Page 72 of Carnal Urges
“What’s this?”
“A cell phone.”
“You have no idea how much I’d like to put out that cigarette on your eyeball.”
“Yourcell phone, lass. The one I gave you that has my number programmed in.”
I take it from him, suddenly unsure. “Why are you giving this to me?”
There’s an odd pause. He glances away. “You never know when you might need to hurl scathing insults at someone. Might as well be me. Considering you’re so good at it.”
I peer at him through the shadows. There’s something strange in his voice. Something that’s making my heart trip all over itself.
“Who’s waiting for me on the other side of that bridge, Declan?”
He smokes. Tilts his head back and blows perfect smoke rings into the air. His silence is infuriating.
“Answer me, dammit.”
As if on cue, the driver’s door of the other car opens. Someone gets out and lifts a hand over their eyes, shading it from the SUV’s headlights, and I’m introduced for the second time in five minutes to a skill I never knew I had: identifying people solely by their silhouette.
“Stavros?” I whisper in horror. I whirl on Declan and demand, “You calledStavrosto pick me up? Isn’t he yourenemy?”
Gazing at me with those unreadable eyes, he says, “The word has gained a new flexibility for me of late. And who better than the father of your child to rescue you from the nightmare you’ve been living?”
The father of your child.
Oh my god. He left the hospital without talking to the doctor about my other test results. He doesn’t know about the IgA.
He doesn’t know I’m not pregnant.
I can’t recall the last time I was this angry. Honestly, I think I never have been.
I step toward him, shaking all over. “You arrogant, idiotic man. You think you know what’s best for everyone, but you don’t even know what’s best for yourself.”
He’s frowning at me. Scowling, actually. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you being so sure of your own infallibility that you’re blind. But here’s something I’ll leave you with. I haven’t been with Stavros since the beginning of January. We’re almost in March now. What makes you think I haven’t been with anyone else in between?”
He falls so still, he’s not even breathing. His lips part. He stares at me, shock registering all over his face.
I say softly, “You might want to verify the identity of the baby daddy the next time you decide to play matchmaker, gangster. See you around.”
I turn and run away as fast as I can, telling myself as I get closer to where Stavros waits for me that the water in my eyes and the pain in my chest have everything to do with overwhelming relief and nothing at all to do with the man I’m leaving behind me.
TWENTY-ONE
SLOANE
On the drive to the private jet terminal at the airport, Stavros is silent, but he holds my hand.
I let him. I think it’s because once the anger drained away, I was left numb.
Numb is better than angry. Numb doesn’t demand answers. Numb is a welcome relief from too many intense emotions.
Numb is my new best friend.
As soon as we’re on his jet and the airstairs fold up behind us, Stavros turns and grabs me in a crushing bear hug. He whispers the pet name that used to drive me up a wall:mamochka. Then he sinks to his knees and buries his face between my thighs.
