Page 30 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

“Say it’s because you’re pregnant.”

“They wouldn’t believe it,” I insist. “I’ve never taken so much time off before. You’ll start to get questions from the board, and you know how the board can get. And it’s better for me. It’s something familiar. Better for the baby,” I tack on.

Like all members of a criminal organization, they can get intense. I’ve been thinking about it since the day I told Nathan I was pregnant. I need people to see me, and I need them to be Capulet people.

Nathan doesn’t say anything for a long time.

Then:

“All right. You can go back next week. You can work from my office so I can keep an eye on you.

I nod, trying to suppress the shriek of glee that wants to escape me.

“But if anything happens with the baby,” he adds quickly, “you’re done.”

“Oh, agreed.”

When the nurse comes to call me back he grabs for my hand. “Good morning, Avery. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I say automatically.

“We’ll be in room seven. And, of course, we need you in the bathroom to start. Dad, you can wait in the exam room.”

Nathan reluctantly lets go of my hand. He wasn’t expecting this. He thought he’d be able to keep an eye on me at all times. But he’s smart enough to know that making a scene in the OB’s office will get him tagged as a potentially violent partner, and then he’ll have to contend with people paying close attention to him. He follows her into room seven but keeps his eyes on mine until the last possible moment. The message in his dark eyes is clear.Follow orders.

The nurse, Claudia, leads me around the circular office to the bathroom and explains the urine test and how they’ll do a blood draw when I’m back in the room. And then she leaves me blessedly alone.

I have never pissed faster than I do in that bathroom, shoving the cup with my name onto the small metal shelf.

This side of the OB’s office is empty. Not everyone in Verona can afford to come here, which is the other thing working in my benefit.Pretend you’re going into the wrong room. I put a preoccupied look on my face and slip into the nearest exam room. A tray covered in a folded medical drape earns me one scalpel. I smile. And then I go in search of the doctor.

I find him at a desk built into the wall a few feet down. Lucky guy. He can come to the empty part of the office and fill out his paperwork while the nurses take on the bulk of the appointments. While he takes it easy and pops into appointments to shove his hand up the odd vagina and make sure he shows his face long enough to charge his extortionate fees.

“Dr. Hollis.” I don’t give him a chance to turn before I press the scalpel into the side of his neck. He freezes in his seat, hands on his keyboard. The backsplash of the desk is gleaming stainless steel. We both look at our funhouse reflection in that metal.

“Avery.” He keeps his voice even. “What the hell are you doing?”

“The baby is only two weeks along,” I say slowly. “Do you understand me? No matter what that ultrasound says, it’s only been two weeks since it was conceived. If you say anything else, if you even hint that the fetus looks older in any way, then I’ll arrange for everyone you love in the world to die.” It’s not my favorite thing, threatening this man’s life. He’s the one who delivered me, pink and screaming, twenty-five years ago. He’s the one who ordered my father out of the room and leveled with me about birth control. He’s dealt with my yearly pap smear and at least three UTIs over the course of our doctor-patient relationship. I swallow a lump in my throat. “I’m really sorry, Dr. Hollis, but my life is on the line. And my baby’s. You’d better play along, or we’re all in danger.”

“Okay. Okay. Jesus.” I take the scalpel away and drop it onto the floor. His shoulders sag and he lets out a long breath. And then, bless him, he clears his throat. “No, you’re in room seven, Avery,” he says, a touch too loud, but whatever. “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“Oops,” I play my part, smiling at him. “Baby brain sets in early.”

Please let Nathan not be watching. Please let him have stayed in that room, chatting with the nurse.The skin all down my back pulls into goosebumps and I turn away from Dr. Hollis with a dawning horror. The circular layout of this office, with its lab in the center and the rooms around the outside ring, always seemed normal to me. I’ve never gone to another OB-GYN. But now there are too many hallways. Going around each curve makes me want to scream.

But I find Nathan where the nurse left him, on a low bench next to the room’s window. He waves a pamphlet at me. “They do tummy tuck consultations here, too. Something to think about for after the birth.” He gives me an exaggerated wink.

“Yeah. Maybe you should have one. You already look like you’re gaining sympathy weight.”

This is a cruel joke. Nathan is as lean as he’s ever been, and I’m verging on skeletal. I still haven’t put back on the weight I lost in captivity. How could I? It’s hard to have a robust appetite when you’re living with a psychopath. And either Nathan hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. Yet.

The nurse bustles back in. “Okay, Avery. Let’s go through a few items on our checklist.”

The paper on the table crinkles when I perch on the edge and answer her questions. The approximate date of my last fictional period. Whether I smoke or drink. Whether I have a family history of pregnancy issues, like gestational diabetes. She does not mention my mother’s stillborn child, which is common knowledge in the office. Nathan watches all of it with an over-the-top concentration. And then Claudia pats the folded sheet on the counter next to her.

“Underthings off, Avery. You can leave your socks and everything on top.”

“Underthings?” My lips go numb immediately, blood fleecing from my face. I try to put a smile on and fail. “Why underthings?”

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