He takes a moment to deliberate before locking his brown eyes with mine. “He’s organized to have lunch with his wife today. They’re planning to eat in Ravenshoe.”
“Is that out of the ordinary for them?”
He nods. “The last time they ate together was Thanksgiving four years ago. To say things are strained would be an understatement, so why would he go out of his way to wine and dine her today?”
He has a point—regretfully. “Send someone to the restaurant he’s planning to dine at. It could be a waste of resources, but I’d rather be cautious.”
While he attends to that, I request the techie whose name I still can’t remember to bring up the main camera in Roxanne’s car, praying like fuck the last time I see her face won’t be through a computer monitor.
Twenty-Nine
Roxanne
Ibreathe out the nerves making me a jittery mess before making my way to the reception desk at Dr. Bates’s OBGYN office for the second time this morning. The foyer is inviting with music playing softly in the background and scented candles wafting in the air, but the feeling of dread refuses to leave me. Dr. Bates was the least creepy of my suitors when I was put up for auction. He was well-spoken, dressed nicely, and excluding when he tried to un-cut Dimitri’s profit by offering to pay me directly for my virginity, he seemed pleasant.
Fool me once, shame on me.
He won’t fool me again.
The information Smith shared about him when we discussed a way to bring him down for drugging Dimitri had me rechewing food I had earlier eaten. He has bounced his practice state to state, had more than a dozen affairs on his wife, and is linked to the disappearance of at least three women. All were in their final weeks of pregnancy, and all of them were blonde—his seemingly preferred choice.
His knowable likes are the reason I kept my hair red. We’re not here to entice him into locking me up in his playroom of kinks. We want him to pass me onto the men Dimitri believes are responsible for his daughter’s captivity.
Just the thought of being in the room with such men gives me the heebie-jeebies. Fortunately, the tingles I still feel buzzing on my lips from Dimitri’s awe-inspiring kiss is much more potent. It would encourage a saint to walk through Hell’s gates with a smile on her face and a wish for Satan to bring everything he has to the party.
“You can go straight in, Ms. Grace,” informs the receptionist when I place down the clipboard she requested me to fill in on arrival.
“Are you sure?” I scan the room brimming with patients, certain almost all of them were here before I arrived.
“Yes,” she responds with a smile, drawing my focus back to her. “Dr. Bates is waiting for you.”
“Okay.” I sound as uneased as I feel. The overflowing waiting room would make most women feel safe. There’s a weird comfort you get with numbers, but I’m not experiencing that. There is less chance of me being kidnapped since it’s the middle of the day, so my chances are even lower with a heap of spectators. I hope today’s charade isn’t utterly pointless. “Which way?”
The receptionist hands me a gown and a small jar with a yellow lid before pointing to a hall on our right. “Bathrooms are through the second door on the left. Dr. Bates is the one just after that.”
Nodding, I slowly make my way to Dr. Bates’s office. I could get changed as per the receptionist’s underhanded demand, but that would make the camera buttons in my dress futile. Considering it took Smith almost all night to fit them, I’d rather keep them in operation.
After breathing out my nerves, I push open the door with Dr. Bates tacked on the front. “Dr. Bates, hi.” My greeting is ridiculously sweet, my role of knocked-up virgin played to perfection. “The bathrooms were occupied, so I hope you don’t mind me skipping that part of my appointment.” I bite on the inside of my cheek, hopeful a rush of blood from my gnaw will have Dr. Bates believing I’m blushing. “I don’t feel comfortable doingthat…” I wave my hand over the ultrasound equipment next to a bed with obvious stirrups.
He swivels around to face me, blocking the images of multiple blonde females on the screen of his computer with his wide shoulders. Since he dyes his hair, it’s hard to guess his age, but if forced, I’d say mid-forties. “That’s fine, Roxanne. I don’t need to examine you today.” As he drags his eyes over my fire-engine red hair, he stands to his feet. He’s dressed more casually than he was at my auction, which is shocking considering this is his place of occupation. “Is that new?”
I sheepishly balance my chin on my chest as if I’m ashamed. “Dimitri preferred redheads.”
It’s the fight of my life not to seek out one of the many hidden cameras Smith advised me about this morning when Dr. Bates replies, “I have heard that.” While smiling at my flushed cheeks, he gestures his hand to the examination table. “Why don’t you put down your things and take a seat.”
I begin to wonder if we’ve misjudged him when my jump to his command is quickly chased by him checking my vitals. He takes my blood pressure, checks my pulse, and flashes a light into my eyes before asking a set of personal questions, such as, when did I last have my period.
“Umm…” His question legitimately stumps me. With my last thirty-six hours spent ensuring Dimitri has made the right decision to trust me, I didn’t have time to sit down and calculate a date that would have me six or so weeks along. “Around eight weeks ago.”
I touch his arm like I’m embarrassed to admit I had no reason to keep an eye on things like that only months ago. I’m honestly ashamed, so it’s an easy act for me to pull off.
An unpleasant glint darts through Dr. Bates’s eyes as he asks, “Have you had unprotected sex since your last period?”
The heat on my cheeks is real this time around. Not only is Dimitri eavesdropping on our conversation, almost every member of his team is as well. “Yes. Multiple times.”
I almost choke on my last two words, stunned I’ve not once cited an objection to Dimitri’s inability to sheath his cock with protection. I shouldn’t be surprised. I barely keep a rational head when he looks at me, so I don’t see me having the power to bark out a set of orders when his head is between my legs.
Dr. Bates drops his eyes to the monitor of his computer before asking, “Have you had sexual intercourse in the last twenty-four hours?” He didn’t need to hide his eyes for me to sense his annoyance. I can feel it radiating out of him.
