Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“He said he’d come see you tonight, but you were to get situated in your apartment,” Philippe says.
This feels so wrong. So distant. As if something that never should have happened has descended on us, and I barely know how to crawl out of this hole I’ve dug myself into.
I hate the sickening dread I feel leaving here without him. It seems almost illogical that he feels I’ll be safer without him when he’s the only one who’s ever made me feel safe.
It comes as no surprise that when we get to the main floor a team of six bodyguards flanks me like I’m a goddamn celebrity.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I say with a grimace. “Really, guys?”
They don’t even look at me or make eye contact but anticipate every move.
Someone opens the door.
Another takes my jacket.
They move with fluid grace as one, and when I get outside into the bright light of morning, one is holding the door open. I know their names. I know who they are. But as I’m escorted into the waiting car, I forget everything. My mind goes to a weird, blank space, devoid of feeling or emotion. A place of self-protection.
In a trance, I let them drive through the city. A small part of me wonders if someone will come after me. I mean, if that wasn’t Lyam’s fear then why have an entire army of bodyguards on me?
I wish I could believe he’s doing this because he cares about me, but I know the truth. It’s the baby he cares about, not me. I’m only a vessel.
We drive past the Louvre, bright under the beaming sun and bordered by tourists. They’re screaming and yelling, but I can’t make it out. What are they going on about?
I’m empty and hollow inside. I don’t pay attention as we’re driving. I’m trying to remember how to breathe.
It’s just me now. Just me and this child I need to bring to term. I need to do anything and everything I can to make sure that happens.
Bed rest.
Good food.
Water.
Vitamins.
I list them all from rote memory, trying to will myself back to a place where I can feel confident and productive and centered.
But I can’t do it.
I think I sleep a little on the ride.
I had prepared myself for life without Lyam. I had convinced myself I could be a single mother and be resilient and capable and strong. And I still know I can. But the loss of him after what we’ve been through burns. It hurts so badly.
I wish I could believe there was hope for us, but everything feels so hopeless.
Yes, I should have told him the truth before it was too late. Now he’s done the very thing I feared from the beginning.
Somehow, some way, I end up at the apartment he’s planned for me.
The apartment they bring me to is clean and simple and functional, but lacks any interior decoration. The clean lines seem vacant, and even though the bed is made up with luxury sheets and a gorgeous comforter, it feels empty in here.
There’s no Lyam.
He secured this place before he rejected me, back when he thought he loved me, but sending me here now was a quick decision he likely made on the fly. Still, he’s taken care to make sure I have what I need here.
I open the fridge and note it’s stocked with my favorite things, even though I have no appetite. I find my prenatal vitamins, my favorite sparkling water, even light-blocking window shades and a state-of-the-art sound system. It’s beautiful and luxurious but feels barren.
I lay down on the sofa and glance at the clock. My only hope is that after Lyam’s burned off some energy, he comes back more centered and focused and ready to listen to the truth.
But as time ticks by, I begin to wonder.
Did he tell me a lie?
Did he only placate me?
After three hours pass with no Lyam, I begin to get angry.
Doesn’t he know that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do? Doesn’t he know that affiliation with someone doesn’t necessarily mean actually being in cahoots with them?
Does he really love me, or does he only love the idea of me?
I have my answer when Lyam doesn’t come at all.
SEVENTEEN
Lyam
I open my eyes and for a minute think I’m dreaming again.
Because this is where I come in my sleep. Dark walls. The smell of must and urine and the squeals of rats. The prison of my dreams.
Only this time, I’m not dreaming.
When I get out of these chains—and I will—I will kill them.
I draw in a breath and try to remember what happened.
I was outside Le Marquise, near the Louvre.
It was a setup. It was a fucking setup. He had those tourists planted so they could cause a mob scene and take me in.