With a contract being out for her life, more than one I’m sure, I knew I had to work fast. The Donald family does not mess around, they always hire professionals to do their dirty work. When they don’t receive confirmation from me that the job is completed, they’ll look to the next to do so. The mere thought of this beautiful woman being on anyone's hit list, mine included, has rage boiling inside me.
According to my research, she has no red flags, on paper at least. This woman is smart, was a great student, graduating with honors, whose parents are deceased. I didn’t uncover a connection that would explain why Ernest wants her dead, so that part is still a mystery.
Poppy stirs in her sleep, coming out of the nap I’d essentially forced on her. Standing, I double-check the windows and door before going to her side, assuming she'll try to make a break for it. I've already decided I'm not finishing this job, yet the thought of her leaving hurts. I have no plan past the fact that she's staying with me.
She groans as she slowly sits up, hands moving to her temples to gently rub them. "Oh god, my head hurts." I want nothing more than to join her on the bed and comfort her, soothe her pain, but I remain where I am to give her space.
Trying to sound non-threatening, I urge her “take the pills next to the glass of water they’ll help”. My voice has her eyes widening, a scream escaping her as she scrambles to put more distance between us. I hate seeing the panic on her face, knowing I caused it, as she frantically glances around the room."I promise I won’t hurt you."
"Says the man who kidnapped me!” She responds which is a very valid point. “Where are we and what do you want?" I notice as she pats herself, no doubt searching for injuries, she pays special attention to her belly.
"You're uninjured,” I reassure her. “And the chemical I used is perfectly safe." That seems to ease her worries some as her gaze takes me in once more.
"You're the handsome stranger from the gallery."
I hide my smile as I ask, "You think I'm handsome?" I don't know why that part matters to me, just that it does.
Finding her courage, she rises, her expression angry as she demands “What the hell do you want from me?”
I have to admit, I like this feisty side of her. Not wanting to lie, I give her the truth and hope for the best. “I’m an assassin hired to take you out.”
Why would anyone want me dead?" Poppy asks in confusion.
I shrug, telling her I have no idea. “All I know is they consider you a threat.” I try to keep the disbelief from my tone, finding it difficult to believe of her, though I fail to do so.
"I could be if I wanted to,” she mumbles, apparently offended. I’m discovering it hard to hide a smile at her response, something I never do. And then she challenges me. "So, are you killing me or not?" she snaps.
“Not.” is all I say.
“You suck at your job,” she declares as she sits back down. “What’s the plan then?”
"They’ll send others when I don't confirm you're dead, which means you'll have hundreds of wet work agents on you within days." She clutches her stomach at my statement, then runs past me and into the hotel bathroom, slamming the door shut. I hear the water being turned on, followed immediately after by the unmistakable sounds of her getting sick. “Poppy,” I holler with concern as I bang on the door. “You okay?”
"Fucking perfect," she responds between heaves. I feel useless, wishing I could do something. As I can’t, I suggest she take a shower, hoping it’ll help. At the least, it’ll give her time to herself, which I’m sure she’s desperately wanting. When I hear her doing just that, I slip from the room, confidant Poppy is currently in no condition to make a run for it. Hitting the nearest store, I grab anything I think she’ll need, for once completely out of my depth as I guess about what that might be. When I return, I set the bags down and knock on the bathroom door. Since she might not be able to hear me, I try again, louder.
“If you don’t answer, I’m coming in to check on you,” I warn her. She tries to tell me she’s fine and will be out soon, but her voice is weak. Worried, I twist the knob, not surprised it’s locked. A few minutes later, having picked it, I step in and find her curled up in the shower, hugging her knees to her chest, crying. Seeing her so fragile breaks my heart, an organ many would doubt I owned. I slowly open the glass door and crouch in front of her from the outside of the shower.
“I got you some fresh clothes, and some food that will settle you.”
Her eyes are red and bottom lip quivers as she looks up at me. I hate that it’s aimed at me, though it’s understandable considering the situation. I promise that I’m only trying to make this easier and that I’m won’t her. When she nods, relief fills me.
"Can you hand me that robe then face the other way?" Doing so, I place it on the rack within her reach and add a towel next to it. My ears are highly tuned to her every movement, which is how I recognize that she needs me, her foot more than likely catching as she attempts to get out. Reflexively, I catch her, stifling the groan at feeling her naked wet body against me. I steady her, trying not to glance, but one part of her catches my attention. A small yet obvious baby bump.
"What. The. Fuck?" Poppy wraps herself in the towel.
“I’m pregnant, that’s why I wasn’t feeling well.” she confirms. Not sure what to do with this information I just leave the back room. Just seeing her had turned my world upside down, even more so in person, but now to discover she’s with child? I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do, but I can guarantee I will protect both of them from anyone that comes at them.
Chapter 3
Poppy
Surprisingly, I feel rested, having actually gotten some sleep last night. The sickness I’d felt at first had faded, the shock and stress wearing off as I realized he wasn’t going to hurt me. That in fact, he wanted to stop others from doing just that. Though I know discovering that I’m pregnant threw him for a loop. Join the club. The clothes he’d gotten for me fit better, which means there’s no covering my belly any longer. “What are you doing?” I ask. I’ve been staring at him, watching him work on his laptop for a while now.
His gaze doesn’t leave the screen, letting me know he was aware that I was awake and watching him this whole time. "Scrubbing your information." Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and want to know why. "To protect you," he says matter of fact. Now he looks up at me, his voice serious as he informs me, "We need to talk."
"Is work all you do?"
"No. If so, you'd be dead." Wait. Was that a joke? Standing, he walks to the mini-fridge, removes a bottle of orange juice, then hands it and a pill to me. When I ask what it is, I can’t help but smile when he responds, “Prenatal vitamin. Google says it’s essential for your condition.” Okay, that’s very sweet. I swing my legs, planting my feet on the floor, and take both. I thank him as he sits next to me. His weight causes the bed to dip a little, making me slide a little closer to him. Facing me, he gently states, “Want to tell me why a beautiful pregnant woman is on a hit list?” I take a whiff of his scent and find it intoxicating. What does he wear? Or is it him naturally?