Page 92 of Brutal King

“I’ll call the doc tomorrow. He’ll come and patch me up.”

“Declan really put up a fight, huh?”

“It wasn’t just him.” I touch her now too, savoring the softness of her cheek. “Luca was there.”

Her eyes snap to mine and fill with horror. “Oh God. Please. Please tell me he’s all right.”

That sinking defeat returns, but I don’t let her see it. “I promised you.”

My assurance doesn’t seem to make a difference. Her skin suddenly pale, she shoves away from me, her palm over her mouth. She runs to the kitchen, and I give chase.

“Sofia. He’s fine. I didn’t know he’d be there. I swear it.”

If she hears any of it, she doesn’t stop. Instead, she goes to the sink and doubles over, heaving into it.

A moment later, she’s falling to the floor. Unconscious.

23

SOFIA

“Shit. Shit! Sofia. Fuck!”

I’m vaguely aware of being carried. I open my eyes and lift my head. “Wha-What happened?”

“You fainted. Fuck!” He’s breathless, frantic as he takes me to the couch. “Are you all right? Do you feel all right?”

Of course I don’t feel all right! I just vomited and fainted. But given his green complexion, I’m afraidhe’llpass out if I tell him. “I’m fine. Must have been something I ate.”

He tugs out his phone and dials someone. “I’m having Dr. Montaigne come anyway. Fuck! Doc, it’s Gideon. I need you at the manor now.” Gideon tells the doctor about my incident, then listens to whatever is being said, his brows tightly pinched.

Meanwhile, I swallow down the bile threatening to make another appearance. Maybe it’s for the best that I’ll finally be seen. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this nausea.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Montaigne arrives. Every criminal organization has a doctor that makes house calls. There’s no way around that when you need the utmost discretion. Pops had three. All loyal to him and willing to take his secrets to the grave.

Dr. Montaigne is Gideon’s trusted physician, and from what I understand, he’s been for a while. He wouldn’t have trusted him to come in to take care of me otherwise.

So, it surprises me when he tilts his head and studies me over his small readers and says, “If you don’t want me to tell him, I won’t. But… you won’t be able to hide it for long.”

“I know.”

“Was this consensual?”

“Yes.” I’m now lying on Gideon’s bed. I try to sit, but the moment I’m upright, the world spins and I heave. “Jesus, help me.”

The doctor hands me the garbage can, but all I produce is a small amount of thick foam. When I’m done, I fall back onto the pillow, exhausted and oddly enough, hungry.

“I’m dying,” I say.

“It will pass.”

I glance over to the doors. From underneath, I can make out Gideon’s frantic pacing. “Can you give him something to calm him?” I ask Dr. Montaigne. “He’s making me anxious. And I’ve already been so on edge since I realized…” God, I can’t even finish that sentence.

“I already offered to, but he refuses. He’s hardheaded.” He sighs as he jots down a few notes. “All right. I’m going to prescribe you something for the nausea. I don’t generally carry that with me, as you might have guessed, this is quite unusual. But I’ll bring it later today. Then you can hopefully keep some food down.”

“Thank you.”

“As for the pregnancy. If you should not wish to continue with it, I can?—”

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