Not to mention one measly little human woman.
I never asked to be here. He’s the one who basically kidnapped me. So he’s stuck with me. He wanted to be my goddamned Master? Well, he can’t just bugger off from the role whenever he feels like it.
I stomp up the stairs. Another brief little cramp hits and I grab my abdomen as I go. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about the fact that I’m probably bleeding all over my underwear.
He’s got the damn tampons. Another reason to break his stupid door down if I have to. I don’t exactly know how I’ll accomplish that… but never underestimate the power of a pissed off woman!
I pound on his door repeatedly with a closed fist.
“Open up, goddamn you,” I yell. “I’ve got cramps which means I’m getting my period, and if you don’t open this door, so help me God, I’ll—”
The door swings open before I can complete my threat. A good thing because I don’t know exactly how I was going to finish that sentence.
Xavier looks like shit.
Pale, gaunt, and unshaven. His hair is unwashed and wild and is that… whisky? He stinks like some sort of strong alcohol. His eyes are bloodshot with it.
He immediately reaches for me, dragging me inside the room.
“Wait, I—”
He lays me down on the bed and draws down my jeans. Then, to my utter embarrassment, he examines my underwear. It’s one of those situations where I want to cover my face, but I’m curious, so I look down. There are just a couple spots of red on my panties.
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His face comes up, strained and alarmed.
“I’m probably just starting,” I explain, feeling my face heat. “It’s light at the beginning.”
He turns away and goes to his desk. He wakes up his laptop and then quickly types in his password. I pull my underwear back up and then sit on the bed, looking over his shoulder. He’s pulled up a calendar. From the bed, I can see the title of the large calendar reads, Melanie’s Cycle.
My mouth drops open. Holy crap, he’s charting my… That’s just—
“Your period should have started three days ago.” He turns back to look at me. “You’ve always been very regular. Your records said so.”
Oh my God, there’s just so much to unpack there. He’s said from the start that he had access to my records, but I guess it was never confirmed before now that he actually somehow hacked or got access to my freaking medical records. How the hell did he—
And then there’s the part about how my period was supposed to have started several days ago. Because he’s right. I’m one of those rare women who’s like clockwork. Every 28 days. You can set your calendar by it.
If I’m late, then that means…
I blink, looking down at my abdomen.
Xavier’s light-years ahead of me, because he’s already on the phone, barking out orders. “Drop everything and get out here as soon as possible. No, I don’t want to hear excuses. I pay so I can be your first priority. I expect you here within 45 minutes. Take the goddamned chopper if you have to!” He slams the phone down.
Then he’s rushing back over to me. “I’m so sorry. Lie down. God, lie down.”
He urges me onto my back on the bed, then he lifts shaking hands toward my belly. He stops just before making contact, though.
“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath and runs his hand through his hair instead. For a brief second, tortured eyes come up to meet mine, full of regret and self-recrimination. Then he gets up and turns away. He stalks off toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t slam it at least. Moments later, I hear the spray of the shower.
I drop my head back to the bed, my mind swirling a hundred miles an hour.
Could I really be pregnant?
Even thinking the word freaks me the hell out. Maybe I’m late because of all the extra farm work I’ve been doing. Don’t like, athletes miss their period sometimes because of all the strain on their bodies?
Except that even when I did crew in college and worked out for four hours a day on the weekends, I was still regular as clockwork.