Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

He collects his things and strides away. I wonder how much more poison my love for him can take.

I need a new plan. I need to get the hell out of here, once and for all. I’ve been on this yacht for weeks and—

Mikhail, Ciara and Damir are pushed out of my mind as a horrified, feminine thought overtakes me. When did I last get my period?

I hurry back to our room and swipe the packet of contraception bills from my bedside table and study it. I haven’t had my period on this yacht. It was back in London, two weeks before Damir abducted me. Ice floods my veins as I realize I’m late. Very late, and I’m never late. I took the sugar pills over a week ago, but I didn’t bleed. What with the happiness and relief after Damir finished things with Navarro, I didn’t even notice.

Maybe it’s stress. I’m sure I’ve read that stress can disrupt your cycle. I won’t panic. I’ll just come off the pill now and my period will start in a day or two.

I put the packet down and make myself take a deep breath, but it’s as if there’s a giant rubber band restricting my chest. I can’t be pregnant. We had unprotected sex a few times, yes, but I took the morning after pill, for crying out loud, and then straight onto the contraceptive pill. With all those artificial hormones circling through my body I shouldn’t have been in any state to conceive.

And yet, where’s my goddamn period?

I start breathing too hard and fast. I can’t get enough oxygen. I’m carrying a murderer’s baby and he’s about to kill his brother. He’s already killed his father. What if he kills his child, too?

I clutch the edge of the vanity, trying to get a grip on myself. I’m not going to die and I’m not pregnant. I’m just hyperventilating and freaking out. How tempting it is to lose control right now and sink down into oblivion on the floor.

“Bethany?”

A large hand reaches out and clamps onto my shoulder. I know its weight. I know its danger, and it splinters the last of my self-control.

“Get off me!” I lash out at Damir, shoving him away from me, and run out of the bedroom and as far from him as I can. Which isn’t anywhere near far enough.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Damir

That evening, I find that Bethany has barricaded herself in the bedroom with the furniture and doesn’t emerge for dinner. I end up sleeping in one of the guest cabins. In the morning, I sit at breakfast for several hours, reading the news and drinking coffee, one ear listening out for footsteps.

Finally, she emerges, her arms wrapped tightly around her body and squinting in the late morning light.

I stand up quickly and go to her. “My love, you’re pale.”

“Where are we?” she asks in a croaky voice, staring around.

“Between Crete and the Libya–Egypt border. We’ll be passing through the Suez Canal tonight.”

Her eyes widen. “Already? I thought… How long will it take to reach Mikhail and Ciara? Where are they?”

“In the Seychelles. If we don’t get held up at the canal we’ll be there in three days.”

“Three days,” she whispers, her eyes wide with horror. She passes a shaking hand across her face, and even her lips become bloodless. “When did the world get so small?”

Her glassy eyes stare into the middle distance. She doesn’t just look worried, she looks unwell.

I take her hand and put my other arm around her waist, supporting her body. “Come and eat. You’ll make yourself ill.”

“I’m not hungry,” she protests, but seems too weak to put up any resistance.

“Yes, you are.” I place her firmly in a seat at the table.

She looks around at the food. There’s a sheen of sweat on her brow, though the morning is cool. “I think I feel queasy. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all in my mind.”

“What’s all in your mind?”

She bites down on her lip and looks away. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was seasick, but the yacht has never affected her before now. It must be the thought of Mikhail that’s making her ill.

“He left you behind,” I snarl, my stomach churning. I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick as well. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The thought of revenge is usually soothing. At the mention of his name, Bethany flinches like I’ve hit her.