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***
I stare at the lines on the test in shock. “Shit!” I curse under my breath, glad that we are locked in the bathroom on another floor from my office, no one able to get in here and find out what’s going on. A hearty meal awaits me at my desk, but I don’t think I will feel like eating it. “I don’t know what I am supposed to do,” I tell my best friend, tears coming to my eyes for the first time since the day I left Brazil. I had not allowed myself to cry after I cried myself to sleep that night in the house of my parents before packing up and leaving, buying a penthouse apartment with cash on the spot the very next day. I wasn’t going to live with them no matter how lonely it makes me to be on my own in the silence.
“You’ve only been away for a month, so you have plenty of time to figure this out, Presley,” Paulo assures me, but I can’t stop staring at this test, telling me that I am pregnant with my husband’s child.
In a normal world, while I would be scared, I should also be happy. Children are nothing short of miracles and beautiful things, especially in the confines of a loving relationship. But this means so many things I am not ready to face. It means that all of this time that I have been pushing back memories like it was all a dream, that the time I spent as Mrs. Dalca was real. It also means that not only have I gotten married way before I ever thought I would, but now I am going to be a mother much sooner as well. And a single mother at that. I luckily don’t have to worry about money at all, but I do have to worry about bringing her or him into a world without a father or facing a father who is in the mafia and no good influences from my family either. She will be treated like an outcast with my family, just like I am. My mother may be glad to have me back under her thumb, but it is nothing more than that; glad I am not running wild and making her look bad. I am sure she loves me in her own way, but it is not the way a mother should feel about her child.
I can say one thing for certain; I will never be like that. I would rather be poor than make my child feel like he or she is not good enough.
“You’re right, but I just don’t know where to begin or if I should even tell him. I mean, he’s going to find out. My life never stays private for long.”
“You just found out and aren’t going to show for at least another month or two, so just breathe for now and take care of yourself. That’s all you can do.”
I nod robotically and let him lead me back into my office, the sound of a crying baby ringing in my ears as if it’s already here.
***
Stefan
The lights are almost all out in the place even though the clock lets me know if I were to step outside it would be broad daylight. I don’t know what day it is, and I don’t exactly care to know.
I take another drag from my cigar and hate that I don’t even get the satisfaction I am looking for from it.
I sit up and try a gulp of tequila instead, opting to take it straight out of the bottle. I cringed the first few times, but now it is just an acquired taste, making me numb. I don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol itself or just because I am getting used to the pungent flavor that would punch me in the mouth otherwise. It doesn’t really fucking matter anymore. Nothing does.
I hate my father, and I am happy to tell anyone who will listen. I have purged my men, not trusting anyone but Silva after the information leak that led to the demise of my marriage. The only thing that keeps me alive are the updates that I get from Silva bringing me news from the states about Presley and her family and the fact that she hasn’t filed for a divorce yet. Not that it means much since she won’t even communicate with me through the company. She has her brother and her best friend handling it all, feeding right back into the hand of her shitty family.
Not that I expected her to take well to the news that I had her kidnapped and put in a cage, especially since she got raped on the boat, but I didn’t expect her to walk away for good.
I blame myself, but I also blame my father. And I blame Lajos, who is still haunting from the grave. I don’t think it will be as simple as her leaving to get the person after us to leave us alone.
I have been dealing with it poorly, leaving the house only to gamble and drink expensive drinks instead of the monotony of drinking and smoking at home.
Suddenly, one of the blinds comes open violently and makes me say every cuss word known to man as I cover my eyes like a vampire.
“You need to wake up out of this stupor.” It’s Silva, and he throws something into my lap. It’s a magazine, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light so I can see what it is.
Oil Queen Pregnant with Gay Man’s Child?
That’s what I read splashed across the page, and I immediately turn to the page that it says pertains to the story and see the pictures; her buying the test with Paulo and the test being positive that someone picked up in the bathroom trash of an office building. I am furious. How could she get pregnant after only a month away from me, and while still legally married to me no less.
But then the logical side of me sets in and tries to tell me something through the fog of the smoke and alcohol. “The baby is mine. I have to get her back, Silva.”
“You’re damn right you do, but how? Other than cutting out this shit.” He waves his hand at the alcohol and cigar. I put the cigar out and pass him the bottle.
“Go pour this shit out and prepare to leak the story of the century because Presley is about to think her husband is dead.”
“Dead? What the fuck is in this tequila, Stefan?” he asks me as he takes it from my hand and flips on the kitchen light to the sounds of my groans It still hurts. I am nowhere near sober, though those words certainly keep trying to get me there – that Presley is pregnant.
“I am going to die peacefully in my sleep, according to the news story you’re going to have printed for me, anyway. And make sure that Paulo guy sees it somehow and takes it back to her.”
“I don’t follow how this is going to get her back,” Silva says, coming up to me and checking me for a fever. I wave his hand away in annoyance, batting at it like a bug. “Seriously, what good is it going to do? She will think she’s free.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Even Presley knows better than to believe that I would die peacefully in my sleep. Way too many enemies for that. She will want to come to the funeral, first of all, but she will also want to come and investigate to find out who killed me. She’s smart. She’ll think of the threats we were getting and assume whoever it has knocked me off.”
“You are insane.”
“Yes, but I am also your boss. See that it’s done.”
