Cunning (Infidelity #2) (36 page)

“No. “I squinted my eyes. “Dr. Beck, you know I can’t get pregnant. You’re the one who told me that.”

He reached for my hand. “I said that with the damage your uterus sustained during Alexandria’s birth, conceiving another child was highly unlikely.”

“We had difficulty conceiving her. You made it seem like it was impossible.”

“Before I prescribe you a narcotic pain controller, I want to be certain you’re not pregnant.”

The nausea was back as my skin became coated in a new round of perspiration. I wrapped my arm around my midsection. “I-I can’t be.”

“You and Alton haven’t had sexual intercourse in the last month?”

“We have. But I can’t. He doesn’t think it’s possible.” I closed my eyes as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Please, he… I can’t.”

Dr. Beck opened the bag he’d brought with him and pulled out a pregnancy test. It wasn’t elaborate, much like the ones sold at the store. “I’m your doctor. I have been for most of your life. I won’t tell Alton anything you don’t want him to know.”

I couldn’t believe I was thinking this way. I couldn’t believe the words were in my head, much less the possibility of my saying them. I also couldn’t give Alton Fitzgerald a child of his own. It was bad enough that I subjected Alexandria to him. I refused to sentence another child to life with him.

I pulled back the covers and reached for the box he offered. “Doctor, if this is positive, what are my chances of carrying this baby to term?”

“We both know it would be a very difficult pregnancy.”

“Difficult for the baby or for me?”

“Both.”

It sounded selfish, but I also couldn’t leave Alexandria. I may not be the world’s best mother, but I was the only one she had. Her only family now that Russell and my parents were gone. I couldn’t fathom who would raise her. There was always the possibility of Gwen and Preston or Suzanna. Or Suzanna and Alton.

I clenched my teeth. What would happen to Alexandria if Alton didn’t need her?

Very few of my life’s decisions had been left to me. I was making this one.

“If this is positive, I can’t do it.”

Dr. Beck nodded. “We can take care of it, and no one will know.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

I WOKE AS
the world came into focus. Soft lips warmed my head as a deep velvet voice rumbled from my dreams to reality. And then I remembered… everything.

My breakdown was completely out of character, but I’d felt blindsided—my two worlds once again colliding. How had Nox’s father known my mother? Now I’d need to tell Nox everything, and I didn’t think I was ready for that. My parents’ betrayal was still too raw.

I sat straight, wiping my lips and my eyes.

I’d fallen asleep on Nox.

I turned, disoriented, as he reached for my hand. “Sleepyhead, we’re here.”

The building outside the car’s window was unfamiliar, the glass doors similar to so many in the city. “Where? Where are we?”

“My—our apartment.”

My chin dropped. “Nox, maybe Isaac should take me to my apartment. I need to think for awhile.”

“No. You can think here. You have no furniture, food, or anything in your apartment. And most importantly, my apartment is safe.” He lifted my chin and brushed his lips against mine. “If that isn’t enough, I’m here and I have a fully stocked bar. After the way you looked with Oren, I think you could use one or both.”

I could definitely use the bar.

“Both,” I finally said with a weary grin.

I avoided looking up at Nox as we made our way through the lobby and into the elevator. I didn’t even notice the surroundings. I was sure the building was nice. Of course it was. None of it registered as I contemplated my impending explanation.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the car. It was the emotion and probably the glass of wine. The last meal we’d had was on the plane. As the elevator rose higher and higher, I thought less and less about what I needed to say and more about food.

“Do you have food?” I whispered, though we were the only two in the elevator.

Nox grinned. “The correct question is ‘do
we
have food?’ And the answer is yes. We also have a cook, but she wasn’t expecting us for one more day. So we have food, but I have no idea what.”

I nodded. “I can cook.”

His pale eyes widened. “You can?”

“Yes.” For some reason, Patrick came to mind. “I’m not a gourmet chef, but I can make a mean spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Meatballs? You do realize you’re talking to an Italian here.”

“Well…” I paused, scrunching my nose. “I’ve always bought my meatballs frozen.”

His free hand flew to his heart. “The sacrilege!”

“How about toasted cheese?”

“Grilled-cheese sandwich?” he asked.

“Same thing.”

“It sounds wonderful.” The doors opened. “What wine do you suppose goes with grilled-cheese sandwiches?”

“A California one,” we both said in unison.

Nox opened the door and flipped a switch. Lights turned on throughout the living room and dining area like soft-white liquid washing away the darkness. This building was older than Patrick’s, but still modern by New York standards. The oak flooring contrasted with the light-colored walls. Like Patrick’s apartment, the impressive feature was the windows. Two adjoining walls were filled with floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of the lit-up city was stunning in each direction.

He reached for my hand. “Let me show you around.”

Silently, I agreed, following close behind as Nox took me from room to room. The first direction took us to a small hall with three doors. One led to a bathroom. The next led to a small bedroom with a queen-sized bed and other bedroom furniture. The last door opened to a larger bedroom, beautifully decorated in shades of brown and green. The four-poster bed was a California king that dominated the room. Directly across the room was a fireplace with a flat-screened television above. Near the windows showcasing more of the gorgeous city view sat a plush chair with a matching ottoman. Connected to the bedroom was a dressing room about the size of the first bedroom, except long and narrow with a padded bench in the middle. The walls were lined with cabinets and drawers. At the far end of the dressing room was a big, beautiful bathroom complete with a shower that had showerheads coming from all directions. The garden tub also had a view of the city below. The bathroom was accessible from the dressing room as well as the bedroom directly.

When we completed the circle, and came back to the bedroom, I said with a smirk, “I’ll take this room.”

“Yes, princess, you will.”

“I hope you don’t mind the smaller one.”

His lips quirked into a grin. “I’d ask you the same question, but as you know, you get the large one.”

I shook my head.

The other direction from the dining area was another hallway. It led to an office, a workout room, and another full bath.

“If you need your own office to study, we can have the second bedroom converted.”

“But if you did that, then where would you sleep?”

He squeezed my hand. “All of your things from the Mandarin and from our trip are here. I meant what I said about shopping. Get whatever you need. The weather’s different here than it is in Palo Alto. I’m sure you’ll need things.”

I didn’t want to think about spending more of his money.

“Do those doors near the table lead to the outside?”

Nox led the way and opened the door. The balcony was the length of the dining area and the office. There was a small table for two as well as long chaise lounges. We were high above the city. “Nox, this is gorgeous. I love the view.”

“Do you want to make those famous sandwiches or tell me what my father was talking about?”

“If that’s an either/or, I’ll make sandwiches.”

“It’s not,” he said as we went back inside.

I rummaged through the refrigerator while Nox found bread and a frying pan.

“Does your cook live here?” I asked.

“If I want to live on grilled-cheese sandwiches she will.”

“As I said… spaghetti.”

“Not with frozen meatballs.”

“They’re not frozen once they’re cooked.”

“Her name is Lana,” he said. “She lives in the building and works for multiple tenants. She also cleans and does laundry.”

I nodded as I buttered the bread. “I don’t know where to start. Remember when you said that my not knowing your past was refreshing?”

“Yes.”

“The feeling was mutual. I wasn’t hiding my family… I just don’t like them. I spent four years in California pretending they didn’t exist.”

“Tell me how you’re an heiress, whatever the fuck that means, and why you resorted to Infidelity.”

The bread sizzled against the hot pan. “I had a trust fund and then I didn’t. I was desperate. Someone told me about Infidelity. I went on the interview. It’s just as I said. It was all true.”

“How does my father know who you are?”

I shrugged as I flipped the sandwiches over. “From the photo in the media, I presume. It had my name.”

“Alex Collins,” Nox said. “I’m sorry. I’m pretty good at names. Hilton, Trump—I would’ve figured that out. Collins? I’m coming up blank.”

“Collins was my father’s name. And before you ask, yes, he’s deceased. My mother’s maiden name…” My head dropped forward as butterflies grew to bats in my stomach, making the sandwiches less appealing. “…is—”

Nox appeared behind me, his solid arms around my waist. “Wait. Before you tell me this—because I have the feeling it’s important—let me pour our wine. Let’s enjoy the summer’s night on the balcony, eat our sandwiches, and bask in the fact that we met face to face with the devil and made it out alive.”

I tilted my head against his hard chest. “What if we didn’t?”

He spun me around and I looked up.

“We did, Charli,” he said. “We’re here.”

“What if we can’t escape, and what if there’s more than one devil?”

“Then we’ll survive, because there are two of us.” He lifted my eyes to his and cupped my cheeks. “When I used to think about you, after Del Mar, when I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, I used to think about your beautiful eyes.”

The pads of his thumbs caressed my cheeks.

“They’re stunning and distinctive. Sometimes, when you didn’t know I watched you, I saw shadows. I still do.”

I tried unsuccessfully to look away, but his hold wouldn’t budge. He was right. I hated how well Nox knew me without my telling him. I’d never considered myself to be transparent. Nevertheless, Nox saw inside of me, into my soul.

“I wondered about them,” he went on. “How does someone as young and successful as you have shadows? I believe whatever you’re about to tell me will answer at least part of that question.”

I nodded. “You have them too. I saw them yesterday.”

“I do.” His chest inflated and deflated. “Charli, I won’t rush you. Our agreement doesn’t exist. Don’t go anyplace to find the answers. I want you to wait until you’re ready, until you’re strong enough.”

“I’m not going…”

He touched my temple. “In there. Don’t go there.” Then he touched my heart. His hand lingered, not sexually, but reverently. “Or in here. If you’ve buried things for a reason, don’t uncover them until you can.”

Suddenly, Nox let go of me as the stench of burning toast reminded us of our sandwiches.

“Shit!” I exclaimed as I turned back to the stove and moved the pan away from the hot burner.

Nox pulled two plates from the cupboard, and I scooped the sandwiches from the pan and plopped them on the plates, placing the golden brown side facing up.

I pursed my lips as I used the spatula to lift one corner of the sandwich and peek at the darker side. “That was your fault.”

“Mine? You’re the one claiming culinary genius.”

“You distracted me.”

He took the spatula from my hand and examined it closely. “Hmm. I just had an idea.”

Snatching it away, I said, “I have one too. It involves wine. I’ll take our sandwiches to the balcony.”

Nox’s sandwich was gone and mine was half-eaten when he refilled my glass of merlot.

“I guess it wasn’t inedible?” I asked.

He grinned. “Well… I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“Fine. Keep the cook. I have studying that I need to be doing anyway.”

He reached for the remaining half of my sandwich and asked, “Are you going to eat this?”

“I was.”

Tearing it in half, he handed me back the quarter. “I was hungrier than I realized and your cooking is divine. Now, onto whatever you were about to say in the kitchen before we were distracted by smoke.”

I did my best glare, sending pretend daggers his way before nibbling another bite of my sandwich. As I washed it down with a hearty drink of wine, I formulated my response. “My mother’s maiden name is Montague.” I stopped, waiting to see if it registered.

Does he know the name? Will it matter?

For what seemed like the longest time, he didn’t move, not even a blink. Then he stood and walked to the clear banister with the silver railing and turned his back toward me.

“Montague?” he asked, looking out onto the city’s lights. “I don’t suppose Shakespeare wrote a play about your family?”