Page 125 of The Devil's Pawn

IMOGEN

The sound of rain battering the panes of glass wakes me. It’s light out, but the clouds overhead make it seem as though it’s dusk rather than dawn. As comfortable as I am snuggled against Alexander’s broad chest, my bladder is fit to burst.

I peel his arm from around my waist and slide out of bed. Every part of me aches. Alexander wasn’t joking when he told me he planned to play with me for hours. Not that I’m complaining. Only an idiot would grumble about five orgasms.

Leaving the bathroom light off, I swipe my hand beneath the mirror, and it illuminates. It’s more than enough to see where I’m going. I use the toilet and wash my hands. They feel a little dry, so I open the cabinet and reach for the hand cream when my gaze falls upon the unopened pack of tampons.

A second later, my stomach drops. I grasp the sides of the sink as the room spins, hanging on so tightly that my knuckles whiten. It can’t be. It… it can’t. I’m not due another shot for almost two weeks. I quickly do the math in my head. Myperiod was due four days ago. I’m late. I’m never late. I’m one of the lucky ones. Ever since my first period at thirteen, I’ve been regular as clockwork and suffer few side effects, such as sore boobs and stomach cramps. Even with the contraceptive shot I still had periods. Yet now… nothing.

Nausea fills my stomach. I lean over the sink and splash my face with cold water. If I am pregnant, what does that mean? How can the contraceptive have failed? I thought they were close to foolproof.

My legs wobble as I tiptoe back into the bedroom. Alexander is still fast asleep, his arm thrown over my side of the bed as if his subconscious thinks I’m still there.

I grab my cell and type my question into the search engine. The answer I get doesn’t make me feel any better. The contraceptive shot Alexander’s doctor gave me is ninety-nine percent effective. That means one person in every one hundred will get knocked up while thinking they’re safe.

Just my luck to be the one in one hundred.

Although, I could be getting ahead of myself. I’ve been through a lot these past three months. Maybe my body is adjusting and I’m not pregnant after all. My period wasn’t late last month, nor the month before, but that doesn’t mean anything. Itdoesn’t.

Sinking onto the mattress before my legs give way, I press my palm to my stomach. If I am pregnant, what will that mean for Alexander and me? While I don’t agree with his reasoning, his fear of having children is real to him, therefore, it’s something I respect. If I have to choose though…

The thought of termination is deeply disturbing—a dark shadow that creeps from the recesses of my mind and threatens to choke me. I’m all for a woman’s right to choose, but that isn’t a choice I can make for myself. If Alexanderasks me to pick him or the baby, then it’s something I don’t even need to think about, although my heart will break in two at losing him.

You’re getting way ahead of yourself.

The first thing I need to do is get a test, but that creates a problem in itself. I can’t leave Oakleigh without Alexander knowing, and even if I could, I don’t want to lie to him about where I’m going. Iwon’tlie. When he wakes up, I’ll?—

“What’s wrong?”

I glance over my shoulder, making sure I’ve a smile in place. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

He doesn’t return my smile. “I asked what was wrong. Stop deflecting.”

My stomach tilts at how easily he finds it to read me. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t. He’d see right through me in a heartbeat.

Twisting on the bed, I cross my legs and knit my hands together. “I’m late.”

His brow furrows. “Late for what? I wasn’t aware you had somewhere to be.”

I give a slight shake of my head, my teeth biting into my lip. “My period is late.”

Every drop of blood drains from Alexander’s face until he’s whiter than I’ve ever seen him. A muscle quivers in his cheek, and he blinks at least ten times in succession. “Is that out of the ordinary?”

There’s no glossing over the facts. “Yes. I’m never late.”

“So, you’re…?” His eyes drop to my abdomen. “You might be…”

“Pregnant. Yes.”

He shoots up and out of bed like a starting gun went off. He paces the length of the room several times. In anyother circumstance it would be funny to watch him, buck naked, dick swinging as he marches up and down, with his hands on his hips. But there’s nothing remotely funny about the situation we now find ourselves in.

Storming back to the bed, he snatches his phone off the nightstand and stabs at the screen.

“Who are you calling?”

“Carter. I want fucking answers.”

I quash the idiotic shred of hope I’d had that he’d pull me into his arms and tell me it’ll all be okay and leave him barking at the unfortunate Doctor Carter while I get dressed. No doubt he’ll have the doctor come here to do a pregnancy test, so we know if there’s anything to worry about or if I am, for the first time in my life, having a late period.

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