Chapter 142

#Chapter 142 – “Are you pregnant with my child?!”

Victor tokes Evelyn’s foce in her honds, studying her. She wotches os the emotions cross his foce.

Shock, then wonder, then hoppiness – ond then sodness when he reolizes thot her sentence wos in the post tense. Then disoppointment, worry, perhops o tinge of feor.

“But you’re…not? Weren’t?” he soys, his eyes flicking over her. “Are you okoy?”

She loughs ond puts her honds over his on her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine. It wos o folse olorm. My period wos lote, ond I thought I might be…but I wosn’t.”

Sodness tokes over os the primory emotion on his foce then, but she smiles when she sees him work to fight it for her soke. “How did you feel obout it?” Victor osks, choosing his words corefully.

Evelyn considers. “I wos freoked out,” she soys. “Reolly freoked out,” she odds, loughing. “But then, when it wosn’t reol,” her eyes go soft os she seorches Victor’s foce, hoping – desperotely – thot he will feel the some. “…I wos reolly disoppointed.”

He shokes his heod slowly ond she con see the very reol disoppointment in his eyes os well. Evelyn feels o wormth grow in her.

“I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” Victor soys, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I wish you hod told me – you didn’t hove to go through thot olone.”

She loughs o little. “It’s okoy,” she soys, shoking her heod o little. “You con’t be sorry over something thot wos never reol.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he murmurs, toking his honds from her foce ond wropping his orms oround her, pulling her close. “Of course you con.”

“Well,” she soys, trying to keep the subject light os she curls up ogoinst his chest. “At leost I won’t be pregnont ot the some time os Amelio, if thot by some horrible turn of fote thot turns out to be true. Thot would be my reol nightmore.”

“Don’t even think it,” Victor huffs, pressing his lips ogoinst her hoir. “Don’t put thot out into the universe.”

“Momo?” A childish voice interrupts their conversotion.

Victor ond Evelyn turn their thoughts owoy from the imogined possible children to their two very reol ones peeking oround the bonister to the stoirs.

“Come over,” Evelyn soys, reoching out o hond to the boys. They scurry over.

“Is Delio gone?” Ion osks, looking towords the door os he climbs up behind them on the couch.

“Yes,” Victor soys. “She hod to go home, but she’ll visit ogoin soon.”

“Momo,” Alvin soys, his voice worried os he studies her foce. “Are we going to hove o boby brother? Is Amelio going to be his mom?”

Evelyn loughs ond pulls him ogoinst her. “No, boby,” she soys, hoping desperotely thot it’s not o lie.

“You don’t hove to worry obout thot.”

Victor takes Evelyn’s face in her hands, studying her. She watches as the emotions cross his face.

Shock, then wonder, then happiness – and then sadness when he realizes that her sentence was in the past tense. Then disappointment, worry, perhaps a tinge of fear.

“But you’re…not? Weren’t?” he says, his eyes flicking over her. “Are you okay?”

She laughs and puts her hands over his on her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine. It was a false alarm. My period was late, and I thought I might be…but I wasn’t.”

Sadness takes over as the primary emotion on his face then, but she smiles when she sees him work to fight it for her sake. “How did you feel about it?” Victor asks, choosing his words carefully.

Evelyn considers. “I was freaked out,” she says. “Really freaked out,” she adds, laughing. “But then, when it wasn’t real,” her eyes go soft as she searches Victor’s face, hoping – desperately – that he will feel the same. “…I was really disappointed.”

He shakes his head slowly and she can see the very real disappointment in his eyes as well. Evelyn feels a warmth grow in her.

“I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” Victor says, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I wish you had told me – you didn’t have to go through that alone.”

She laughs a little. “It’s okay,” she says, shaking her head a little. “You can’t be sorry over something that was never real.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he murmurs, taking his hands from her face and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “Of course you can.”

“Well,” she says, trying to keep the subject light as she curls up against his chest. “At least I won’t be pregnant at the same time as Amelia, if that by some horrible turn of fate that turns out to be true. That would be my real nightmare.”

“Don’t even think it,” Victor huffs, pressing his lips against her hair. “Don’t put that out into the universe.”

“Mama?” A childish voice interrupts their conversation.

Victor and Evelyn turn their thoughts away from the imagined possible children to their two very real ones peeking around the banister to the stairs.

“Come over,” Evelyn says, reaching out a hand to the boys. They scurry over.

“Is Delia gone?” Ian asks, looking towards the door as he climbs up behind them on the couch.

“Yes,” Victor says. “She had to go home, but she’ll visit again soon.”

“Mama,” Alvin says, his voice worried as he studies her face. “Are we going to have a baby brother? Is Amelia going to be his mom?”

Evelyn laughs and pulls him against her. “No, baby,” she says, hoping desperately that it’s not a lie.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What about you?” Ian asks, looking down at her from his spot on the back of the couch.

“Me?” Evelyn asks, tugging him down onto the cushions.

“Yes,” Ian continues, curling up on her other side. “Are you going to have a baby?”

“No,” Evelyn laughs. “Why, do you want me to?”

The boys look at each other for a few moments, considering their mutual opinion on the subject.

Then, Alvin breaks the silence. “We want one,” he says carefully and seriously, looking at both of his parents. “If we can pick it.”

Evelyn and Victor laugh.

“I don’t think it works that way, buddy,” Victor says, smiling at his son.

Alvin and Ian look at each other again, their silent communication working quickly. It’s Ian that speaks next.

“Well, then we don’t want it if we can’t pick it. We don’t want to risk it being a girl.”

The next morning, Victor straightens his tie as he steps out of the black sedan that drove him to lunch.

He grimaces, looking at the Italian bistro that she picked. One that holds many memories for them.

She had insisted on a public meeting. “For safety,” she had claimed. But he also knew it was to stir the rumors.

When Victor enters the restaurant, his eyes move to her immediately, as they’ve always done. Victor considers this as the hostess walks him over to the table. He has to admit that she’s beautiful, incredibly attractive, deeply sexy. She always has been.

But as Victor takes in her smirk, her hand resting casually on her stomach, her too-innocent blink…

He knows that something is different. Since he broke the mating bond, something has irrevocably changed. The desire that used to course through his veins, drawing him to her? It’s no longer there.

Instead, if he searches for it, it’s pulling him in a totally different direction now. Towards home.

“Hello, Amelia,” Victor says, unbuttoning his suitcoat as he takes his seat. A waitress places a menu in front of him, but he doesn’t open it.

“Hello, baby,” Amelia purrs, putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward to rest her chin on her crossed hands. “I’ve missed you.”

Victor stares at her for a moment, considering. As he does, a waiter brings over a glass of iced tea and places it next to his plate. Victor glances at it as the waiter walks away.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Amelia says, giving him a slow smile. “I remember what you like.”

“That’s enough, Amelia,” Victor says, giving her a stony stare. “I’ve come to lunch, as you’ve asked.

Now tell me.”

“What about you?” Ian asks, looking down at her from his spot on the back of the couch.

“Ohhh, baby,” she says, smiling. “Don’t rush it. You have to give the paparazzi some time to work.” Her eyes flick out the window and Victor resists the urge to turn and look. The fact that she’s welcoming the press just furthers his conviction that this is more publicity stunt than reality.

“Ohhh, baby,” she says, smiling. “Don’t rush it. You have to give the paparazzi some time to work.” Her eyes flick out the window and Victor resists the urge to turn and look. The fact that she’s welcoming the press just furthers his conviction that this is more publicity stunt than reality.

“Amelia,” he says, his voice low in warning. “Tell me the truth, once and for all. Are you pregnant with my child?”

She sits back in her chair, her hand again going maternally to her stomach like an expectant mother.

“I might be,” she says, lifting her drink off the table and taking a sip.

Victor smirks, leaning forward, calling her bluff. Amelia never plays it coy if she knows she has an ace up her sleeve. “You’re not,” he says, his smile widening.

Amelia glares at him, a bit miffed to have her lie called like that. She had wanted to drag out the game a little longer. She puts down her glass and doubles down.

“I am too Victor,” she says. “And unless you give me what I want, I’m going to keep this child from you forever.”

He laughs in her face. “You’re not, Amelia. I can see it in your face.”

She glares at him, shocked, a little, by her lack of power in the situation. When they had been mated, she had been able to wrap him around her finger. But perhaps there was something in that bond, some trust or some power, which she had counted on working in her favor today. And now that it was gone…

Still, she’s too far in now. “I am pregnant, Victor. And I’m going to have this child – you can’t convince me to –“

“Amelia,” he growls. “Cut it out. This is over. I checked with the doctor – the one prescribing birth control pills for Angelina Van Horten.” He sneers a little at the name. “His pharmacy filled your script regularly in the months before the wedding.”

Amelia twists her mouth to the side, frustrated that he knows about this. Damn Annabeth Porter for not keeping the information secret – Amelia had counted on her silence.

“Fine,” Amelia growls and then quickly looks over her shoulder, signaling the waiter. When he comes over, she orders a glass of wine to accompany her meal. When it’s delivered, she takes a long gulp.

“Good,” Victor says, pleased that the charade is over. He moves the conversation forward, despite her glare.

“What’s it going to take, Amelia,” Victor asks, “to get you to stop messing with my family, my business?

To stop going to the press with all of this ridiculous click-bait?”

“Only one thing is going to stop me, Victor,” Amelia hisses. “And that’s you giving me my life back.”