Chapter 42 Forty Two
OWEN WINTERS
I sat on the couch staring at the blank screen of my phone, my mind far away from the present. Since Amy showed up in Paris, I hadn't been myself — in a good way though. Father had called so much the past weeks and his calls were forwarded. I didn't have the time for him and the tasks I was supposed to carry out as the heir to the house of the Winters.
My mind couldn't get enough of Amelia Xavier and that was dangerous especially with the marriage proposals going on. If the news heard about it, the whole plan would be jeopardized and the Winters would lose so many allies. But then staying away from her was something I could never do.
Never.
After so many years of avoidance and being told what to do… so many years of being sent on deathly missions, I finally, by coincidence or by fate stumbled upon Amelia.
My phone beeped bringing me back to reality, I stared at the caller ID.
No username.
Why the fuck was this guy calling me?
“Hel…”
“You decided to neglect your duties, Owen Winters, what has gotten into you!” Father's deep voice roared over the phone and I knew he was consumed by anger.
I don't care.
“The Gates seek an audience with you… more like a date with their only daughter, yes?” He said, his voice calmer than usual or was pleased that that was the only right thing I ever achieved — Getting hooked up with an ally.
The Gates were powerful and helped ship arms down to Russia and other parts of the world especially since the Russian Mafia never found favour with the French mafia.
“Of course father, when will that be?” I asked, saying a short prayer that the day wouldn't end up on when I was to meet with Amy.
“Tomorrow.”
“Merde!” I cursed over the phone. This wasn't happening.
It is.
“Are you going to decline?” Father asked although he knew I would never. The proposal meant a lot to the house.
“I'll be there, send the address, is it the usual place up in the city?”
“Germany,” he replied and before I could exclaim, he hung up. I threw the phone on the couch to the left and it bounced its way to the floor letting out a cracking sound.
Oh shit.
The trip to Germany took about two and a half hours and before we got to our destination, it clocked three hours. Father and I sat on the seat in the restaurant waiting for the Gates. I massaged my fingers with my thumb, trying so hard to focus on the reason I was here seated with my father.
More power.
“Ahhh, Mr Winters, you're younger than you were in your youth!” Someone exclaimed moving towards us at extreme speed.
Mr Lyon Gates.
He was followed behind by his daughter, one whom I spent a night with and turned out to be someone who I was to marry.
Father laughed, embracing him. “Well, look who we have here! You're taller than you were back in middle school.” The two laughed, their laughter rich and in unison.
I could never. I wondered if the two were actually friends or just acquaintances because the slight insults were laughed away like it was usual.
“Bonjour, how're you doing sir?” I asked standing, he patted my shoulders and nodded as we sat back checking out the menu.
That feeling one got when someone stared for too long, it felt like daggers sent towards you, to only give you multiple cuts but not to kill you. I could tell Lucille Gates stole glances at me and probably expected the same, but although we weren't fighting, I wasn't going to give her the pleasure of being happy.
“I expected you both earlier, but that doesn't matter, does it? We're here after all,” Mr Lyon started ringing for the waiter.
“There was a little air traffic, but it probably has been fixed,” I replied pointing to my order on the menu.
When I decided I had tortured the young girl enough, I looked up at her, but she looked away.
Our order came, but as tradition, we took only the drinks — one of the perks of being rich. “How're you doing, Lucille?” I asked, but she looked at her drink as though it were her saviour. I could tell the innocent girl wanted to disappear.
“Can't you speak up? Your fiance is speaking to you!” Mr Lyon flared, his eyes blood red. Lucille shuddered… She was scared of him.
I got irritated, after all, wasn't I the one getting married?
“Don't speak to her that way. I asked the question and if my fiance doesn't want to respond, it's fine by me,” I objected, calmly sipping my spirit.
Father eyed me, his gaze could kill me a hundred times if it were possible. Thank God.
Mr Lyon cleared his throat and gulped down his spirit. “We should leave the both of you here, you know, to get along,” he suggested dragging father along.
When they finally left, I watched her as she timidly took a bite from her order. “You like it, don't you, sweetheart?” I asked, a smirk plastered on my lips.
She said nothing.
“I know you don't want this marriage, and honestly I don't either. Everything in this world is business, even love, darling you have to understand that, yes?” I said, my eyes fixed on hers. She had beautiful freckles and blue bold eyes that quivered and spilled all her emotions.
She was sweet, but not my type.
“That night was a mistake…” she stuttered, this time she played with her food. “I know love, we all make mistakes, don't we and I can tell how in love you look right now, but not with me…”
My phone rang, I looked at it.
PUMPKIN.
Amy…
“Excuse me, I have to take this,” I said and stood to move away from her hearing.
“Hey pumpkin, I'm busy, why did you…”
“I'm pregnant.”
“What… did you say?” I asked to be sure.
“I'm pregnant,” she said again. My phone fell to the floor. This was the third phone. I didn't care.
“I need to go home.”
AMELIA XAVIER
Why was I feeling nauseous all of a sudden? The smell of the restaurant food I ordered made my stomach churn — I spat it out.
I laid curled up in bed, my head pounded and even after taking pills, nothing worked
Maybe I should run a test or something… .
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I affirmed going to the cabinet to take another pill.
This is wrong.
I popped the pill into my mouth even though the smell was strangely unbearable and downed it with water, but before digestion started its usual business, all the content in my stomach felt like it was boiling, it threatened to spill out. I rushed to the toilet and let it all out.
Suddenly, I became aware of everything around me, the buzzing fly as it peacefully found its way out the window, the sound of my stomach as it churned and even the movement of my eyes. My senses played with me.
“I should see a doctor,” I muttered to myself calling a cab since I couldn't drive.
“You're pregnant.”
What the fuck was this lady saying?
“I'm what?” I asked again.
“You're two weeks pregnant,” she said unprofessionally, I didn't blame her, I would get impatient too. Her eyes judged me, but that wasn't part of my problem.
I came to Paris to prove my worth, to show father that I was capable of his business, but here I was holding my stomach and regretting every fucked up pleasure I had in Paris.
Maybe I should take the baby out… or I should call Owen.
I picked my phone from the small hospital table and dialled his number.
He answered on the first ring and I broke down subconsciously.
“Hey pumpkin, I'm busy, why did you…”
“I'm pregnant,” I said, tears wanting to choke me. Where did it even come from?
“What… did you say?”
He doesn't want it.
“I'm pregnant,” I said again and then, I heard nothing else.