Page 20 of Fallen Legacy

It’s seven in the morning on Monday when Archer drops me back at the Silver mansion. I didn’t tell him I was staying here; he, of course, knew where I was staying. The car journey has left me feeling a little offside. This stomach bug is still hanging over me a little bit.

As we pull up, the front door opens and Damon leans against the doorframe, watching as we both climb out of the car. Archer hands me my school bag and my phone. He nods his head briefly at Silver as he climbs back in his car and peels off down the drive.

“How was it?” he asks me as he steps aside and holds the door open for me.

“How do you think? He kidnapped me, you know?” I tell him, pointing down the drive. “That arsehole drugged me and put me on a plane.”

“I know, princess.”

I blink in surprise and do a one-eighty, turning round to face him. “You knew!”

“Not beforehand,” he says, holding up his hands in defence. “He texted me to say you were safe, that he’d used gentle persuasion to whisk you away somewhere remote where the two of you could talk.”

Hands on my hips, I blow out my cheeks. “Gentle persuasion. He drugged me and took me by force to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Sixty-four hours! I had to put up with him parading around with those perfect abs on display, having him cook for me and run me baths.”

Silver chuckles. “Sounds like hell. I’m sure most of the girls at school would see that as a horrific way to spend the weekend.”

I’m about to tell him to shut it when my stomach rolls and I cover my mouth with my hand. “I’m going to vomit.” It comes with no warning, and I lean over a bowl on the console table beside the front door and I empty the contents of my stomach into it. “Ugh, that came from nowhere. Damn, I haven’t been sick for a whole forty-eight hours, too.”

Damon grimaces, looking from me to the bowl. “My car keys are in that bowl.”

“Oops. My bad.” I wince, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I think this bug is still lingering in my system,” I offer in explanation as I pick up the bowl and head through the house to the downstairs loo. Holding the bowl over the toilet, I stick my hand in and pull out his car keys that are dripping with the contents of my breakfast and I throw them into the sink. I soap up my hands and wash the vomit away. If I wet his keys, will they still work?

“Are you pregnant?”

I almost drop the bowl as I catch his eyes in the mirror's reflection. “Pregnant. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Damon pops his shoulder. “You sure? Because I’ve watched my sister go through terrible morning sickness and this ‘bug,’” he says using air quotes, “looks a lot like morning sickness to me.”

I shake my head, ready to tell him his theory is ridiculous, but then I stop and think. When was I due on? I pull out my phone and open my period tracker app, and I inhale a sharp breath. No. It isn’t possible.

“You’re late,” he states rather than asks.

I stand there frozen to the spot. This can’t be happening.

“I think you should sit down. You’ve gone awfully pale,” Damon suggests. He flushes the toilet and closes the lid. He guides me to sit down on the toilet.

“I don’t understand. How can this have happened?”

Damon cocks a brow at me. “I think you know how babies are made, princess.”

I frown at him and shake my head. “Humour is not helping, Damon. I’m on the pill. I take it religiously every day. I’m just late. I can’t be pregnant.” I’m not sure who I am trying to convince, him or me.

“How late are we talking?”

Running a hand through my hair and chewing on my bottom lip, I look up at him. “Two fucking weeks. I’m never this late.”

“Well, come on,” he says, offering me his hand. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I look up at his open palm. “I can’t just stroll into a chemist in the bay and buy a test, Damon. It’ll get back to Wilbur in minutes.”

Damon nods his head. “You’re right. I’ll go. You stay here.”

“Damon,” I shout out, causing him to pause at the door. “Buy like five or six.”

When he’s gone, I freak the fuck out. I pace up and down the living room. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!” I shout out, cupping the back of my neck in my hands and praying to God that this is a false alarm. I cannot be pregnant with Archer’s baby.

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