Make Things Right

I stepped through the door, with my bodyguard, Stephen, trailing behind me. It had been a week of hospital visits and tests upon tests that I was getting comfortable with, and yet, I could never get comfortable with having someone follow me around twenty-four-seven.

"Ostav'te eto mne, bossu," Marcus said. [Leave it to me, boss.]

"Vy ne v tom sostoyanii, chtoby brat'sya za peregovory—"

[You're not in the right condition to handle a negotiation—]

"Proshla uzhe nedelya, Markus. Ya tyanu vremya tseluyu nedelyu. Ya dolzhen sdelat' eto sam," I cut in sharply

[It's been a week, Marcus. I've been stalling for a week. I have to be the one doing this.]

Although I couldn't understand shit. I knew they were having an argument about something and it immediately made me uneasy.

"Mr Kstervenchi, Mr Larvin." They both turned to me. I eyed the frown on their faces warily.

"You called for me, sir," I said meekly.

"Come with me," Mr Kstervenchi said, walking away. I glanced at Marcus before rushing after him.

He disappeared into a room, leaving the door ajar, and I walked in. He took a seat, then motioned for me to do the same, and I did.

I wriggled my fingers in my lap, my toes curling tightly.

"We've encountered a problem, Miss Marlowe."

I knew it.

Dread pooled low in my stomach.

"Okay..." I whispered.

"Due to some... complications, we can no longer do a medical implant."

I frowned. "But the doctor said I was fine. All the tests came back clear."

"It's not a medical obstacle but a personal one, Miss Marlowe."

"Okay... so... what other options are there?"

His lips turned down with displeasure. "We will have to do it the traditional way."

Silence.

I let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, by the traditional way, do you mean sex or... Is there another..."

"I mean sex, Miss Marlowe."

Silence settled between us again, stretching for a couple of minutes, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.

"What?"

"For the inconvenience, I'm offering another five hundred thousand in addition—"

"Inconvenience!" I echoed, staring at him in disbelief. "Is that what this looks like to you? An inconvenience? One that you can slap away with money?"

"Can we not make this harder than it already is—"

"Do you hear yourself, Mr Kstervenchi. We're basically strangers, and yet, you sit there demanding we have sex like we're discussing the weather, when you know damn well that it wasn't a part of the contract I signed."

His brows pinched tightly. "Trust me when I tell you I do not want this, Miss Marlowe—"

"And neither do I."

"But I do not have a choice in the matter—"

"Sounds like a you problem to me, Mr Kstervenchi."

His jaw ticked slightly. "$1.5 million in total money if you choose to do it."

"And if I don't?"

He stared at me, his eyes hard.

"Then the contract will be revoked, and all treatment for your mother will be stopped with immediate effect."

I froze.

My lips quivered, my eyes moistened, then my fingers curled into fists on my lap.

"You cannot do that," I whispered. "The contract clearly stated—"

"I know what the contract stated, Miss Marlowe. I'm the one who made it after all. I can also change it or make it disappear if I so choose to."

"You bastard," I croaked as tears rolled down my face.

Something akin to sadness flickered across his face, but my vision was too blurry to notice anything.

"It's just sex, Miss Marlowe. And it's one time—"

"Fuck you, Kstervenchi," I cut in, my tone bitter and hateful. Then I stood up and headed for the door. "You can take your offer and shove it up your wicked ass."

I opened the door forcefully, then slammed it closed. Marcus rushed up to me almost immediately.

"Miss Marlowe—"

"Fuck you too, Larvin. I hope you and your boss both rot in hell," I hissed, rushing out of the building. Stephen made to follow me, but Marcus's voice stopped him. 

The first time I came here, I was a bit sceptical about the house being far away from civilization. But as I spent more time at the mansion, I began to appreciate how secluded it was, especially because there was always a car to take me out and bring me back.

Now, I hated it.

By the time I got close to the road, my feet ached. Perspiration ran down my body, and all my anger had disappeared, leaving only anguish and exhaustion.

I slumped to the ground just as a loud wail cracked past my lips. 

I felt fooled, used and stupid.

Just when things looked like they were finally working out. Just when I was starting to get comfortable living a good life, only for it to be ripped away. 

And my mother.

The cries came out louder as soon as my mother came to mind. The doctors said she was responding fine and that she'd soon be on her feet. Hearing that had made me so happy, and now this...

I have to go back. It's just sex, after all. And besides, it was going to be a one time as he said. But what if I didn't carry after that one time, then—

Oh, God.

It was already bad having to marry him and be his surrogate. It'd be worse if I do this. Then catastrophic if my mother ever found out about it.

This is not you, Amy. You will not stoop so low because of money. 

I stood up, my movements shaky as I neared the main road. A car sped past me, then a taxi followed. I flagged it down and got in, heading back to my old apartment.

By the time I arrived, the sky had gone dark. I inserted the key before opening the door. The stale smell of poverty wafted toward me instantly.

I had decided not to tell anyone I was moving away, so I'd just locked it and left it until my rent ran out.

A wise decision.

I trudged to my room before collapsing on the bed.

"What now, Amy?" I whispered to my empty room. 

I'd already quit my job at the club and restaurant. So now, I was back to square one with only a few dollars in my account.

I curled into myself as another round of tears began rolling down my face. But this time, sleep eventually took me.

Christopher's POV 

One, two... today marked the third day since Amelia Marlowe stormed out of her new apartment and went back to her old one.

I felt so ashamed, and yet, I couldn't muster the courage to go back and apologize. I instead turned my focus to getting new candidates, but they all just didn't fit. 

"Chrissy!"

I blinked, my gaze landing on Vivian. I walked up to her, my expression worried. "Is everything alright?"

"You placed the finished crochet bag in the same space as the unfinished ones."

My shoulders sagged in relief. I went to her crochet wardrobe and arranged it, then I walked back.

"What is wrong with you, Chris? You've been acting weird."

I dragged a palm down my face with a heavy exhale. "I'm sorry, Viv. My mind is just occupied."

She squinted at me with disbelief before settling into bed as she continued her knitting.

"How's everything going? With the lady, I mean..." she muttered, shifting in her bed uncomfortably.

"I'm working on it."

"I know you are. That's why I'm asking how it's going."

I took a seat on the sofa. "You don't need to worry yourself, Viv—"

She dropped the knitting needle and yarn with a heavy sigh. "Seriously, Chris. I hate when you do this."

"Do what, Viv?"

"I hate it when you lie to me!" she yelled. 

I turned my gaze from hers, my lips pressed into a thin line.

"Did Marcus tell you—"

"Oh, who cares about who told who? You should be ashamed of yourself, Chris. What you did was totally uncalled for."

"I didn't know what else to do, Viv! I didn't have a choice!" I yelled back, frustrated.

"But you do have a choice, Chris!"

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes blazing with anger.

"I feel so repulsed by you and your actions. I have to believe that you damn well did not cut off her mother's treatment."

"I didn't," I grunted, my brows pinched tightly. "It was a desperate attempt to make her cave, Viv. You know the position I'm in right now."

"Desperate doesn't give you the right to take away a person's choices, Chris."

"Well, what would you suggest I do?" I groaned, glaring at her.

"Oh, don't give me that look. You know what to do, Chris."

"She wasn't going to do it anyway, Viv."

"And how do you know that?"

"I don't know, Viv! Take a wild guess."

She exhaled tiredly. "You have to go and apologize and make things right, Chris."

"What's the point? Apologizing doesn't change the fact that she won't do it."

"Because you think you're too old for her?"

"Am I not?"

"Have you seen yourself, Chris?" she echoed, then climbed down from the bed, making her way toward me. Her fingers curled under my chin, tilting my head up.

"You are the most thoughtful, kindest, most protective man I have ever been with or met."

The fight immediately left my bones.

"A face like yours," she whispered, tracing a finger down my chin. 

My expression softened, and a light blush dusted my cheeks and ears.

"A heart like yours." Her hand went down, brushing over my chest.

"Age means shit when it comes to a man like you, Chris. Not when I know firsthand how good you treat a woman you like and how far you're willing to go to make her yours."

Her eyes met mine and my breath stilled. "Look at her as you would a woman you want and do your best to make her change her mind."

"She's quite different, Viv," I muttered.

"But she is a woman underneath it all, Chris. She is still a woman who craves and will appreciate love."

I let out a heavy breath, then took her hands in mine. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Anytime, my love. Now go and make things right."