Page 127 of The Devil's Pawn

I don’t hear the doctor’s detailed response, only a low rumble as he answers. I rip open the box, and yank down my jeans and panties.

“What’s my father got to do with it?”

I frown. Good question. Once more, the doctor is speaking too quietly for me to hear him. I will myself to pee.It’s harder to do it on command, but I manage enough to wet the stick.

“Oh, you can fucking bank on it,” Alexander hollers.

The room beyond the door falls silent. If Alexander’s punched him, I’d have heard that, right? I set the stick on the side of the sink, wipe myself, and pull up my underwear and fasten my jeans. After washing and drying my hands, I set the timer on my watch for three minutes. It’s the longest three minutes of my life.

The alarm sounds.

I pick up the stick.

My heart thunders in my chest, the noise of it echoing through my ears.

I go back into Alexander’s office. He’s standing by his desk. Doctor Carter is sitting down, or maybe his legs gave out. I can’t imagine Alexander being courteous enough to invite him to sit. I draw in a breath deep enough to burst my lungs.

Rip off the Band-Aid. Rip off… the Band-Aid.

“It’s positive.”

Chapter Forty-Three

ALEXANDER

The bottom falls out of my world, and the room tilts and spins. I grip the edge of my desk and wait for things to right themselves, except they won’t. They can’t. The one thing I promised myself I’d never do is happening to me, and I don’t understand how I got here. My mind is spinning plates, and no matter how hard I try to keep them up, they’re smashing all around me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Feeling out of control, as though things are happeningtome rather thanbyme, is a trigger point for me. My worst fucking nightmare, and I’m living it.

I grip the lapels on Carter’s jacket and yank him to me, my face inches from his. “How thefuckdid this happen? And if you say that I should talk to my father one more time, so help me God, I will throw you through the fucking window.”

“Alexander.” Imogen places her hand on my arm, but whereas her touch usually soothes me, I’m irritated this time. I thrust my arm in the air, shaking her off, and grab Carter once again.

“You have five fucking seconds to tell me how this happened, and I’d strongly advise you to steer away from the one-in-a-hundred bullshit. I’m aware of the odds, but this isn’t that. I fucking know it. I want answers, and you’re going to give them to me.”

Carter’s eyes bulge, and he looks from left to right as though he’s expecting someone to come and save him.

“Five,” I say.

He stays quiet.

“Four.”

Still nothing. I drag him closer to the window. “Three!” I bellow in his face. “Two. O?—”

“It was a placebo!” Carter yells. “Your father told me if you ever came to me and demanded I give your wife a contraceptive, I was to inject her with a placebo.”

Imogen wavers, pitching forward to rest her hands on the arm of the sofa. I let go of Carter so suddenly, he falls smack on his arse. When he tries to get up, I put my foot on his chest.

“You’re lying.” I’m not yelling now. My voice has taken on a deathly air, the tone I use right before I end a mark.

“I’m not. I swear, Alexander. Ask your father. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I remove my foot, crouch, and grab him around the neck. “But you did, Carter. You already lied to me. I know where your loyalties lie now, and they’re not with me. You know what happens to disloyal employees? They’re fucking gone.”

“Alexander.” Imogen’s voice is firmer now, demanding my attention. “Let him go.”

When I flex my fingers and Carter’s lips turn a shade of blue, his legs flailing, she drops into my sightline. “Let him go, baby. For me. It’snot his fault.”

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