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I push the door open, ignoring the concierge asking me if I need help as I head straight for the elevator. Alexandre gave me the room number on the phone. Nothing in the world can slow me down or stop me as I head up, gripping the elevator railing as if I could somehow make it move faster with sheer will.
If he’s hurt her, I’ll kill him.
When the doors opened, I burst out of the elevator and headed straight for 546, the number Alexandre gave me. I have a brief, momentary fear that he might have given me the wrong information and sent me on a wild goose chase while he spirits Ana away to wherever he might want to take her, but logic tells me that’s not true.Come here straightaway,Alexandre had said.We’ll settle this then, the matter of who Ana belongs to. No more of this nonsense.
If he was telling the truth, then Ana is here. And he is, at the very least, done with playing games.
I can only hope.
When I reach 546, I knock on the door firmly, my heart in my throat but trying to appear as composed as possible. I can’t throttle the man the minute the door opens, no matter how much I want to—but when it does swing open, and I see Alexandre’s face, grim and quiet, it takes everything in me not to do exactly that.
He lookshurt, as if he’s enduring the same pain that Ana has, that I have, as if he’s a brokenhearted man struggling with the potential loss of his love.How dare he think of Ana like that,I fume inwardly, shoving my way into the room and pinning him with an angry glare.
“What the fuck is going on—”
The words die on my lips as I see Ana sitting on the edge of the bed, her face so pale that the red marks on both cheeks from where someone has struck her are brightly visible, looking nearly painted on. I pivot towards Alexandre, a black fury rising up in me as I take two strides towards him, and it’s only Ana’s voice that stops me in my tracks.
“Liam, no—he didn’t hit me. It was Yvette.”
I whirl, instantly catching sight of the dark-haired bitch on the other side of the room. I can see a red scar on the side of her face, marring her otherwise model looks, but it’s not enough to make up for the fact that she’s still breathing.
“I thought I killed you,” I growl at her, clenching my teeth.
Yvette gives me a cold smile. “I don’t die easily.”
“Clearly. But it’s a mistake I can rectify. Especially after youdaredto put your hands on Ana again—”
“Liam, we have things to discuss.” Alexandre’s voice cuts through the air, sharp like a knife. “Or are you more concerned with Yvette than the woman you claim to love?”
“Of course not.” I round angrily on him. “Butyoucan’t even protect her from this cunt, so how dare you suggest to me that you should have any say in—”
“What is that?” Alexandre points to the bag in my hand, and I feel everything in the room come to a screeching halt.
I glance over at Ana, who has somehow gone even paler, as impossible as that seemed. Her blue eyes are wide with terror, and I want nothing more than to go to her and hold her, pull her into my arms and promise her that everything will be okay. But from the way Alexandre has angled himself between us, it’s clear that he’s not going to let me get to Ana so easily.
Ana shakes her head, the expression on her face fearful, but from the way Alexandre’s eyes have narrowed, flicking from the drugstore bag in my hand to my face and back again, it’s clear that he’s not going to let this go so easily.
“What. Is. In. The. Bag?” Alexandre repeats the question through gritted teeth, his sharp jaw clenching tightly with irritation that I didn’t immediately answer his question. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Liam—”
“I’m not one of your pets,” I snap at him. “I don’t have to jump when you say jump, and I certainly don’t have to divulge personal information to you—”
Alexandre snatches the bag out of my hand before I can stop him, before I can even react, with one surprisingly fast movement. “I’ll find out myself,” he hisses, and I hear Ana’s small cry of fear as he opens the bag, peering inside.
I see his face go pale too as he registers the contents, shock written across every feature as he slowly looks up, first at me and then at Ana, and then at me once again.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asks quietly. “Is this for your fiancé, Liam? Saoirse? Did you take her precious virginity ahead of the wedding after all, lying to sweet Ana about your involvement with this other woman?”
I can hear the faint hope in his voice, that it’s something so salacious, something that would divide Ana and me forever. It would possibly send her back into his arms, and that’s exactly why I can’t use that lie. It’s a convenient one—it would get us out of having to admit to Alexandre that Ana is pregnant. But if I say out loud that I’ve been with Saoirse, I feel as if Ana won’t ever be able to completely forget my saying that, even if it’s not true. The trust between us is fragile, still building, and I can’t bring myself to say anything that might damage it in any way, especially after my error last night when I’d taken her to the ballet.
But I also can’t bring myself to tell Alexandre the truth, to give him anything that might make him think he has a claim on Ana more than he already does.
“Tell us the truth, Liam.” Alexandre’s mouth is curling on one side in a smirk as if he’s certain that my hesitation is because of Saoirse and not because of the truth—that Ana’s pregnancy will complicate things so much more.
“I—” I swallow hard. “This is a personal matter, I—”
“I threw up last night.” Ana blurts it out, her voice strangled, and my head instantly whips in her direction.
“Ana, don’t—”
