The Dollhouse (24 page)

Maybe I've miscarried, I thought with a wild desperation. I'd read somewhere that more than half of pregnancies end in the first few weeks, a lot of times before the woman even realized she'd conceived. I hadn't had a period in weeks, but that might not mean anything because they'd always been irregular.

By some miracle, I could get up on that table and the doctor wouldn't be able to find any sign of life in my womb, even with all of their fancy equipment. I could walk out of this clinic and forget this all ever happened.

When have you ever been that lucky?

"Moreno?" A nurse wearing baby-blue scrubs called, reading my name off of the clipboard in her hand.

I stood slowly and Miranda got up with me. I thought about asking her to wait out here but I knew she'd fight me on it and it wasn't worth the fallout. Plus, did I really want to go through with this alone?

The nurse raised her eyebrows when Miranda followed me through the door to the hallway of exam rooms, but whatever she was thinking she kept to herself.

"You're here in room 2," she said after weighing me on an old scale in the hallway. "The doctor will be into see you in a few minutes."

Miranda took the chair in the corner and I hoisted myself onto the exam table, the rough paper they'd put over it scratchy against my skin. The door closed behind the nurse and I let out a shaky breath.

"Are you nervous?" Miranda asked.

"No," I lied. "It is what it is."

She picked up a pamphlet, simply labeled
You Have Options...
and flipped through it. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"I've been trying pretty hard not to do much thinking," I admitted. "Kind of a one day at a time thing."

"That's stupid," she said sternly. "You're going to have to make a decision soon."

I looked down at my hands where they clenched together in my lap. "You make it sound a lot easier than it actually is."

"I don't mean to," she said carefully. "It's hard. This is probably the hardest damn decision that you'll ever have to make, but it might also be the most important."

Something in her tone alerted me and I studied her careful expression. I knew she'd been married once, to a Vegas card dealer, but they'd never had any kids. Miranda had never talked about having kids.

I finally asked the question, my voice so soft that she could pretend not to hear it. "Have you had to make this decision before?"

She took so long to answer that I thought she would refuse, but then her voice came as carefully soft as mine. "Yes."

I waited for her to elaborate, but after a long moment curiosity overcame my hesitation. "What did you do?"

Miranda's very serious gaze met mine, more somber than I'd ever seen it. "It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to pry."

She cleared her throat and set the pamphlet back in its stand. "Women always bear the responsibility in these kind of situations. It isn't fair, or right, but that's just the way it is. You have to make the decision that feels right for you, whatever that happens to be."

A loud knock sounded on the door before I could think of a reply. A moment later, the door opened and a female doctor in a lab coat and Chuck sneakers stepped into the room.

"I'm Dr. Stacey," she said, brightly. "Are you Dalea?”

"Yes," I responded, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Is this your mom?" The doctor asked, indicating Miranda.

"My friend."

"Great, is it okay with you if she stays during the exam."

I glanced over at Miranda who had a look on her face that said I wouldn't like what happened if I forced her to leave. "It's fine."

Dr. Stacey had long blonde hair caught up in a bun at the back of her neck and I caught a glimpse of the Rolling Stones t-shirt she wore under her lab coat when she turned.

"So what brings you in today?” she asked pleasantly.

I swallowed hard. "I'm pregnant."

"Alright." I appreciated that she didn't pretend to congratulate me, my face likely making it clear that this wasn't a happy occasion. "About how far along do you think you are."

"I'm not sure."

"Do you remember when you had your last period."

"Like a month and half ago, but they've always been irregular."

She jotted something down on the pad of paper in her hand before setting it down. Behind her was a small machine that looked like it was hooked up to a television set on a rolling cart.

"I'm going to get an ultrasound so we can confirm your pregnancy and see how far along you are. Go ahead and lay back on the table and lift up your shirt."

I complied quickly and laid back, the exam table hard and cold underneath me. Dr. Stacey picked up a bottle and squirted a clear jelly onto my bare stomach. I jumped a little at the sudden burst of cold.

"Sorry about that.”

She picked up a thick wand wrapped in plastic and pressed it into the skin of my belly, before rolling it around.

I gripped the edges of the table, not out of pain because she wasn't pressing that hard, but out of fearful anticipation as I waited for her to make sense of the murky picture on the screen that looked like a lava lamp in grayscale.

"Okay, there's the heartbeat." She pointed to a tiny flutter at the center of the screen. She used her free hand to grab the computer mouse and clicked it a few times. “And the amniotic sac is here. Judging by the size, it looks like you're about eight weeks along."

My heart beat hard enough inside of my chest that I thought I might pass out. I stared up at the ceiling, but there was no solace in the florescent light that flickered slightly above me.

Dr. Stacey continued talking as she returned the wand to its holder and snapped off her gloves. "You'll need to be seen again in about four weeks for follow-up, if you're planning on continuing the pregnancy."

If you're planning on continuing the pregnancy...

I turned to my head so I could face her as the awful reality of the situation settled over me. "What do you mean, if I'm planning to continue?”

Dr. Stacey crossed her legs as she turned back in her chair and the cast of her face was very carefully neutral. I wondered if that was something they'd taught her in medical school — how to deal with pregnant tramps. "You're still in your first trimester, so termination is still an option. As is adoption or keeping the baby."

"Is that something you do here...terminate?"

"Yes. The procedure requires an additional appointment for required counseling and an evaluation. But we do perform abortions here, yes."

Could I do it? It would make things so much easier in the short term, but it was also the sort of decision that you carried with you forever. It marked you, even if it was in a place that only you could see.

"You still have a little time to think it over," Dr. Stacey added. "We'll schedule you a follow-up appointment for four weeks from today and you'll need to have made a decision by then. Do you have any questions?"

I shook my head, unable to think enough to say whether I had questions or not, but not wanting to force her to wait for my brain to come around.

"Alright, well make sure to keep taking prenatal vitamins and we'll see you in four weeks. It was nice to meet you, Dalea."

I smiled wanly as the doctor stood and left the room. She didn't seem that dramatically older than me, maybe five years at the most. But I bet Dr. Stacey hadn't made any of the stupid mistakes that I had. Dr. Stacey would never be sitting where I was sitting.

Miranda waited until the doctor left to speak, but I could tell from the tone of her voice that she had just barely kept herself reined in. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Not really," I said, feeling dejected. "I just want to crawl under a rock and stay there for the rest of my life."

"What about the father — Julian — are you going to tell him?"

"No." I was firm on that. "This doesn't have anything to do with him."

"It is his baby. You don't think he at least has the right to voice an opinion."

"He doesn't voice opinions, he gives orders. It's just better this way." I had to make a clean break from Julian, baby or not. Dragging him back into my life over this wouldn't be doing either of us any favors.

She regarded me steadily, her expression pensive. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but I had a feeling that I wouldn't like it if I did. "Maybe think about it for a little bit, like the doctor said."

I inched off of the table and reached for my purse, ready to be done with this place — at least for the next four weeks. "I don't have to think about it. I'm not telling Julian about the baby because I'm not going to ever talk to him again."

She didn't respond as we walked back to the waiting room, but I knew she wasn't going to drop it. It didn't matter what she thought. Julian and I were done and it would take a lot more than a baby to change that.

I
pushed
into the empty apartment, feeling exhausted. Today was my longest day of classes and I'd had to get up at dawn to catch the bus if I wanted to get to my 8:00 am class on time.

On top of that, no matter how much sleep I got each night I was just tired all of the time. To the point that I could fall asleep standing against a wall if given the opportunity.

It was strange to think that a fetus the size of a half-dollar could zap this much of my energy. I could only imagine what it would be like when the thing was full-sized.

I abandoned that thought as quickly as I could, still unsure if I was going to let it get that far.

I flipped on the light in the living room and padded through the messy space. It was strange to be in the apartment alone. I never seemed to get any alone time anymore with all of us living on top of each other. Luis was working at the diner until late and Momma had taken Lucy to the Christmas recital at her school which wouldn't end for another hour.

I had planned to change clothes after class was over and go too, but now that I was home all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.

Grabbing a towel off of the hook in my room, I headed to the bathroom. I was determined to stay awake long enough for a quick shower. I hated going to bed dirty.

The shower spray was hot and felt amazing on my tired muscles. One good thing I could say about our crappy apartment was that we had decent water pressure. I'd never appreciated it as much as I did in that moment.

When I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped into the dark hallway, I immediately knew that something was wrong. I took slow and careful steps towards the living room, my heart beating hard in my chest as I took deep and deliberate breaths.

I had turned off the light, but the streetlamp outside the open window cast enough light to dimly illuminate the room.

The air in the room was thick and heavy — shared. I knew I wasn't alone.

"Hello, Dalea."

I let out an involuntary shriek as Julian stepped out of the shadows next to the door. I glared at him in the dark, even as my heart beat a staccato rhythm in my chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked on a gasping breath.

"It's nice to see you again, too."

He flipped on the light and the sudden brightness left me blinking owlishly. His expression was drawn and dark as he regarded me and I realized quickly that the only thing between us was the thin towel that I wore.

"Get out."

He cocked his head to the side, like a hawk sighting a mouse scurrying through the grass. "No."

I couldn't stop the shiver that ran through me. "What do you want?"

He stared at me, gaze moving leisurely up my body as if he had every right to the view. I gripped the towel tighter around myself.

"Sit," he said.

I steeled myself against the silken command, refusing to let him bring us back into the same pattern. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore."

"Please, sit," he offered.

"I'm going to get dressed," I said, in a tone that I hoped brooked no argument, but I half-expected him to follow me when I backed out of the room. He stayed perfectly still, obviously confident in the knowledge that I had nowhere to run.

I dressed quickly, knowing that deliberately testing his patience wouldn't work out in my favor. I couldn't quite believe that he was here: indignation, fear and desire warred for dominance inside of me. I prayed for the strength to deny whatever he'd come here to ask of me.

The jeans and plain t-shirt that I'd picked out hung limply in my fingers as I contemplated what to do. I knew how frumpy and inelegant a picture I made in my loose jeans and ratty shirt. I'd loss weight in the last few weeks. Nausea from the pregnancy and the constant stress that set a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach had done nothing for my appetite.

I tossed away the clothes and reached for a thick skirt and sweater that had been a Christmas present from Miranda the year before. It was cashmere and soft against my skin.

It wasn't for him, I told myself as I pinched my cheeks to put some sort of color back in my pale skin. He always had me in such a position of weakness, completely disarmed. I needed to get even the smallest amount of power back and looking presentable was the only way I could think to accomplish that goal on short notice.

When I reentered the living room and shut the bedroom door behind me, I found him still standing by the door where he'd been when I left the room. Could it be possible that he was uneasy as I was, or was this just another mind game he hoped to use to control me?

"Talk," I said, cursing the slight shudder in my voice. "You have five minutes."

He didn't answer immediately, just regarded me with eyes that were dark and swirling with the thoughts and emotion he refused to give a voice.

What did he want?

"I don't have all night," I said finally, the fear of what was to come finally pushing me to bravado.

He shoved himself off the wall and strode toward me. I shrank back against my bedroom door, the unexpected violence of the movement sending dramatic thoughts spiraling through my mind.

He stopped a mere foot from me and his hand reached out to coast over the front of my sweater in a touch so light that I could barely feel it.

"Is it true?" he asked, voice clipped.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Harsh fingers wrapped around my upper arms as he yanked me towards him. Our bodies met in a crash as he molded us together in one harsh movement. I could feel the heat of him like a furnace that threatened to burn me alive.

"Julian—“

His body loomed over me, his height seeming more exaggerated than it ever had before. I could feel his breath tease along the shell of my ear as he spoke.

"Is there something that you would like to tell me?"

He knows.
The realization was like a flaming arrow piercing me at the very center of my heart. A frantic denial formed on the tip of my tongue as my mind whirred out of control.

"Don't you dare lie to me."

Which was exactly what I had planned to do.

"Get off me," I snapped.

His grip on me shifted and for a surprised moment I thought he was going to comply. Instead, he pulled me roughly forward and spun me around until I was pressed against the door to my bedroom. The wood felt rough under the skin of my cheek. He moved forward until I was trapped between the hardness of his chest and the unyielding surface of the door.

Julian's hands gripped me so tightly that I knew it would leave marks in the shape of his fingers on my skin. An involuntary shudder ran through me at the thought.

"You have one chance to be completely honest with me," he growled, in a voice that I'd never heard before. "Are you pregnant?"

I froze underneath him as silence descended, broken only by his deep breathing and the frantic beat of my heart. This couldn't be happening, how could he possibly know?

"Fuck you." I tried to pull away but I would have had more luck trying to move a block of granite. "I don't have to tell you anything?"

His fingers tangled hard in my hair, twisting the strands and pulling hard until I had to crane my neck back to keep it from being ripped out at the root. "Last chance, Dalea."

"Fine, yes. I'm pregnant. Now get off of me."

To my surprise, he immediately retreated. His hands fell to his sides as he backed away. I turned back to him, trying to quiet the breathless gasps coming from my throat. The retreat was only an illusion, temporarily giving me what I wanted as a reward for doing what he told me to do. I knew what those hands were capable of.

Julian adjusted the cuffs of the suit he wore in a casual movement. But the gaze he leveled on me was anything but refined, it was frankly predatory.

"How did you know?" I asked, proud of myself for keeping the waver out of my voice.

"Your friend, Miranda. She called my office."

I silently cursed. I should have know that Miranda would have taken it on herself to involve Julian when I'd refused. Clearly, she was willing to let me make my own decisions except when it came to letting a man know about the child he had helped bring into the world. I shouldn't have been surprised, she'd made her unhappiness very clear.

She couldn't have known that he would show up like this.

"You still haven't told me what you want," I said finally.

"It isn't obvious?"

Something in his voice made my eyes drop to the waistline of his pants, where the clear bulge of his erection was obvious. I blushed and looked away.

"Close, but not quite.” The amusement was obvious in his voice, but when my gaze rose to his face, the eyes that stared into me were as hard as glass. "I want it."

"No and absolutely not." I was proud of my voice for not shaking. "You don't have a say in this."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?"

"You sent me away, remember. What was it you said —
if you walk away, don't ever come back.
I took you at your word. It's time to hold up your end of the bargain." I could feel the yearning part of my heart scream a negative, begging me to throw myself into his arms and never let go. But I didn't want him like this.

"I could force you."

"How?" I asked, genuinely curious through the heartache. "Are you going to tie me up and drag me away — lock me up until I give birth? Drive me mad with loneliness until I kill myself like your wife did?"

He glared at me, nostrils flaring.

"Did I strike a nerve?"

Julian turned and went for the door, his voice icy and clipped as he spoke over his shoulder. "You aren't keeping me from my child."

I knew I should let him go, but the tiny part of me that was still immune to pride had to know. "Why? Why do you want the baby? I thought you didn't believe in love."

His shoulders hunched inward, as if he'd been hit and his body reacted to the pain of it. But that couldn't be true, could it? He'd made it clear that I didn't have any ability to hurt him.

"Tell me why you want the baby," I softly urged. It took an effort to keep my voice from breaking. "You don't want me, you don't love me. Make me understand. Why would you want my child?"

A shiver rocked through him. I waited — barely able to breathe — wondering if this would be when I finally got what I had spent so much time waiting for. If this would be when his walls finally came down.

Julian turned abruptly and surged towards me, the movement one of only barely restrained violence. He was on top of me in the blink of an eye.

His hands roved over my body, coasting up the simple skirt and catching in the soft cashmere of my sweater. My mouth opened, to speak or moan I couldn't say, because his lips caught mine in a harsh kiss that seared me to the bone.

I wanted to shove him away, deride him for thinking that he still had a right to touch me, but I couldn't. The feel of him against me was the crackling of electricity through a live wire. I pushed my body against his and melted into his kiss. I didn't care that it would probably burn me alive.

When he pulled away, Julian traced the trail of a tear that had fallen down my cheek.

"What is it?" he asked, almost soft enough to ease the pang in my chest.

"I love you," I said. "I can't settle for anything less in return."

Julian pulled away completely, that word enough to break the spell that our bodies cast over each other. He wouldn't say it, whether because he didn't feel it or couldn't admit to feeling it didn't matter.

"You won't be able to stop me," he said.

"And you can't force me." I replied firmly, confident in the statement. There wasn't a court in the world that could force a woman to give birth to a child that she didn't want. And if I did decide to have the baby, I refused to subject it to life with a man who wasn't capable of feeling anything but a sense of ownership.

"Don't be so sure," he murmured and the grim certainty in his voice forced a shiver to run down my spine.

His gaze strayed to the slight curve of my belly that was hidden by the generous fall of my sweater. I wasn't showing yet, but he knew my body well enough to be cued to even the slightest change.

"Do you really want to take this fight public? How would that look?" I only had one card left to play, but I was done being controlled by him. "CEO of Berkmore Global impregnates the woman that he's been paying for sex. The media would eat up every deal — the Dollhouse, the fake job as an intern at your company. And just wait until they find out about the whips and chains. Is that really what you want?"

His expression darkened. "Are you threatening me?"

"Let's just call it mutually-assured destruction."

I thought he would yell or threaten, but the look that descended over his face was cold and calculating.

"Mutually-assured destruction," he repeated. "It's been that since the beginning."

He shoved me back against the wall, bruising my skin with the force of the impact. His mouth descended to the skin of my neck, sucking hard, as his hands moved over the front of my body.

And I let him, weak as I was. My sweater was pulled over my head and quickly tossed to the floor and my skirt followed only moments later. The hands I brought to the front of his shirt with the intention of pushing him away gripped the fabric instead and pulled him closer.

"My family—“ I gasped as his mouth roved over the sensitive skin of my jaw. "They're coming back soon."

"Then I suggest you come quickly."

And then his searching fingers found their way under the waist of my panties, gliding over the heated flesh with unerring accuracy. He pushed two fingers inside of me, not waiting to see if I was ready for him.

"So wet," he growled, the sound vibrating against my neck. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," I gasped. The words spilled from my lips against my will and I couldn't stop them. My body knew what I wanted, even as my mind rushed to keep up. "Please fuck me."

"Please fuck me what?"

"Please fuck me,
sir.
"