Unholy Promises (32 page)

Sophia rubs her face with her hands, saying from behind us, “This. This is why I didn’t want to tell you both at the same time.”

Garrett lunges at me and I take a hard hit as we collide, shoulder to shoulder. I grab him and roll, taking most of the bed coverings with us as we fall onto the floor, but manage to keep Sophia from becoming tangled in the middle of us. “As if?” I demand.

“Are you doubting the love I have for you and Sophia, or that I would stay because of a child?”

The thud of our fists colliding with each other’s chests seem to punctuate the conversation. I knock the air from his lungs and his answer, “Both,” comes out as a grunt.

The outer door slides open and six of Garrett’s security team swarm in to separate us.

Held away from each other, we both glare at Sophia, knowing she hit the emergency button. She walks over to us and, in her nakedness the soft swell of evidence that has probably been there for weeks becomes painfully obvious.

“Do you think you can both behave now? Or should I have them put you both in the Isolation Sphere to cool you down?”

“Why?” Garrett asks and he looks devastated. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

She walks closer to him and the guards hold him in check, though in his defeated state, he sags, no longer a threat to me … never having been a threat to her. She takes his face in her hands and holds his face in a solid hug, making him connect gazes. “I wasn’t sure how to hold on to everything I wanted … you, him, the three of us together, a baby

… it seemed that I might have to give something up and I wanted to give up that which would hurt least—and as painful as it is to admit it … for a moment I believed that to be our child. But the thought lasted only a moment. I could no more live without this child as I could live without you … or without him.” She kisses him and he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m a greedy bitch, Master, if you haven’t already figured that out. I want you. I want Lord Fyre. I want this child. And I will do whatever it takes to keep all of us together. So, I expect no less effort from you.”

She kisses him again before turning her flame-filled gaze on me. “Or you.”

Sophia sits on the leather couch in Garrett’s office. She is naked and completely at ease with her nudity. She brought me here from the dining room. I honestly can’t believe that we were in the dining room after her announcement, but with Garrett, the show must go on and life happens around the club schedule. I caught his face as I followed her from the dining room and it was clear on his face that he was devastated. “This isn’t fair to Garrett.”

“I just need to talk to you about this and there hasn’t been time and now there is.”

She pats the leather seat beside her. “Please sit? Please talk to me?”

I sigh and sit, frustrated that life has filled my life with chaos ever since I got on that plane to Paris. I worry for Nikkos, I regret Eva, and now … even though I seemed to have come to my senses in time to save my relationship with Garrett and Sophia, fate seems to be conspiring against me. I look at her, wanting to take her into my arms, wanting to tell her that everything is going to be okay, that the three of us can carry on as if nothing has changed, but all of that seems a lie, and honestly, the next move is hers.

“I’m scared,” she says, taking my hands. She pushes up the sleeve to my long-sleeved T-shirt and traces the imprint of my brand. “I marked us, knowing I was pregnant, wanting to hold onto the three of us so tightly, that that was all that mattered.”

“Why are we having this conversation away from Garrett? It seems he’s a fairly big part of what is happening to our relationship—”

She interrupts me, “But it’s my body, my life that will have to change most drastically if I decide to keep this baby, and he cannot be the one to make this decision and do so solely on emotion.”

“I agree that it is your body, but it affects all of our lives, and since I am going on the assumption at this point that you aren’t having an abortion, the rest of this conversation has to involve all three of us.”

She pulls her hands from mine. “I thought you would understand. I thought we could talk about this and figure things out … and—”

“Leave Garrett out of it?” I laugh harshly. “I know how I would have felt if I would have returned from Paris to find that the two of you had hashed out all of the details without any input from me … and that wouldn’t have gone over so well—especially if you’d had an abortion. So, let’s go. Garrett’s waiting.”

She shakes her head, “No. I almost lost you to Eva. I will not lose you because of this baby. We have to talk about this.”

“Not here. Not now. Not without Garrett.” I stalk to the door and open it, beckoning her to come with me.

She pouts, staying stubbornly on the couch. “This isn’t fair!”

“Sweetheart, this is only the beginning of how unfair things are going to feel for a while and you already know I’m not adverse to throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out of here. Babies tend to change everything.”

“I know,” she says, joining me. “That’s what I’m afraid of most.”

“My feelings are hurt. Okay?” I lift my gaze to Jackie’s, but don’t look at her. I look behind her. Kitten went through the security exit with Thomas half an hour ago and I wait impatiently for her return. The entire tale has been laid out for Jackie and she doesn’t seem to understand the problem. Obviously. Because she says, “So you don’t want this baby?”

I sigh, looking into her eyes for the first time. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

I shake my head. “I’m thinking about my once ill-timed proposal, promising Kitten the dream … babies, white picket fences … I’m almost certain you remember that trip back to Cincinnati.” Since Jackie was there for that particular meltdown, I wonder why she hasn’t brought it to my attention. “You forced me to face the truth and nothing has changed since then. Kitten is this lifestyle … she eats it, she breathes it … she lives for it

… and there’s no room for suburbia in the life we share. There is no room for a child.”

Jackie tsks. “It’s a little late to be saying this now. The bun’s already in the oven, dough-boy.”

“I’m not the father.”

She gives me a sideways glance.

“I had a vasectomy while Kitten spent those three months with Thomas,” I admit. “I couldn’t bear the thought of having sex with her and feeling the way I did, wanting a child so desperately, and chancing having her faced with a pregnancy she obviously wasn’t ready to deal with. I was afraid that subconsciously I might make it happen.”

“Well, aren’t you the genius?”

“I thought I was.”

We both sigh and look toward the exit door. Jackie states the obvious, “Thomas is the father.”

I stand. “I can’t stay here. I’m going home. She didn’t want to talk to me about this before I found out … she obviously doesn’t want to talk about this now—clearly, I’m odd-man-out.

“Sit down, Garrett. You’re making a spectacle.”

I lift a brow, “You live and breathe for spectacle.”

“Not today. Not when it’s something this serious,” she hisses. “They’ll be back any minute and the three of you can hash this out.”

“You said that a half hour ago.” I run my fingertips across the linen tablecloth. Once they were white, now they are a deep rose, a Kitten decision, and I have to agree, the effect throughout the room is stunning. So much here and at home is different because of Kitten’s presence in my life and it becomes clear what my real fear is … not a baby, not if Kitten will be capable of toning down her interpretation of the lifestyle enough to include a child, not even that when she realizes Thomas is the father her feelings for him will deepen and lessen for me—I don’t want to lose her.

I don’t want to live without her.

Once I loved and lost and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t somehow think of Tony … I can’t live my life thinking about her day after day and not being able to have her.

“Well then they can’t be that much longer, can they?”

I turn away and start toward the elevators, saying over my shoulder, “They know where to find me.”

I’m standing in front of the windows, looking out across the city, or rather, watching the city lights blur one into the other, when I hear the front door open. It only takes a second to realize that it is Kitten and Thomas. I don’t turn around, I don’t greet them; what I do is hold my breath and close my eyes, waiting, holding in all the emotion that has been spewing out of me ever since I left the club … yelling, screaming, crying, ranting, pacing … I’ve run the gamut and I’m exhausted from it.

Kitten wraps her arms around my middle and lays her head on my back, hugging me from behind, molding into me. I breathe. She is wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I can’t remember the last time I actually saw her in clothing.

“We couldn’t find you at the club, Jackie said you left.”

I hear Thomas moving behind us, but he doesn’t come close, he sits on one of the leather sofas, the fabric making a crinkling sound as he sits.

“Did you come to some sort of a decision with Thomas?” I ask.

She hugs me. “There was no decision making. There was barely any talking.”

She moves and I realize it was to turn and look at Thomas, the tone of her voice makes me realize that she isn’t happy with him either. I also realize that she is standing in our living room and talking … a definite violation of house rules. I guess today we’re making an exception. I certainly don’t feel like dragging her down the hallway to punish her.

“You are a part of this and we came here to talk about what we want to do.”

I snort.

“I didn’t mean to exclude you,” she insists.

“Kitten, don’t.” I turn to face her, leaning my back against the window, arms crossed in front of me. “You meant to completely shut me out of any decision making from the moment you realized you were pregnant and didn’t share the news with me.”

She looks at me, certainly seeing that I’ve been crying, and I don’t care that she sees.

She touches my arm and says, “I’m sorry. I haven’t handled things very well.”

I lift my eyebrow but don’t say anything; I especially don’t acknowledge her apology.

“I thought…” She closes her eyes, pausing. “I needed…” She opens her eyes and seeks my gaze. “I’m sorry. I should have told you immediately. I should have been jumping up and down crazy-excited, knowing how much you’ve always wanted a child and knowing that I was going to give you one.” Tears fill her eyes. “That wasn’t my reaction. I was shocked and in disbelief, then I was numb and didn’t know what to think or feel, I just knew I wanted to talk to Thomas because usually we can talk about anything, usually he knows me better than I know myself…”

Her words make Thomas shift in his seat and I realize that he’s refused to talk to her about this. She’s only here because he’s making her be here. Knowing that hurts more than all of it put together.

“I just didn’t know what to say to you.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. I keep my arms crossed as a barrier between us. “I’m scared to death that a baby is going to ruin everything.”

I look over her head at Thomas; he’s looking straight ahead at the portrait over the fireplace. It’s new. We commissioned a local artist to paint the three of us months ago and it arrived while he was in Paris. I saw no reason to not hang it and, I admit, I love it.

The artist did an amazing job, better than I would have ever believed. In it, we are all nude, Kitten is facing Thomas, cradled into him, her hand on his shoulder, her leg wrapped around his; she is looking into his face, he is looking down into hers; and behind her, I stand, spooned against her, my cheek lying against the top of her head and I too am looking at Thomas.

Isn’t he just the man of the hour? I shake myself like a big wet dog, mad at myself for the caustic thought. I love him. I love her. He loves us. He loves us enough to send Eva away, which totally blew my mind, having some idea how deeply he felt for her. So, it shouldn’t matter whether he fathered her child or if I fathered her child … but for that second, it had, and I can’t make the bitterness stop hurting.

“Will you please say something?” she asks.

I look down at her and shake my head. She’s crying but I can’t feel any compassion for her. I’m hurting too badly myself … and looking at Thomas, I realize that he is hurting just as badly. We’re a disaster.

I wonder if he hadn’t gone to Paris, if things would be this badly messed up. I imagine so; though perhaps we would have been talking sooner … we’d have at least talked. Right now, I don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like listening either.

I push off the window and step around her, walking over to the couch. I kneel in front of Thomas and he looks at me. He looks numb, completely numb. I ask, “Are you okay?”

He nods as we make eye contact. He isn’t okay, not nearly.

I lay my head in his lap and he cradles his hands around the back of my head. He says, “Sophia, sit down, and for now, just stop talking.”

Inhale, exhale. I close my eyes, seeking the peace Lord Fyre has taught me to find …

in the worst of times, in the worst of pain … inside myself. Kitten obeys him, taking the sofa opposite us. Without looking, I know she is sitting with her knees drawn up under her chin, her arms wrapped around herself, with her cheek resting on her knees. It’s a classic I’m-obeying-but-I’m not happy-about-it pose.

Thomas takes my hand and pulls me to sit beside him.

For an uncomfortable second we all sit looking at each other in silence, then Thomas breaks the silence. “Much will have to change, much will stay the same, but if you choose to keep this baby, I believe we will all find much joy in its life.” He looks at Kitten. “I know you are terrified, but believe me when I tell you that that is a normal feeling.” He looks at me. “All I need to know is do you want me to walk away or can we try to do this together?”

“Walk away?” I ask numbly. “You’re the father, you aren’t going anywhere. If anyone walks away, it should be me.”

Kitten gasps.

Thomas narrows his gaze. “You are certain?”