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“What would your father think of this arrogant display of disrespect?” Sebastian spits out, his eyes not leaving me as I wrestle in Carter’s and Dante’s arms. Carter drags me back, farther away from the table, my legs failing around me as I try to punch, kick, hurt anyone who comes close to me.
“My father has left the family to me to manage, and this is my decision,” Hugo states, a little doubt creeping into his voice.
“We will see you in France, my friend.” Sebastian ends the call and stands, rolling his shoulders back. I shrug Carter off me, breathing heavily.
“How did you know?” I spit out at Sebastian as he comes to stand in front of me, angry that I am the last person to know I am having a fucking child.
“The cleaning crew found her positive tests in the rubbish and brought them to my attention this morning,” he answers honestly.
“It explains her sickness, her tiredness, her moods...” he adds, and my brain starts to catch up with the events. He is right; everything points to the same conclusion.
How and when run through my mind. But as I think about it, I become acutely aware. My breathing slows. Emilia has been throwing up, more tired than normal, her features shallow, and has even had a loss of appetite. I rub my eyes. This can’t be happening.
I want to feel joyous, excited. Emilia is pregnant, and we are having a baby. It is soon, but there is no question we will be a family. But with her not here, and currently in danger on her way to the other side of the world, I feel sick I couldn’t protect her.
“The jet is on standby. The car is ready for us downstairs,” Dante says. Sebastian looks at him and nods.
“Carter, go get the low life scum from the basement. He is coming with us,” Sebastian says, and I raise my eyebrows. Carter walks off, a man now on a mission.
“Dante, get the women and children into lockdown.” Sebastian continues giving orders, and Dante runs out the door.
“Nico?” Sebastian says, looking at me.
“Let’s go get my family.” The need to have her with me now overwhelming.
“Let’s go getourfamily,” Sebastian corrects me, as his hand comes up and grips my shoulder.
I nod to him, as his other hand grips the back of my neck and he pulls me close. Hugging me, he whispers, “You’re going to be a great father.”
And it is in this moment, I know if needed, I will hand over my life for hers.
39
EMILIA
My head is pounding, and as I rub my forehead, my cheek throbs with pain.Did I sleep on the floor again?Because I can’t remember my body aching this much before.
Opening and closing my mouth, my lips are cracked a little, and my throat parched.Do I have a hangover?As I come to, the need to vomit begins to swirl in my stomach, the morning sickness still present.
I hear a deep thrumming, and as I yawn, I slowly open my eyes. I see white leather seats. I try to move now, realizing I am not lying in my bed, but I am being held tight. I start to panic as my memories come back to me. Being taken. Put in a car. That is all I remember.
“Sleeping beauty is awake.” A man’s deep voice penetrates the white noise of the aircraft engine. My head whips around, and I see him sitting across the aisle, watching me.
He took me. I’m on a plane!
My hand touches my cheek where I remember his slap. It then runs down, and I place it protectively on my stomach.
“I gave you a sedative. It won’t hurt the baby,” he says, and my eyes widen.
How does he know?
As my body begins to shake in terror, I try to slow my breathing, wanting to keep my stress low. I have no idea what is going on, but I know for the sake of my baby, I need to remain as calm as possible.
“Mr. Moreau, we are making our descent now,” a woman dressed as an airline stewardess says to the man, ignoring me completely. He nods at her without saying a word, and she continues farther down the aisle and sits, fastening her seatbelt.
Instinctively, I check my seatbelt is low and tight. The man, however, remains unmoved. He has one leg crossed over his knee. He rests his elbow on the armrest, his chin in his hand, his eyes focused on me only. He looks at me quizzically, like he is trying to figure something out.
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice croaky from lack of use, and I internally kick myself for sounding so weak.
