Page 169 of Nine Months to Love
“I got a story. I don’t know if it’s the truth.”
“What do you want to do with her?”
I pause. The smart thing would be to kill her. Eliminate the threat and move on. But something stops me. I’m still not quite sure what it is.
“Keep her locked up,” I say finally. “I’ll decide later.”
Taras nods. “You want a drink?”
“Yeah. I want a very big fucking drink.”
We walk to my office. He pours two glasses of scotch and hands me one. I down it in one gulp and pour another.
“You okay?” he asks.
“No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He sits down across from me and lights a cigarette. “Suit yourself.”
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. The ultrasound photo is still in my pocket. I pull it out and stare at it.
A daughter.
I need to protect her. And the only way to do that is to end all of this shit. But first, I need to figure out who I can trust.
And right now, that list is very, very short.
47
OLIVIA
I’m still standing outside Elena’s hospital room after talking over the doctors doing evening rounds when I hear the clatter of heels on the floor. That particular rhythm—sharp, precise, painfully impatient—can only belong to one person.
“Olivia!”
I turn and, sure enough, it’s her. My mother strides down the corridor like she owns the place. Her white coat is crisp, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her lipstick the exact shade of arterial blood.
“Mom.”
“What are you doing lurking in the hallway? Is Elena awake?”
“She’s sleeping. The nurses just gave her pain meds.”
“Ah.” Margaret stops beside me and peers through the window into Elena’s room. “Poor dear. Such a terrible thing to happen.”
I bite my tongue. If she only knew how much of this was my fault.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, turning back to me. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Have you been eating enough? Sleeping enough?”
“Yes, Mom.”
