His Pretty Little Burden: Chapter 5

WAKING up to the lavishly soft sheets surrounding me is like arising from a place on a cloud. Still, with my eyes shut, I focus on my toes, curling them, feeling them caress the blankets. Then I concentrate on my fingers, gliding across the mattress. Fuck me, this is how the other half lives.

Touching my lower stomach, I chuckle and shake my head. This kid could grow up in this world, and for the first time since the strip turned pink, I’m excited for the life inside me. Yeah, it won’t know me, but it will be in sheets as soft as clouds, eating cake that tastes like the gods made it.

‘Good morning,’ I say to no one in particular before seeing Jasmine is already up and pulling her clothes on.

Immediately, a knock at the door causes me to sit up and grip the sheets high under my neck, concealing my underwear.

‘Morning,’ she chirps. ‘Don’t worry, that’s just Bolton. He’s waiting for us.’

I sit up straighter, saying, ‘For us to do what?’

‘To head to room twenty-four.’

If I didn’t already grasp the size of this house, the mention of a room referred to by a numeral—like in a hotel—really cemented that reality.

I get dressed quickly, cringing as I slide on day-old clothes before following Jasmine and Henchman Jeeves through the warren of halls and parlours. We pass too many henchmen to count; they seemingly become part of the furniture, like tall sturdy hat racks with bullet-proof vests and handguns instead of… well, hats.

Do politicians have this many henchmen?

No, this all screams organised crime to me.

The house seems to have a U-shaped footprint, with one side—the side my room is in—used minimally, whereas the other side is busy with staff. I scan the open-plan living area, my brows drawing in, seeing no sign of actual living. This mansion could be a movie set, not a cushion out of place. No sign anyone has ever sat on the cream-coloured leather sofas.

As I turn a corner, the French doors and entrance to the pool come into view. Through the glass windows, I can see two guys in their twenties working in the gardens. They both look up as I pass, and I offer them a small smile before trailing Henchman Jeeves and Jasmine into a room at the rear.

My feet grip the tiles as we enter, bringing me to a complete stop. The sight of one of those high hospital-style beds, two women I don’t know, an older man in his late fifties perhaps, and … Clay Butcher in all his intimidating glory, throw those damn butterflies straight back into my stomach, fighting for room around the growing human. I step backwards and hit a body—Henchman Jeeves.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ a pretty woman with shiny near-obsidian hair says as she switches on the monitor. ‘I’m Dr Adel. You can call me Shoshanna. We just want to check on the baby. Slide up here, Fawn.’

Still not moving…

The other woman approaches, glancing at Jasmine and Henchman Jeeves, saying, ‘You can leave.’ She places her hand on my shoulder. I peer up at her. She is at least half a foot taller than me. The way she carries herself, the commanding yet charismatic cadence to her voice, screams this is the lady of the house—Mrs Butcher. ‘I’m Aurora. Come, Fawn. Have you seen the child yet?’

A breath escapes me as she leads me further into the room. I get that they need to make sure I’m not full of shit, and actually, full of, well, a baby. But this is a lot. I’m not a monkey! Not an exhibition. But my rebuttal is frozen on my tongue.

Pick your battles, Fawn.

Deciding this isn’t one; I pretend there aren’t so many spectators and avoid looking at them. ‘No,’ I finally answer. ‘I just did the strip test from the chemist.’

She smiles softly as I climb onto the mattress; it is hard and shakes slightly as I mount it. ‘Well, let’s take a look. This is Clay’s father, Luca Butcher. He’s a very close acquaintance of your father’s and will personally see that the news of your arrival gets into the right hands.’

An acquaintance? ‘You know my father?’ I ask, eyeing him as I lie back on the bed. Shoshanna hovers over me. She pulls my shirt up to reveal the small mound—barely even noticeable yet—at my lower stomach, basically merely taut skin stretched from one hip to the other.

Luca nods once, folding his arms over his chest, the thickness of his biceps bulging beneath his hands. ‘For a very long time.’

He looks scary as shit.

If not for the powerful gaze and expensive black suit, he could easily be a henchman. The scars across his face and undeniable bend in his nose are enough to warn most people with any sense of caution.

I wriggle around as Shoshanna tucks my shirt into my bra, my fingers finding the ends of my hair, twisting them around each digit. She squeezes a blob of cool gel on the centre of my stomach, causing me to shuffle more.

‘Fawn, lay still.’ The distinct timbre of Clay Butcher freezes my spine, my body instantly doing as he commands. I didn’t give it permission to do that. Heat rises the length of my neck, prickling along the skin, vines of nervousness reaching for my cheeks.

I look up at the monitor, realising it’s been turned to face Luca and Clay.

Of course.

This isn’t for me.

This is because they don’t trust me.

The screen covers the lower parts of their faces, leaving me staring into Clay’s narrowed blue eyes instead of the monitor. Shoshanna slides the pen along my abdomen until a beat crackles like an old radio.

‘There is the heartbeat. Nice and strong.’

I close my eyes, wanting to disregard my situational circumstances and not being able to see the monitor anyway, and instead listen to the second heart inside me for the first time. I crack a smile.

This is really cool.

Lasting evidence that something happened that night between Benji and me.

‘He’s about twelve weeks,’ she says, but I barely absorb her words, lost in the sound of new life. Sadness flitters through me that Benji isn’t holding my hand, touching my hair softly. Not that he ever did that while he was alive. But, he wanted to. Our situation stopped him. I’m sure of it.

And now I’m kinda hopeful, for the first time since that day. This kid is going to have a great life. Belong.

Many beats of his heart later, Shoshanna stops moving the pen around my stomach, and holds it still, pressing firmly, pointedly, just to the left of my hipbone.

Forcing my eyes open, I gaze up at her. Shifting across her soft gaze is something strange, a message to the men I don’t understand. I inhale quickly, holding my breath, white noise crackling between my ears. What’s wrong? Shoshanna nods at Clay, who narrows his clear blue eyes on the monitor.

Shoshanna turns back to me. ‘Well, he is still small, but the nub between his legs is facing vertically, Fawn. That means it is likely you are having a boy. Congratulations.’

A boy.

A boy who might look like Benji…

I thought that I would forever be looking for his smile, seeing it in crowds, seeing it behind me in the reflection of a store window. But now, I’m hoping I’ll see it in the boy we made. It’ll be nice knowing that a smile like his is still shared with the world even if I don’t get to experience it firsthand.

‘Very good,’ Luca states, tapping Clay on the shoulder before leaving the room with a stiff nod.

Shoshanna watches him leave, and then stares at Clay expectantly while I dart my eyes between them, wondering what I’m missing. ‘Maybe she’d like some privacy for the next part of this, Clay?’ she says firmly.

He shakes his head once but creates the illusion of discretion, by stepping into a corner of the room and sitting down on a chair. ‘Privacy is a privilege.’

‘Well, I’m her doctor. So, you need to move up by her head.’ He stares at her, a subtle smile on his face but a pulse beneath his jaw. Shoshanna rolls her eyes. The exchange is familiar, as though they are related. She looks back at me as she says, ‘Have you had a Pap smear since you had intercourse, Fawn?’

My world tilts, and I glance at Clay but he’s cool as a cucumber, as though watching a pelvic exam is just in a day’s work for him. The tips of my ears burn as I dart my gaze to the ends of my hair, shaking my head slowly.

‘No worries. I’ll do it now.’