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“Thank you, by the way, for coming to help us.”
“I did it for my brother. I had no idea about you.” His eyes narrow to beady slits when his phone rings again. “Hello? Yes, I’ll accept the charges.”
I sit up, realizing it must be Cormac calling from jail.
“No, I’m not bailing you out. I have Anastasia Koslov sitting next to me. I found her in a fucking prison jumpsuit, eight months pregnant with your baby. She’s got no money. No phone. She’s not been to a doctor. What in fuck’s sake is wrong with you?”
Darragh holds the phone away, Cormac’s muffled yelling floating into the air.
“Are you done?” Darragh says calmly. “Do you have any idea what her father will do to our family if he finds out?”
He shakes his head as Cormac keeps shouting on the other end.
“Yell all you want, Cor. I have contacts in this city. You’re staying right where you are until I figure out what to do with Stasia.”
His eyes lift to me, and the corners wrinkle.
“Ana, whatever. Yeah, call home. See how that works out for you. See how fast Lachlan gets on Kieran’s plane to take you to the same camp they sent him to.”
He pauses to let Cormac vent some more.
“Oh… Oh, now you’re singing a different tune. I’ve done so much to help you, Cor. You fucked up. You were arrested for drugs and fraud. And from what I heard, they can add kidnapping or unlawful restraint charges.”
Darragh pinches his nose, listening to more of Cormac’s excuses, I assume.
“When I get home, I’ll call a law firm and get you a good attorney, but that’s it. Have a nice weekend.” He ends the call and brings the phone up to his forehead.
Our eyes meet as Darragh’s anger simmers down.
“Sorry,” he says softly, like he just got years of frustration off his chest.
We pull into a jet hanger, and he makes another call.
“Hi, it’s me. We’re getting on the plane to come home. I should be there in a few hours. Did you get the cupcake mix? Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Darragh sneaks a look at me under his golden lashes, his cheeks blushing.
“No, you don’t have to stay over,” he continues. “If you can just get her bathed and do bedtime. You can leave when I get there. What? No, you don’t have to come to Sophie’s party with us tomorrow. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Darragh ends the call and pushes a hand through his thick hair.
“Girlfriend?”
“I’m married.” He pops me a glance like I have ten heads.
“Oh, right.” I never got that full story.
“But she’s in Africa. Red Cross. That was the nanny.”
The limo door opens, and Darragh leads me onto the plane.
I feel so utterly helpless again. I’ve been pulled out of one spiderweb only to get stuck inside another one.
“We’re wheels up in ten minutes, sir.” The captain looks at me then sputters, “Sir, a woman that pregnant can’t fly.”
“That’s a myth,” Darragh argues, like he’s insulted. “I’m a doctor. I’ll take responsibility.”
I hold my breath, thinking if I protest, the captain won’t take off with me on the plane.
