Chapter 54 A Taste of My Sugar

Chapter 54 A Taste of My Sugar
I leaned over to take my glass from the table next to my lounge chair as I watched Ricardo put his clothes back on.
I felt good, but I also felt a little disquieted inside, which was strange. Lately, I had been discovering that, even though I was getting everything that I wanted, nothing ever felt quite as satisfying as it should have, and I couldn't figure out why.
Just a few months ago, I had been nothing, a nobody, just another unremarkable student on a busy campus. I was now the mistress of a vast estate, and I had a billionaire eating out of the palm of my hand.
So why did it feel like I was moving backward instead of forward? I should've been thrilled to be in the position I was, and yet part of me missed my boring life at school.
Perhaps it was all the hormones that were making me feel such mixed-up emotions. About a week later, when Doctor Jaffers came by for my monthly check-up, the little man was acting more squirrely than ever.
I tried to get him to tell me the results of my examination, but he just shook his head and refused to tell me anything. That certainly made me angry, but I had to wait for several days for Malcolm to return from a business trip to find out what was going on.
"Everything alright, darling?" I asked him as we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in the dining room.
"Yes," said Malcolm, giving me a warm smile. "Well, actually, there is something that I wanted to discuss with you."
"I knew it!" I said. "It was Doctor Jaffers, wasn't it? I never did trust that man."
"He comes highly recommended," said Malcolm. "And the truth is, well, he's worried about your pregnancy."
"Worried? Why?" I said. "I've never been healthier in my life! I swear, that little troll, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind the next time I see him."
"It's just that..." said Malcolm, setting down his coffee on the fine china saucer. "Well, he said you should be showing by now. But your stomach is still flat."
"Seriously?" I said, feeling my anger levels rising. "He's got the nerve to criticize me just because I've been taking care of myself? Ugh! Anyway, you should know my mother was the same way when she had me."
"Ah," said Malcolm. "Well that settles it then, doesn't it?"
"Indeed," I said, although I was still fuming.
Alas, that feeling of irritation continued long after Malcolm retired to his office to make some phone calls. I bitterly resented that stupid doctor coming into my house and his poking and prying. What did he know about pregnancies, anyway? He was a man. And even if Malcolm trusted Dr. Jeffers, that didn't mean I did.
But then it occurred to me that maybe I wasn't pregnant after all. I certainly hadn't felt any of the classic signs, although I just chalked that up to being a late bloomer like my mother. I'd tried talking to her about it, but she'd been so groggy from her medication that she couldn't keep up with the conversation, meaning once again I was on my own.
Regardless of what some stupid doctor said, I could feel that I was pregnant. After all, despite Malcolm's occasional mental lapses, he was as strong and as virile as a stallion. Surely, his seed had blossomed inside of me.
But just to be sure, I decided to sleep with him again. Yes, that would put to rest any lingering doubts that he had, and I would get to continue on with my reign as mistress of the estate.
With that settled, my mood instantly brightened. Malcolm had promised me he'd be around for the next week, so I had plenty of time to make my move. Ever since we'd come to our agreement, he'd been treating me as if I were some fragile little flower, which was nice most of the time, but it also meant that he hadn't laid a hand on me.
What I needed to do was find the right balance so that he'd get riled up and want to put his hands on me, but not so triggered that he had another breakdown.
I had a lot of fun devising different ways in my head to get a rise out of Malcolm. Perhaps I could parade around in a revealing outfit. Or maybe I could act flirty with one of the wait staff in front of him during mealtime.
I even considered putting on one of those long flowy dresses that he liked so much, although I rejected that idea on account of how much they reminded me of the painful period when I'd been locked up in that room.
In the end, I decided to let nature take its course instead of planning it out. Malcolm often indulged in a cognac or two after dinner, especially if he didn't have to jet off somewhere the next day. I'd wait until I could see that he was in the sweet spot between relaxed and sleepy, and then I'd make my move.
Just thinking about seeing that old spark in his eyes got me tingling all over. I had such fond memories of that first night when I'd tripped over the planter and landed on his lap.
That was the first moment when the two of us realized there was a special connection between us. Maybe I should pretend to trip over something to give me an excuse to be on his lap again, and then his natural masculine instincts would take over.
It was so exciting to think about these things that I could scarcely get to sleep. I kept turning over in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but I was just too fired up to relax.
If I could somehow thread the needle and get the good Malcolm to come back, the stern yet wise daddy who was slightly displeased with his daughter, then everything would be wonderful again. But I needed him to stay sweet so we could have that closure I so badly craved, not another torture session in the barn.
It took a while, but eventually my overheated mind finally decided to take a break, and then I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt fine until I sat up, and then a wave of nausea hit me. It was so intense that I barely had time to make it to the bathroom before the contents of last night's meal came rushing out of me.
After my stomach was finally purged, I washed my face and then took a seat on the edge of the bathtub, trying to parse out what had just happened.
Was it a case of food poisoning? That didn't seem likely, although I had eaten quite a lot of lobster. I knew raw seafood could make you sick, but the lobster had been properly cooked. Had one of the staff slipped something into my food?
It was certainly possible. I knew some of them still resented me even though they dared not show it to my face. Yet poisoning my food seemed a little extreme. Anyway, why now and not weeks earlier when I'd been in a more vulnerable position?
Either way, I certainly couldn't let it go. After I got cleaned up and dressed, I resolved to have the cook fired. Even if it wasn't his fault that I'd gotten nauseous, losing his job would make the others think twice about crossing me. Yes, it was the perfect solution. After all, I was the mistress of this house, and it was good to remind the staff of that once in a while.
Of course, Malcolm might not be too happy because he'd hired the man away from a Michelin-starred restaurant. But I had a feeling that Malcolm would forget all about it once he got a taste of my sugar.