“I’m so glad you believe me. I only have two more days left here before I have to find another place to stay.”
I don’t say a word until she’s collected her two bags and is seated beside me in the car.
“I would like to inform you that if you are indeed lying about the paternity of this child for the purpose of extorting money from my family that I will personally end any semblance of a life that you have, Miss Mallory.”
Her gasp gives me a short-lived spurt of satisfaction, and I thin my lips to keep from smiling.
“The doctor will be doing tests which will either confirm that you are lying or that the child you carry is a Stone. If you’re telling the truth, I will make arrangements for your care. If not, I will be setting my legal team on you and believe me, that you do not want.”
Those eerie lilac-blue eyes focus on me for the longest time before she turns her head away and stares out at the misty drizzle.
“I’m not lying, but then it doesn’t seem as if that will matter much until you have your proof. I had a decent life before your brother. I had a good job and a chance at the life I worked hard to get. He fooled me into believing something that wasn’t true and then left me to deal with the fall out.”
Her words are a shot of acid to the open wound in my chest, and I react poorly, pinching her chin between fingers that are too hard and too forceful against such delicate skin.
“You will never speak of him that way again. Understand? You are nothing more than a down-on-her-luck con artist, and when I prove it, I am going to make you eat those words. Now shut up. We have nothing to say to each other till I have my proof.”
If her wounded eyes tear the slightest bit, I refuse to notice, and if the dark circles under her eyes, coupled with the sunken hollows of her cheeks, make me feel like a brute attacking a weak, sickly female, I refuse to admit it.
All I know is that this woman has made my already grieving mother insane with grief over a child that likely isn’t one of ours. If that is the case, I will finish her.
Chapter Three
Shaw
It’s humiliating having to talk to the doctor about such private things like my period, vaginal discharge, and the sensitivity in my breasts. I’ve always been a super-private person, and I hate doctors with their feely hands and eagle eyes. But what’s making this experience worse, is the fact that Cameron Stone planted himself in a chair in the doctor’s office and refused to leave, his glare killing my protest halfway up my throat.
This, I will not back down on though.
The test they want to do is an invasive procedure. They’re going to stick a long freaking needle into my belly and take a “sample” from my baby. I don’t really have the right to care about the pain it’ll cause me,but what I will not do is risk my child—and I tell him so.
“No. You heard the doc. This is not a test to be taken lightly. It could hurt him. I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.”
“You will bloody do as I say or—”
“What? You can’t force me, and you know it.”
“You just don’t want the test because you’re a liar and a fraud.” He yells at me, standing to his feet to pace around the room in a jerky fit that reminds me of Robert to the point of madness.
The words hurt, and I have to fight down the bile rising in my throat when he turns back to me and curses loudly.
“This is not helping your case, Miss Mallory.”
I know, and it makes me second-guess the instinctive need to protect the tiny life growing in my womb, but I can’t. I just can’t do anything to hurt him or her, and he needs to know that.
“If Robert is truly gone—”
“Why would I lie? The story was front-page news across the globe. His plane went down somewhere over Europe, with not only Robert, but also a very influential politician’s daughter on board. My brother is no longer with us, Miss Mallory, so if you’re thinking that you can use my mother’s grief to get your hands on our money, think again.”
I hold my tongue and look over at the doctor, feeling even worse when I see the pity in his eyes. I knew the moment I contacted Cameron Stone that I would have a fight on my hands and that he wouldn’t believe me without proof.
I’d steeled myself for this reaction and sworn that no matter how badly things went that I would swallow it all to ensure that my baby has everything he needs.
I want to throw his words back in his face and tell him that I don’t want a goddamned thing, but I know I can’t. I’d be lying. I do want his money. I need it to keep myself off the cold, unforgiving streets, and I need it to ensure that I can start looking for a job so that when my baby does get here, I can tell them all to go to hell and leave me alone.
The baby is not ideal, I’ll admit that, but I will never treat my kid the way my mom had treated Al and I after my dad took off. I will love him and protect him and make him feel safe every minute of every day.
I just need his cold-hearted uncle to fork over enough money to live first.
“You can keep screaming at me all day, and it won’t make a difference. I will not do this. Accept it, and let’s move on. Please.”
He curses and stalks out, leaving me to follow behind at a dead run that makes my stomach heave violently. When I get to the car, he stands aside, his jaw ticking, and waits for me to get in.
“You will, of course, be coming home with me until the child is born and tested.”
“Okay,” I say quickly, peeking up at him only to look away quickly when he gives me a look that dares me to say anything.
“You look awful—though I can’t say if that’s your natural state or if it’s the pregnancy.”
I squirm when he leans forward and sniffs at me, cringing at the fact that I don’t smell my best. The showers at the shelter are crowded, and we’re only allowed to shower at night. I’d missed mine last night, and by the time I got to take one, the water was so cold I couldn’t force myself to do it.
I already have a cold that won’t quit, and I’m terrified that the baby will get sick in there, too.
“You will, of course, avail yourself of the shower on the jet if you don’t mind. Do you have a passport?”
I’m floored at the mention of a jet and only a little aware that I’m shaking my head when we stop and a private jet registers.
“Bloody hell. That’s fine. I’ll sort something out. Come.”
“But…where are we going?” I squeak, digging my heels in when he takes my arm and starts dragging me behind him.
“Home. England. The place where my family resides,” he barks, giving me a tug that’s bound to bruise my arm.
“But, I can’t go…”
“Would you prefer I leave you here and come back in six months, Miss Mallory?”
I feel my shoulders slump in defeat and battle the tears misting my eyes. I can’t let him leave without me. I have nowhere to go, and in two days, I will be on the streets with winter fast approaching.
“No.”
“As I thought,” he says darkly, his mouth twisting in a sneer. “Don’t worry. You’ll be living in the lap of luxury soon enough. That should more than alleviate your fears. At the very least, we can do something about the pathetic state you’re in right now.”