Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
When I don’t make a move, he says, “If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’ll dress you myself. You need to rest. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can sleep. Sadly, you have to go to work in a few short hours. It’ll look strange if you don’t. You can go to bed early tomorrow.”
I can only stare at him as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
He’s serious about this. For what reasons, I can’t fathom. Earlier, he looked at my stomach as if pregnancy was a horrible disease, and now he wants to make sure my baby is unharmed. What’s for sure is that he’s not going to give me a choice. As scary and horrific as this night is turning out, I just want it to be over. I’ll let him go through with this psycho behavior so that he can get the hell out of here.
Keeping my eyes trained on the door, I pull on the clothes in a hurry. When I step out a minute later, he’s dressed in his suit, pacing the floor with his phone pressed against his ear.
He gives me a quick once-over as he says, “That’ll be all,” before ending the call.
“Warm enough?” he asks, eyeing my sweater.
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
He walks over and stops so close to me the tips of our shoes touch. “Before we go, there’s one thing you need to understand. I don’t make idle threats. Stick to your end of the bargain and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, and no one needs to get hurt.”
My gut churns at the reminder of who he is and what he’s capable of. He doesn’t wait for my agreement. It’s a given. As he made so abundantly clear, I don’t have a choice.
With that threat out of the way, he fetches a glass of water from the kitchen and hands it to me in silent instruction. I don’t argue. I’m constantly thirsty these days. When the glass is empty, he leaves it in the sink and hooks my bag over my shoulder.
“My phone,” I say.
“What about it?”
“I dropped it in the street.”
“I retrieved it.”
Of course he did. “Is it broken?”
“Yes.”
“I need it. I must have it repaired.”
“Later,” he says.
“Why can’t you just give it back to me?”
He places a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me to the door. “I said later.”
I grit my teeth. “I didn’t film what you did if that’s what worries you.”
“You’ll get it back when I’ve checked it.”
Ignoring the curse I utter under my breath, he escorts me downstairs and helps me into a sleek black car before giving the driver instructions.
In forty minutes, we pull up in front of a high-tech glass building in the middle of Manhattan. The ob-gyn who receives us is a middle-aged woman with blond hair knotted in one of those buns that appears stylishly messy. Despite the hour, she wears smart lilac pants under her doctor’s coat with heels in the same color. Her make-up is light but glittery. Maybe she was at an event or a party when Saverio asked her to come in.
She doesn’t seem put out to have been summoned in the early morning hours. Greeting me with a friendly smile, she says, “I’m Dr. Wade.” She indicates a door on the left. “The changing room is through here. You’ll find a disposable robe in a sealed bag on the bench. You can keep your underwear on. When you’re ready, the connecting door gives access to the examination room.”
“Thanks,” I say, not looking at Saverio as I head for the changing room.
I’m nervous when I lower myself into the examination chair a short while later. This is my first ob-gyn visit aside from the initial one where I got the blood test to confirm the pregnancy. I don’t have medical insurance, and the ob-gyn fees are steep.
To my surprise, Saverio takes up a place next to me as the doctor prepares my stomach with gel and switches on an ultrasound machine. I cringe when the growl of my stomach cuts into the silence. After what happened, the thought of food alone makes me want to puke, but the reaction of my body is mechanical, reminding me that it needs energy.
“Have you eaten?” Saverio asks with a deep line running between his eyebrows.
“A salad.”
His lips thin. “In your condition, you need more than a salad.”
“He’s right,” the doctor says, directing a bright smile at me. “The baby is going to take everything he needs from you. You have to make sure your body gets a good balance of healthy nutrients. I can prescribe a supplement.”
I don’t tell her she’d be wasting her time because I can’t afford it. I’m too taken aback by the soft swishing sound that fills the room as she presses a probe on my abdomen.