Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m on the island of St. John, floating on my back in the infinity pool. The sky is peppered with cotton candy clouds, and the ocean whispers secrets on a salt-scented breeze. Roy walks to the edge of the pool and kneels down with his hair wet and raked back from his handsome face. His beauty gives me peace until a dark shadow falls across his face and my own pains wrack my body in time with the lightning strikes that mar the sky.
“Roy,” I whimper.
The dark clouds multiply until the whole sky is coal-black and streaked with lightning veins. The once-wakeless water dips and chops and gets in my mouth and eyes. I can’t swim. My body is wracked with pain. My arms and legs grind to a halt, and I’m yanked into the cold depths until my lungs fill with liquid and my screams are silent.
“Do something… Now! Go. Handle. Gone.” Multiple voices meld and flow together.
The pain may be dulled, but it’s not gone. The mind knows it’s there, even if the receptors are blocked. I’m caught between the two: pain and no pain. I’m on my back. My arms and legs stretch out from my body like a stick-man figure. My eyelashes are glued together. It takes considerable concentration to flicker them open. There’s filtered sunlight, flowers, stark walls, the smell of bleach.
“Daisy, you’re awake.”
It’s Roy. I’m not dead. I can’t see him. I try to turn my head. No, not happening. I mouth, “I love you.”
The warmth of his large hand holding mine comforts me. There are words, lots of them floating around the room, but I can’t catch them. A woman’s voice and hands—not Roy’s—turn my head. I see him. I want to reach out. I want to be in his arms. He’s talking, and the nurse is trying to push him out of the way. Something’s wrong with me. She’s trying to do something to me. I fight my eyelids with everything I have. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with Roy. In the end, my body is powerless, and nothingness takes me.
When they open again, Roy’s holding my hand. I’m able to turn my head enough to see he’s sleeping sitting up. I want to comfort him. Maybe I move, but I don’t know.
He jolts, his green eyes open, and he releases a massive sigh. “There’s my beautiful girl.”
“Water,” I say through cracked lips. My eyes dart around the room, searching for clues. “Where am I?” He bends the straw and helps me lean forward enough to sip the water, and I fall back, exhausted.
“In a hospital, in New York. You lost a lot of blood, along with other things.”
I nod, remembering how the blood had pooled around me. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and warm tears wet my face.
“Baby.” He cups my face. “None of this was your fault.”
Almost dying has a way of making things clear. “I pushed you away. I love you.”
“I love you too. It’s gonna be alright.” His soft lips kiss mine. “Everything’s gonna be alright now.”
It’s like this for I don’t know how long. Me drifting awake and Roy being there to comfort me and each time I come back, I’m stronger and more alert until, finally, I open my eyes and blink a few times to acclimate to the light. I’m a little numb and a lot hungry.
I try to sit up, and pain spreads through my chest.
“Don’t.” Roy places his hand gently on my shoulder. “The bed moves.” He reaches for a remote hanging on the rail, and my back slowly lifts until I’m in a half-reclined position. “A few ribs are cracked.”
“He hurt me.”
“He paid for it.” Roy’s voice breaks. He coughs and shakes his head slightly, like sorting out unruly thoughts inside his mind.
“My uncle,” I mutter and try to reach out to him. My arm is stiff, bandaged from wrist to elbow, where Sebastian cut through my vein vertically. “We were in St. John.”
His brow furrows. “Ah, I was afraid you were reliving…This is good. Dream of the island.” I nod. “When you’re healed we’ll go back.”
“Yes,” I whisper as the darkness wraps a shawl around me.
Someone’s jostling me. I don’t like it. I wake with a jolt as a woman turns me on my side.
“Only taking some tubes out. Be done in a moment.”
I’m on my back again. I remember her from before. The nurse arguing with Roy.
“Good to have you back. I’ll let Mr. Blackwood know you’re awake.”
Before she gets to the door, he strides in with a face like an angry God as he towers over her. “How is she?” She stands her ground and points in my direction. His whole visage changes when our eyes meet. “I went out for a moment.” He smiles and sits by the bed and takes my hand. “You look better today.”
I take a tentative breath; my ribs are sore, but not as painful. “I’m hungry.”
“I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Hmmm. Egg salad.” I laugh and wince. My ribs do not appreciate the jostling.
With his eyebrow lifted, he asks, “Eggs?”
“I know, I know. I like eggs now. Don’t ask me why.”
He pulls out his cell and taps out a message.
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days.”
“Mae and Stella?”
“Shhh. They know. They’re a mess with worry, but they know you’re in good hands.”
My lips are dry and cracked. Roy immediately holds the straw for me to sip water. Four days. “And they know everything?”
“Yes.” He rakes his hands through his hair. “I thought it the right thing to do.”
I nod. It was. I don’t want secrets lying in the cracks between the ones I love anymore.
“We were so lucky we got to you in time. The cut…” He abruptly rises and paces.
I flex my wrist, the bandage restricting my movement. “How…”
“How did we figure it out?”
“Yes.”
“You have Vincent to thank. The reason Mario, the photographer, couldn’t change your appointment when I requested it was because he was on a shoot in Paris. He was flying in for your test photos and immediately flying back to France. Vincent and Gavin have been texting.” Now it’s my turn to lift my eyebrow. “Vincent sent a message saying the photo shoot had been moved up four hours. I immediately called Mario. The call went to his assistant. Mario was on a plane. So I knew whoever you were meeting was not Mario.”
“How did you get there so fast? Didn’t you have that meeting?”
His shoulders hunch a bit, and his hands go in his pockets. For a moment, I see the small boy he once was. “I blew it off to…”
I finish his sentence, “Protect me.”
His eyes are weary. “I should have been at that fucking studio with you.”
I remember what Gavin told me about his mother. Roy’s imperative to protect me. “No. It’s not your fault. Not my fault.” I fumble with the remote and only manage to make my ribs hurt. How many are broken? I cringe, remembering the sound my body made when he crushed me under his boot. “Who is he? My uncle, I mean?”
Roy’s taken the remote and adjusted the bed until I’m sitting up. “We can talk about this later. You need rest.”
“I want to know.”
Roy lowers the bar and settles next to me on the bed, taking my hand in his. “You don’t need this right now.” He cups my face. “You need to heal.”
I bite back a sharp retort. I’m hurt, and he believes it’s his fault, but I need to know what’s going on. “I’ll worry if you don’t tell me.” I shrug. “I almost died; whatever you reveal will be a cakewalk.”
With a furrowed brow, he continues, “He got away.” He lightly presses his finger against my lips. “We were too focused on you. He slipped out, and the police are looking for him. The police will want to speak with you now that you’re awake. Tell them what you know.” He takes my hand. “You’ve never met Mario, so you had no idea it wasn’t him.”
“It was Sebastian,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “We can’t be sure. The police will bring in a sketch artist. Work with them. Maybe they’ll catch him, and this will go to trial.
I see where he’s going with this. If there were a trial, everything would come out into the open. Who I am and how I’m connected to one of the wealthiest families in the country. No, none of it would be good for my aunts or me. “But—”
“Trust me. Stick to what you truly know about him.”
“Is it wrong?”
“No. Justice is being served. He won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
I believe him.
A middle-aged nurse with a cropped haircut and an attitude like a drill sergeant marches into the room. “Ms. Aldridge, happy to see you sitting up. The doctor will be here soon to check on you and—”
“Out.” Roy stands between her and me. “I need to speak with her first.”
“Mr. Blackwood, I’ve had about enough of you. Now I need to get her ready.”
“You need to step out.” He moves toward her.
“The doctor’s going to hear about this.” She huffs and exits.
“Fucking Nurse Ratched,” he mumbles under his breath.
“She’s doing her job.”
“Tomorrow, we’re going home where I can have my people in charge.”
I take in his appearance. His face is drawn from the lack of sleep and eating. His clothes are wrinkled. “What do you need to speak with me about?” What else could there be? My uncle tried to kill me. He’s either on the loose or wearing concrete boots. I’m thinking the latter. I’ve got busted ribs, which make breathing a living hell, and an arm sliced down the middle.
He turns his back to me and stretches his neck. “Did you leave me because you don’t want it?”
Maybe my pain meds are too powerful. Or I’m not as coherent as I thought. “Don’t want what?”
“Daisy, please, you don’t have to hide it anymore, not from me, not now. Tell me.” He lowers his head. “I’ll accept your decision. Were you afraid I wouldn’t want it?” He rakes his hands through his hair. “All my bullshit about bastards and the way I forced birth control on you. I’ve been replaying it over and over in my head.”
“What? I left you because I needed time. And because I’m all wrong. I’m not natural.” I’m not saying this right. “I could accept Mr. Stanwyck as my biological father, but he and my mother were”—I close my eyes—“siblings.”
“Half.” He turns around to face me. “If the records are correct, they were half-siblings. It makes a difference.”
“Half or full seems the same to me.” Careful of my ribs, I sit up taller. “I love you so much. I can’t stay away. Not if you still want me.”
“Daisy.” He comes over to the bed and kisses my lips, his eyes fixed on mine. His head turns slightly to the side like he’s reading me for truthfulness.
“Are you going to talk to me or observe me like I’m a lab experiment?”
“So you don’t know.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I don’t have the energy to keep this up. “Roy, just tell me.”
“I want you to know I think it’s wonderful. And I’m happy about it, and I hope you are too.”
“Okay.”
“You were almost gone when they brought you in. You’d lost…” He looks at the floor like he remembers my pool of blood at the studio. “So much. Too much. I thought you’d die on the way. And we were here, and everything was moving so fast. They took you back, and I was stuck in the fucking waiting room.”
I take his shaking hand. “I’m alright now. You saved me.”
“When the doctor finally came out telling me you were stable, it was like being lifted from purgatory.”
It’s hard seeing Roy unsure, but he’s clearly having a difficult time telling me whatever this fantastic news is.
“When they ran all the tests, they found out you’re pregnant.”
I must not have heard him right. “Pregnant.”
“Yes, they think the baby’s fine.”
“I can’t be pregnant. I took the pill every day.”
“I know you did.” He reaches for my hand. “I think it’s my fault. Or maybe it was meant to be.”
I squint like it will make things clearer. “How can it be your fault?”
“The antibiotic. I got it from Scott, the medic. He assumed I was using a condom; otherwise, he would have told me the risks. Shit, I should have done the research. It was stupid and irresponsible, and if you hate me for it I won’t blame you, but please, don’t punish the baby, our baby.”
On the island, he’d given it to me so I wouldn’t get a UTI; instead, I got pregnant. “I can’t” flies out of my mouth.
His face is stoic. “I know you’re young, and it’s too soon, but I’ll hire nannies and, if you don’t want to be, you won’t be bothered.”
He thinks I don’t want his baby. “No, I’m damaged. I’m a genetic freak.”
“You’re not. You’re healthy, and we’ll have every test run, do everything possible to reassure you. Please, I love you, and I love this baby.”