CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

CAROLINE – POINT OF VIEW

I wake up slowly, my whole body aching, and my heart trembling.

Instinctively, I place my hand on my belly, hoping my baby is safe. I don’t feel any damage, and relief floods me. I know I still have to do a full-body scan, but my baby is safe for now. Am I safe, though? Are we safe?

I look around, my head throbbing painfully. I’m in a large bedroom of an expensive home, or so it looks. 

The bed is large and soft. The bedroom is colour-coded and lavish. It seems like a luxurious hotel, but it has the warmth of a home. A scent hangs in the air, not foul, but not pleasant either. A bit bothersome. 

I’m noticing all the wrong things. I need to find out where I am and leave. The last thing I remember is running into his arms. I’d come here for him. I don’t know why I thought he would protect me, but he did. He moved with the speed of light, pulling me out of the car before it exploded. He saved my life. I would be dead without him. I’m hoping this is his home.

I get off the bed and stifle a groan, my feet aching.

I feel like I have been run over by a car. Thankfully, I haven’t. All because of him. Salvatore.

I walk towards the door and carefully open it. I am blown away by the lavish display of wealth. I walk down the stairs cautiously, looking around, hoping I find someone. The house seems empty, but I know it’s not empty. There is a presence here. How am I so aware of the supposed presence? The trip here has obviously knocked a bolt out of my head.

I stifle a yawn as I run my palm over the painted walls. 

This is a beautiful home.

The living space is grand and empty. I make my way to the dining room, then the kitchen. I turn on the tap and fill a glass full.

I’m in a stranger’s house, drinking his water, and he’s nowhere to be found. Could he have left me here alone? That wouldn’t be wise on his part. This is New York, and people steal stuff. I don’t, but people do.

“Hello,” 

The deep voice cuts through my thoughts.

I gasp, pulse throbbing loudly, and turn around sharply.

He is right here. Standing tall. Shirtless, glistening, with wet hair and sharp brown eyes.

“H … Hi?” I clear my throat, cheeks burning.

“Hi.” He narrows his gaze at me and drags his gaze to my belly. He’s staring at my stomach with a sniper’s precision. There isn’t warmth there, just curiosity and disbelief. 

I take a step back and shield my belly with my hand. He doesn’t get to look at me that way.

I exhale, look around and say, “N … Nice place you have here, really … nice.”

“Yes, one of my many properties.” He nods calmly.

I fake a smile, “Nice.”

I’m so confused. What do I say to a man I slept with once? A man whose baby I’m carrying. How do I make sense of this? 

I might as well hit the nail on the head.

“This is awkward for us. Very awkward.” I begin, cheeks puffed, “I am carrying a baby. A one-night stand’s baby. My life is forever changed. I didn’t expect the baby, of course, but I’m old enough to take care of it.” I wave my hand in the air with a roll of my eyes. “I don’t really need much from you, but I thought you should know. More importantly, those men were after me, turning up at the hospital, then following me. I … I just had to get out of London, and find shelter here.”

He doesn’t interrupt.

“I am sure they’ve been handled, right?” I ask hopefully, “The NYPD should have them in custody now. I don’t really want to make a fuss about it. I just want them gone.  A restraining order will do the job. I just want my baby and I safe. I don’t want to be at work and keep looking behind me to make sure no creepy people are following. Also, those men were talking about you, like they knew you. It was … creepy.”

I lean against the counter, heart racing. I am nervous. I have been rambling, and he has been silent. I shouldn’t say anything again, but I do.

“I found out about the babya few weeks ago, and I’ve been spiralling,” I laugh dryly, rubbing my throat, “I’ve been really spiralling, and as much as I want to pretend to be totally on board now, I’m not, but some parts have sunk in. I’m having a baby. Our baby!” I chuckle awkwardly.

He finally speaks, tone dripping with disdain, “That is not my baby.”

“What?” I frown, confused.

“That is not my baby.” He repeats sharply, “I cannot have children. You’re not carrying my child. You are definitely carrying someone else’s baby.”

I rear backwards in shock, insulted, “Someone else’s baby? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You slept with me moments after meeting. What is to say you don’t do it often? This baby can be someone else, not me. It is.” He walks closer.

My heart skips a beat. I am trapped in a house with a huge man.

“Do it often? Are you calling me a prostitute?” I glare at him, pulse throbbing heavily in my ears.

He scoffs, face impassive, “I don’t care what you are. I am not one to judge. Prostitution is one of the oldest professions.”

“I am not a prostitute,e yo,u idiot! I am a Doctor!” I snarl, cheeks burning.

He closes the space between us, and I brace for the worst, only for him to reach behind me and get a glass of water.

“I do not care what you are, woman.” He calmly informs me. “The baby you are carrying is not mine, and I will prove it.”

“Prove it?” I blink because DNA testing is not possible this early.

“I have a qualified team of healers coming in. They will put an end to this nonsense, and you can be on your way. In the meantime, make yourself scarce, and do not go wandering around.” He hisses and walks away.

What an asshole.