escapes my little dungeon. I make the mistake of touching him, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. I’m desperate for him to look at me, to give me something, but he never does. He shrugs away from my hand and leaves the room, locking me back in, surrounded by all my fears and uncertainty.