Nikolai
Angry did not begin to cover what I was feeling in that moment. As I slammed the door to Madeline’s apartment behind me there was a sense of finality that shook my system to the core. The idea that somehow everything I had experienced with Madeline was a lie was almost too much for me to bear. Emotions swamped me until I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking.
Was I angry with her for lying to me? Or upset at the idea that the baby wasn’t mine? Should I feel relieved about the whole thing—or was this a moment to feel betrayed?
I wasn’t certain, but there was one little thing that I couldn’t quite put out of my head: what if Madeline was lying? Not then, not before when she told me she had been a virgin and that I had been her very first. No, instead, what if it was just now that had been a lie? I had witnessed her tears. She’d seemed genuinely afraid to tell me about the baby, but not because it wasn’t mine. Instead, she’d seemed positive that it was mine and that her hesitancy to tell me stemmed from this idea that I wouldn’t have wanted it.
And perhaps I shouldn’t have. God knew it would make my life much more complicated. In the end, Madeline had given me a very viable way out. No child to worry about. No lover to remain at home, preventing me from entertaining other female guests in my home or my bed. No responsibilities as such.
Except I had pictured a life with all of those things—a life with Madeline and that baby—and now there was a strange, aching part of me that wanted it. The urge was so strong that I had to force myself to take deep, soothing breaths and remember I was standing outside her apartment because there was a chance the baby wasn’t mine.
But I just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.
There was a huge part of me that wanted to march right back in there and demand she tell me the truth. I wanted her to admit she wanted me just as much as I wanted her, that I had been her first, that her desire for me had driven her to give up her virginity to me and me alone. I wanted her to pour out her deepest desires, because I knew they circled around me. She had to be craving the same things I was. She had to want deep, passionate sex that left her aching in the morning, but sated in a way that she’d never been before.
She had to.
And some part of her had to want to tell me the baby was mine. I knew it.
But the much more rational part of me knew that was a poor choice. Madeline had made it clear that she didn’t want to admit the baby was mine—if it was at all, of course—and going back now would only cause more problems. No, I would have to leave so I could clear my head. I had to think things through and come up with a better approach. A means of proving the baby was mine, to begin with, and then a way of proving how much Madeline wanted me.
Things that would take some careful planning, I was beginning to assume.
Plus, if I gave Madeline enough time alone, maybe she would come to her senses. Once she’d calmed down about the whole thing, she could realize that we were clearly made for each other. And more importantly, that she was already mine, not that asshole fiancé of hers. She didn’t belong with him. If she did, she wouldn’t keep spreading her legs for me to fit between.
Resolving to give things a little space and time, I reminded myself I had a job to complete anyway. Logan’s trail was getting cold and since I hadn’t learned anything of his whereabouts from Madeline—as though I’d even asked in the first place—I was falling quickly behind. If I didn’t get my ass in gear, I was going to end up right back where I started.
I decided I needed to put all of my attention in finding and killing Logan. Once that was taken care of, I could deal with the issues with Madeline. And if that gave her enough time to get married before coming to her senses, if that meant killing a husband, so be it.
Feeling better at least a little bit now that I had renewed direction, I focused my attention on my work.
Turning determinedly from the door, I stalked down the hallway towards the stairs that would lead me to the lobby. I considered where Logan might be now, given that he clearly wasn’t hiding out at Madeline’s. The only smart thing the asshole had done in the first place. If he dragged her into this, I might be forced to do worse than kill him. I still didn’t think the father was a place Logan would go. It was out of town, which would be the smart move to make, but I was getting the impression that the father was…stricter and less forgiving than Madeline.
What sort of young woman, as beautiful and lovable as Madeline, was still a virgin in her early twenties? The answer was one who had been raised to believe in waiting for sex until marriage. And typically, those types of parents were very strict in their belief systems and less forgiving of straying from the path.
Which might be why Madeline is so eager to be married.
The thought came unbidden, but as soon as it was there I felt that it was viable. After all, if her father was strict about the whole no sex until marriage thing, then her being pregnant would put her at odds with her family. But if she married Shawn before she started showing…yes, it was certainly a realistic scenario.
Unfortunately, so was the one where she lied about being a virgin in the first place.
I frowned and tried to refocus on Logan. The father was out as a hiding place. So, obviously, was Madeline. There was no mother. So, what were my options? I thought about his partner from the bar that night. Was there a possibility that I could get more information on him and that they were maybe hiding out together? It seemed reasonable. I decided I would try Peter first, then Mickey. The less I had to involve Mickey, the happier he would be about the whole thing.
I headed down the stairs, finally emerging into the lobby. I noticed there wasn’t even a person sitting at the front desk and thought not for the first time how lousy of a place this was. She can’t stay here, I thought, and had to remind myself I was trying to give Madeline space.
Obviously, it wasn’t going very well just yet.
As I was making my way towards the door, I noticed a young man heading in. He had dirt colored hair and a summery tanned skin tone, but otherwise was unremarkable. I would have walked right past him if I hadn’t had a sudden, vivid spark of memory. He was standing next to Madeline just opposite her apartment door. They were leaving together, talking and familiar in a way that made my hackles rise. I didn’t care for the way they were being so casual, so used to each other’s presence. It didn’t settle well with me to the point where I had the urge to sink my fist into his face.
A similar reaction came over me now, but stronger in intensity as I finally put some of the pieces together. This man here was Shawn. Her fiancé. The man whom she claimed had gotten her pregnant, but wasn’t man enough to make her want him the way she wanted me.
Sudden, blinding rage consumed me and all I wanted to do was inflict serious violence upon this unsuspecting wretch of a man. I should have kept walking, but I couldn’t do it. Maybe if I hadn’t caught his gaze and seen sudden spark of recognition on his part, too, I could have done it. But this man had put together who I was just as I’d done with him, which sparked a mingling of anger and hope in my chest.
Madeline had mentioned me just as she had mentioned him. Maybe that meant nothing, but a small, determined voice in my head promised this was important. I was important enough to her that she had told him about me.
Shawn’s features darkened, his expression one of obvious annoyance and anger towards me. It fed the emotions inside me, the ones that told me it was a good thing that I had already gotten under this man’s skin. After all, why would he be annoyed towards me if I meant nothing to Madeline? It wasn’t as though she had told him I was her fiancé, after all.
Squaring my shoulders, gearing up for a fight, I stopped my progress and allowed him to approach me. He did automatically, easily, and I smiled darkly at his eagerness.
My hands ached with the urge to ball into fists, to pummel into his tanned, unremarkable face. She deserves better than you, I thought without missing a beat. I could beat him to within an inch of his life and farther. If I got rid of him and then his body, Madeline would have no one to claim as hers, no wall to put up in defense of my relentless determination to claim her.
It would be easy, but I restrained.
I arched an eyebrow at him, waiting.
Puffing himself up as big as he was able, he squared his shoulders—slighter, less impressive compared to my own well-defined body—and lifted his chin just slightly. It might have been a gesture of defiance if he weren’t so obviously shorter than me. Short enough that he had to look up to stare me in the eyes.
It made me smile viciously down at him.
“You need to leave her alone,” he said in what was supposed to be a menacing, in control tone, I was sure, but fell rather flat on my ears.
His simple command made my body twitch with sudden, gripping tension. What right did this child have to order me around? He couldn’t call himself a man, clearly, since he hadn’t yet convinced Madeline the way I had. Sure, she was avoiding me now, hiding behind him as though that might detour me, but I knew better. She was only afraid of the deep well of desire that opened up whenever we were in the same room together. It wasn’t because of any love or devotion to this pathetic excuse of a man.
I grinned at him, dark and menacing, as I forced myself to be calm, despite the growing need to pummel him. “I’ll give you one opportunity,” I told him in a calm that should have terrified him.
I saw him shake a little, but he did his best to hold it back. It was the only impressive thing I’d seen him do yet, but it wasn’t enough to make me like him more. There was something slimy about him that made me want to wash my hands of this poor excuse for a human being. I couldn’t explain it, but it was there.
“Opportunity for what?” he asked snidely.
“To walk away from her.”
At that he barked out a short, obnoxious laugh. He was clearly trying to be tough, but was inexperienced with it to say the least. I found him to be annoying at best, but I was determined—for Madeline’s poor heart more than anything else—to give him this single opportunity. Then I would show him what I did to people who tried to give me orders. I waited for an answer and it came swiftly.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he answered, his thin lips pulling back in a sneer. Perhaps my repulsion was purely because he was moving in on my territory, but I found him to be an ugly young man. More so the longer I was in his presence. “She’s my fiancée and if you think for one second that—”
I didn’t let him finish. As soon as fiancée slipped from his ugly mouth, I grabbed for him. My hands fisted themselves into his plain t-shirt and I shoved him backwards. He slammed into the wall and I lifted, finding him to be light as I pinned him against the wall for leverage. His feet dangled just out of reach of the floor as I got into his face.
“I will tell you this once, so listen well because I will not have a second conversation with you,” I told him in a low, dangerous tone, my emotions getting the better of me. I didn’t care. “If you come within eyesight of Madeline ever again, I will have no choice. I will kill you. Don’t underestimate me, boy.”
With that, I let him fall. He stumbled, then finally just slumped down against the wall, landing on his butt with his long legs spiraled awkwardly about him. He was wide-eyed and pale, looking like some gawking, awkward teenager instead of the man who was supposed to marry Madeline.
I left him feeling sure that at least one problem was taken care of. He wasn’t brave enough to defy me.