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I look at the both of them, but my mind is racing.

“Either way, even when blood betrays you, you must trust in greed. Your uncle doesn’t want the foundation going to Damian. He’d lose all this.” Lucas waves an arm around.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to gauge what’s true and what’s manipulation.

“Let me know where you want me to take you, the doctor or back to the café,” Lucas says.

“Cristina,” my uncle steps forward. “Let him take you to her office at least. You can see for yourself that she’s a legitimate doctor. You may not have another chance.”

I study him, try to see the man who raised me, but I can’t. I turn to Lucas.

“I’ll decide when I see her.”

“Good enough. Let’s go.”

I follow him to the apartment door.

“Cristina,” my uncle calls out.

I turn to him. “I’m trying to do what’s best for you, for the family.”

“No Uncle, you’re doing what’s best for you. Let’s at least be honest about it.”

I don’t wait for him to answer but walk out the door and into the elevator to the garage, then to a different car than the one we came in. The windows on this one are tinted too. That’s the only similarity.

“Why aren’t we taking the car we came in?”

“Just a precaution in case we were followed.”

We get into the car and pull out of the garage into busy Manhattan traffic.

He switches on the radio, humming along to a country song. Country. Didn’t think he’d be into that. I look over at him and I think about how I don’t know this man at all.

But how much do I know Damian?

I can only count on one thing. They are my enemies. They are all my enemies. Even my uncle.

But getting a birth control shot would buy me time just in case. If Lucas is lying, then it won’t hurt anything. But if he’s not and this is truly Damian’s plan it could save me.

Dr. Laura Jones has a private practice on the seventh floor of a building midway between the apartment and the café. Lucas walks in with me, tells the receptionist his name and asks to see Dr. Jones. We bypass the women in the waiting room and are ushered straight into an empty office.

Dr. Jones walks in not five minutes later. She’s in her mid-thirties, I guess, and seems to know Lucas.

“Lucas tells me you’d like a birth control shot, and mentioned the circumstances are unique, which is why he’s brought you to me.”

I nod. “How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

I bite my lip.

“If you’re unsure,” she says, glancing at Lucas. “We can do it another time.” She checks her watch. “I have a full schedule. You can always make an appointment and return when you’re ready.”

“No.” I won’t have a chance to return and I can’t get pregnant. I look at Lucas, try to gauge if he’s being honest. What can he have to gain by lying to me about something like this? “I’ll do it now,” I tell the doctor.

“All right. Just take a seat and roll up your sleeve.”

Lucas stands against the wall, watching as I do what the doctor says. Once the injection is prepared, she turns back to me.

I look at the needle. “That’s big.”

She smiles like you would to a child. “It won’t hurt much. I’ll numb the area.”

A few minutes later, my arm is numbed, and she pushes the needle into it. It still hurts, but I bite back the pain. I feel the solution going in, and all the while, I wonder if I’m not making a mistake. Part of me hopes Lucas is the liar because I don’t want it to be Damian.

“All done,” the doctor says, and I glance at the injection site, which has reddened. I roll down my sleeve and slip off the table, glad it’s over.

“Thank you,” I tell her as Lucas opens the door. I don’t talk to him on the ride back.

When we get to the café, he double parks again. “It was fun. Let’s do it again soon,” he says.

“Let’s not.” I slip out of the car.

“Cristina,” he calls out before I’ve closed the door.

When I turn back, he’s got the switchblade in his hand.

“I promised to give this back if you were good. You may need it yet.”

I take the knife, but before I can pull my hand away, he grabs it. His grip is firmer than I expect. His expression different than I’ve ever seen it. Hard but something else too. Something old. Something wounded. It’s at odds with the man I’m coming to know.

“Take care with him, Cristina. He breaks everything he touches.”

When he releases me, I back up a step. Feeling sick, like I want to throw up, I walk toward the café’s entrance. If what he says is true, then is Damian trying to get me pregnant already? How cruel would that be? The cruelest. And I’d just told Liam that he isn’t. That he doesn’t hurt me.

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