Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name (57 page)

He paused, waiting for a protest, then continued when he heard none. “Call your doctor and have her do what she needs to do in making sure that you’re healthy and prescribing your prenatal vitamins. If you play fractious, Axia, you know I’ll simply get my own doctor assigned to you. After all that, I’ll take you in to do an ultrasound. But you’re
never
leaving this house without me, got that?”

“You can’t treat me like a prisoner. I’ll call my father…”

He couldn’t cage me up and treat me like that. I was a twenty-six–year-old woman, with my own business, my own life, my own millions. How dare he try to reprimand me like a hare-brained filly, all because of a bloody fetus inside me.

Lovello shrugged. “Call him if it suits you. I’m pretty sure he won’t object to my actions once I tell him what you were doing. I’m quite aware of your father’s principles. I know he’s a religious, upstanding man who won’t support this kind of bullshit. And you don’t even want to let Marcello Nelson get a whiff of this news, sweetie. It wouldn’t be pretty. He can ruin you with just a wink of his eye. I’m sure you know that.” He crouched down to level his eyes with mine. “Just accept it, Axia: there’s no getting out of this pregnancy.”

At those last words, sweat instantly stained my palms, and I rubbed them up and down my jeans-clad thighs. My heart began racing at the frightening realization that I was really going to carry a child. On their own, my legs started bouncing uncontrollably and my teeth were chattering so hard that my gum hurt. It suddenly felt really hard to breathe. Really hard. Then a spate of tears streamed down my face as my whole body started to shiver. I couldn’t control anything that was happening to my body. It was acting of its own volition.

“Axia?” Lovello’s voice was an echoing sound. He sounded so far away, like he was in a tunnel. Waves of his one word crashed over my head.

“Axia?” Panic striated his voice this time.

I barely felt his touch as he wrapped his arms around my shivering body and lifted me up to lower me rightfully on the bed. “Breathe, beauts, breathe…”

The tears kept flowing and my limbs kept trembling, as the words ‘I’m pregnant’ and, ‘I’m going to have a baby,’ rolled over and over in my head. Lovello climbed into the bed with me and pulled the duvet over both of us. He wrapped his warm body around me like an ivy, cradling me to him. “Shh … breathe, beauts…” he soothed.

After a few passing minutes, the shivering abated, and the rapid palpitation of my heart subdued. But the tears deluged all the more, accompanied by sharp hiccups and heaves. “I-I-I’m scared, Love.”

Those were words I never used. Though there were quite a few things that scared me, getting me to admit it was never a probability. ‘I’m scared’. ‘I don’t know what to do’. ‘Help me.’ They were all things I never said. Ever.

Now all it took was a latent Nelson to demolish me. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I was deteriorating. And I was frightened to death because there was nothing I could to sustain myself. My strength was non-existent.

“Don’t be, beauts,” Lovello whispered. “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. For the rest of my life. I’ll take care of you.”

XXX

W
hen I woke up the room was dark, indicating that night had fallen. Like a caterpillar, my body was wrapped up in a thick duvet, while the air-conditioner was on full blast. I looked to the open doorway and saw Lovello’s silhouetted frame leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded across his chest — at least, I
thought
I did. Because when I murmured a “hey” through a yawn as I rubbed my bleary eyes, the silhouetted frame vanished. Maybe he was never really there?

Feeling starved as if I could eat a cow, I unwrapped myself from the duvet and climbed out of bed, deciding to grab a quick shower first. I would most likely have to don one of Lovello’s T-shirts and boxers since I no longer had any of my stuff here.

There was a glass of orange juice with garnish sitting on the nightstand and, not caring if it was left there for me or not, I guzzled it down. It only served to aggrandize my already gargantuan appetite.

That power-sleep was much-needed and much-deserved. I felt rested and a bit clear-headed, and somewhat giddy about the fact that Lovello and I were kind of getting back on track. Maybe that’s what’s giving me an appetite again? Making me feel energized, rejuvenated and ready to love him ten times harder than before?

Yes, I loved him. With all my heart. And for the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I felt good about it. I think it was because of Lovello’s eagerness for me to carry this child. How badly he wanted it. There’s something about a man not being afraid of responsibilities that magnifies their sexiness. Some men would’ve caught a stroke at the news of pregnancy in a relationship as short as ours. Especially when they thought they were playing safe.

Then there were the men who would don their running shoes and sprint to the other end of the earth faster than Usain Bolt, leaving a woman to raise a child on her own. What the heck do they have to be afraid of? They’re not the ones who’re going to suffer sickness and shit for nine long months. They’re not the ones who’ll grow out of shape, get stretch marks and deflated boobs. They’re not the ones who’re going to have a baby’s big-ass head forcing its way through their pleasure source. What the
hell
are they running from?

What
, exactly, do men fear about being a father? A woman has every right to fear, to run from all this, to scream bloody murder, because all the burden is laid on her, while men are still allowed to look ‘oh so fabulous’ and carry on with their charming awesomeness. All a woman needs from these dipshits is support and kind words, and a helping hand when the baby arrives. And they’re running from
that
?

Assholes.

So maybe it was knowing that I wouldn’t have to raise a child on my own anymore that gave me a lighter, more acceptable feeling about the situation? Or maybe it was because he’d said those words: “
I’ll take care of you. For the rest of my life. I’ll take care of you.
“

A smile crept across my face. Yeah, it was most definitely because of those words. Impatient to jump under the rain-shower, I trundled to the en suite bathroom and stopped short when I saw my stuff. My robe, toothbrush and all my toiletries were all there.

As the thought that he had kept my things came to mind, I dismissed it and continued on to the shower. He wouldn’t have done that. He hated me. He’d been screwing around with every skunk in a skirt, so he wouldn’t have kept my things around. I’m figuring he just found a way to get past Bill into Crissida Cove and got them. It would make sense, seeing that I was forbidden to leave this house.

I hopped into the shower and turned my face up to the steaming water.
Damn, I’ve missed this shower.

Some fifteen minutes later I emerged from the shower fresh and thoroughly scoured. As I padded into the bedroom, Rosa knocked on the open door then popped her head in. “Miss Blacksille?”

“You can call me Axia, Rosa,” I said, toweling my hair. “Come in.”

“Mr. Nelson prefers formality,” Rosa smiled as she walked into the room. Her smile was always bright and genuine whenever she saw me, which told me she was fond of me. Maybe because we’re partially of the same kind. Because there weren’t many people who
genuinely
liked me. Many just tolerate me. Not because they want to, but because they have to. “I here to inform you dinner is ready. Do you prefer to eat here, or you eat downstairs? Mr. Nelson say you to eat here.”

Rosa concentrated hard when she spoke, seemingly annoyed that her English wasn’t polished. And I wondered why Lovello didn’t allow her to speak in her tongue since he understood it.

“Mr. Nelson can say whatever the hell he wants. Now he’s trying to confine me to the bedroom?” I shook my head. “I will be eating in the dining room where dinners are rightfully supposed to be eaten.”

Rosa nodded and started out of the room.

“Do you know if he went to get my things earlier?” I asked her as she was just out of the door. Surely, he must’ve brought clothes for me if he’d gotten my toiletries.

Rosa’s brows furrowed. “No. Mr. Nelson been here all day, making sure you okay.” Her eyes studied my robe, then shifted to the closet, a small smile pulling at her plump lips. “Have you checked closets? Your things ever-present, Miss Blacksille. Never left. Never left.” She shook her head to emphasize and held her hand, palm up, in the direction of the closet. “Go see. Your things still there. Always there.”

When I simply stared back at Rosa in disbelief, she twisted her lips to stifle her smile and rolled her big rump out of the room.

Still in shock, I slowly moved towards the closet, eying the handles as if a monster would lurch out at any moment. Maybe Rosa was just messing with me, because I couldn’t fathom
why
Lovello would keep my shit. Wrapping my fingers around the handles of the closet doors, I took a deep breath and opened them.
I’ll be damned …

Lovello, indeed, had kept my stuff. Everything was there. Exactly as I’d left them. My clothes, shoes, handbags, cosmetics … everything. Something glistened on the vanity where my accessories and make-up kit were. As I neared the vanity and saw what it was, I couldn’t help smiling. It was his diamond-covered million dollar
Chopard
watch. There was a note sticking from its open box:
“Hi again. I’ve missed your wrist. Wear me always, with pride, for I am yours.”

Grinning like a toothless baby, I latched the watch around my wrist, plopped down on the stool in front of the vanity and began combing my hair. I was home. Lovello never hated me. He’d kept every piece of me with him. He knew we would be back together. Or had he just hoped for it? If that was the case, then he must’ve had some strong faith to even write that note.

I was home.
Everything suddenly felt right. Everything suddenly made sense again. Everything would be alright …

Well, in the heat of the moment, that’s what I’d thought …

I’d gotten dressed and journeyed downstairs, thinking that Lovello would be having dinner with me. But I was disappointed to learn that he was having dinner in his study, and had instructed his staff not to disturb him. That
no one
should. Being the rule-breaker that I was, I disregarded all orders and went to his study after dinner, but found that the door was locked. And when I knocked, he didn’t respond.

After a few more tries of knocking to no avail, I gave up and went back to bed. Nausea was annoying me again, anyway.

The next morning I woke up to find that I’d slept alone. Lovello never came to bed, nor was he anywhere in sight. It was only fifteen minutes to seven and he didn’t normally leave for work until eight.

The day brightened and dimmed, and I still hadn’t seen him.

Donna was there at my beck and call. I couldn’t even sneeze without being pounced upon with concerning questions. Marian had come by to do a few check-ups, and given me prenatal vitamins along with medication for my “panic attacks” and pregnancy-triggered anemia.

The night blackened and the morning burst through, and I yet again woke up to no Lovello.

For the next couple of days that was how things played. No Lovello, nowhere. The thing was I could never tell if he was home or not, because the place was so damn huge he could be at the other wing of the house and I wouldn’t know. Not to mention that I spent the majority of my time puking like a newborn, eating like a horse and sleeping like an Olympian.

Huge be the house or sick be me, however, it was obvious even to the blind that Lovello was avoiding me. And it was disheartening. It hurt …
so much.

I’d thought things were good between us. At least, the last couple of words we exchanged gave the
illusion
that things were good between us. Maybe he’d been so frightened during my panic attack that he’d merely succumbed to being temporarily nice to me in the hope that I’d feel better? Yes, his words had been as smooth as olive oil, and I’d found comfort and promise in them.