Page 220 of The Catalyst

Good. He should be afraid. When our deal is over, Ollie and I are going to hunt him down like the beast he is, no matter how many Bastard rules we have to break.

“And…the child was his?”

“Yes. A paternity test confirmed it.”

He nods and stares off into space. I wonder what he’s thinking or what he might be planning, but the room stays silent for so long I wonder if I could slip away unnoticed.

“I’m going to set you and my nephew up in an apartment in a much better area. All bills paid, including groceries. You’ll be comfortable.”

His offer feels like a payoff, like hush money. “Do you seriously think an apartment can repay what you stole from us?” I jump up in anger. Luckily, his walls are soundproof, or he might be just as angry as me. On the contrary, he seems stricken. “My child may not have been planned, but they weremine,not some offspring predetermined by some contract. That baby was my choice to keep growing inside me, not some obligation. How can you be so goddamn heartless?” I laugh, completely lacking the humor in it. “That’s right. You don’t have one.”

He turns to me, barely able to meet my eyes. “You’re right, Miss Mercer. I don’t have a heart. What I have is a stone block in my chest that barely beats at all, but if I did have one, it would’ve broken for what I had to do to you. You left me with no choice. Granted, I could’ve handled the situation with more finesse and less brutality, but the results would’ve been similar. You still would’ve lost your child, and you would still hate me for it. If you want to blame anyone for what happened, blame yourself. You knew you were pregnant when you came here to strike a deal with me to save your precious boyfriend. If you had been honest from the start, I would’ve told you that you would need to choose between your unborn child or the man you loved. Given the incredible amount of maternal instincts you have shown, I bet you would’ve chosen that child, and you and my nephew could’ve walked off into the sunset with your little family intact.” I wince from his words, and his knuckles drag down my cheek in a way that fills my veins with ice. “No good comes from living in the past, Bethany. We can go round and round about this, but the truth remains. Your child is dead, Mr. O’Reilly is free, and you belong to my family for the next twelve years. The apartment isn’t a bribe. It’s a way to make sure you’re safe and can sleep easily in your space. It’s non-negotiable. There’s also a car in the garage with your name on it.” His hand drops, and he adjusts his cufflinks.

I may have joked about Nolan giving me a car in the back of my mind at one point, but I didn’t think he would do it, and the thought of getting behind the wheel makes my stomach flip.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of sick joke?” Why the hell would he give me a car when I haven’t driven since the accident? That’s been by choice. I’m too scared to get behind the wheel. Anytime I think about it, all I can hear is the crunch of metal, and all I can see is the gravel of the creek staring back at me, taunting me to join it like it did that day. Then, I’m brought back by remembering Ollie saving me and his words to me.

This world isn’t worth being in if you’re not here.

Oliver Doyle is the thing that always grounds me. Sometimes, it's just as simple as something he said in passing one time that I remember.

“Not in the slightest. I’ll take you to it,” he offers.

“I’m not driving it.”

“Miss Mercer,” he growls in displeasure.

“No! I’m not driving, period. I haven’t driven since I hung off a bridge in that accident, the same way my father died, so no. I’m not driving whatever car you purchased for me. I can get in one just fine, but I will not drive one.”

The room is dead still for a while before he…concedes. “If it makes you more comfortable, I can arrange for you to have a chauffeur at the apartment so you don’t have to get behind the wheel. Would that be satisfactory?”

A compromise. Nolan is always such a brick wall. He never gives anyone wiggle room, so it’s only right that I meet him halfway.

“Thank you.”

He nods and leans in, but before he can do something repulsive, like try to kiss me, I turn on my heels and head back to the couch.

“Is that all?” I ask, grabbing my clutch from the cushion.

“Cora needs you to go house hunting with her sometime next week,” he offers.

I don’t answer outside of a curt bob of my head. What could I possibly say to that? No? That word usually doesn’t go over well with him. I won one battle, but the war is not over.

“My schedule is wide open. You can have her text me the details,” I mutter after a malignant silence drones on. “Goodnight, Mr. Gray.”

“Bethany, wait.” I stall at the door, facing the thick roadblock to my freedom.

“Yes?”

Next thing I know, he pulls my hair over my shoulder, and I shudder as his finger runs along the column of my neck. “About the future heirs of this family,” he starts, his voice deep and gruff, so unlike him.

“What about them?” I ask, and his other hand grips my waist in his strong fingers.

My stomach rolls when he presses his pelvis against my ass and grinds against me. “Would you be completely against them being mine?”

Barf.

“Unless done via IVF, my answer will be yes. That answer won’t ever change, so get that idea out of your head. I would never fuck the man who killed my baby. Don’t you have a mistress who can fulfill all those unholy desires?” I ask, barely holding in the small amount of food I consumed tonight.

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