CHAPTER 9: Breathe, Please

Nadine’s POV

I didn’t breathe until the elevator doors closed.

The car ride to the hotel was silent, but my head was a war zone.

The taste of him was still on my lips.

Adrian’s cologne. That desperate, furious kiss. Seven years and my body still remembered him like a betrayal.

I stared out the window, watching the city I hated blur past, and wiped my mouth hard with the back of my hand. Then again.

And again.

"Nadine."

Roman’s voice was calm from the driver’s seat. He was watching me in the rearview mirror, his eyes steady.

"You’re going to make your lips bleed."

I dropped my hand into my lap, clenching it into a fist. My fingers were shaking.

"He kissed me," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "He just — he grabbed me like he had the right."

Beside me in the backseat, Natalie was asleep against her brother, her balloon still tied to her wrist. Nathaniel was awake, staring at me with those grey eyes that were too much like his father’s.

"I don’t want to talk about it," I said quickly, before Roman could ask. "I don’t want to talk about him."

Roman nodded, but he didn’t look away. "Okay. We don’t have to talk about him."

The rest of the ride was silent. I kept looking out the window, my fingers instinctively brushing through Nathaniel’s hair beside me.

The hotel was the Luxe Grand Suite — discreet, private, the penthouse floor was already secured for us.

Roman carried a sleeping Natalie while I held Nathaniel’s hand tight, maybe too tight, as we walked through the private entrance.

Once we were inside the suite, I finally exhaled.

Toys were scattered around the space, courtesy of the little time the twins spent with Roman before joining me at the facility. Their little suitcases by the wall.

The room filled me with warmth, it smelled like us. I shut my eyes, relieved to finally be in my own space.

"Okay, monsters," Roman called, forcing lightness into his voice as he set Natalie down. She batted her eyes sleepily as Roman pulled her cheeks tenderly.

"Go take a bath, then room service and cartoons. I promised your mom no sugar before dinner, but I’m willing to be bribed."

"Chocolate!" Nathaniel shouted, and for the first time since the conference room, I almost smiled.

“Just for tonight,” I tapped the tip of his nose, “We can’t have all your teeth falling out at the same time because of sugar.”

“Mommy, are we really going to loose all our teeth from taking chocolates?” Natalie asked, curious and serious.

I sent Roman a glare, “if you have too much of it, then yes. Come on babies, let’s go clean up.”

I led them into the main bedroom while Roman ordered food. When I came back out, he was leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, no longer pretending.

"He saw them," Roman said quietly.

I poured myself a glass of water with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking.

"He saw two kids with balloons. That’s all."

"Nadine."

"Roman, please." I set the glass down too hard. Water sloshed. "Don’t."

"He asked who they are. You saw his face."

"And I answered him," I snapped, my cold mask slamming back into place. "I said definitely not his. Because they’re not. They are mine. Mine, Roman. I raised them. I was there when they had fevers, when they learned to walk, when Natalie wouldn’t sleep without —"

"I know," he said softly.

"I am done with Adrian Kingsley," I said, each word precise, flat. "I felt nothing. That kiss was nothing. Seven years ago I was a stupid girl who thought silence was love. Now I’m Dr. Ivory. I don’t have time for — for grey eyes and big hands and —"

I stopped. I was wiping my lips again.

Roman reached over, gently, and lowered my hand.

"You don’t have to convince me, Nadine. You have to convince yourself."

Before I could answer, a thud came from the bedroom.

Then a scream. Natalie’s scream.

"MOMMY!"

My blood turned to ice.

Roman and I ran. I threw the bedroom door open, my eyes wide with worry.

Natalie was standing by the bathroom doorway, frozen, pointing with her little finger and her face white with fear.

Nathaniel was on the floor.

He had climbed onto the bathroom stool to reach the sink — he always did, he hated asking for help — and slipped. The back of his head had hit the edge of the marble tub.

There was blood. So much blood. Pooling fast under his dark curls, spreading across the white tile.

My hand flew to my mouth, "Oh my God — NATHANIEL!"

I dropped to my knees, pulling him into my lap. His eyes were fluttering, half-open. Blood was soaking my tailored suit, my hands.

"Mommy... it.. hurts..." he whimpered.

"Stay with me, baby, stay with me!" I was pressing the hotel towel to his head but it was turning red instantly. His eyes were starting to roll back and his breathing was becoming uneven.

My doctor brain shut off at that moment. I was just a mother watching her son bleed out.

“Come on baby, breathe, please,” I cried, pushing him to my chest.

Roman was already on the phone, shouting. "We need an ambulance to Luxe Grand Penthouse, NOW! Seven-year-old male, head trauma, heavy bleeding! We need a pediatric trauma team on standby!"

Natalie was crying, clutching my leg.

And through the ringing in my ears, I heard my own phone buzzing insistently on the counter.