Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) (10 page)

“So a house in the Hamptons is part of your corporate pension plan?”

“Not for everyone,” he murmurs. The phone reappears and his brow crinkles as he reads something on the small screen.

I stare out the window, not surprised when fat drops of water spatter against the windshield. The rain suits my mood. I don’t want to make a scene in front of his people but I need to tell Connor it’s over. I can’t be with a man who blatantly disregards my feelings about something as personal what sort of birth control I take. The only reason I’m going along with this is that I really don’t want to risk a pregnancy. If he’d just taken a little bit of time to calm down and talk to me instead of ordering me to be seen to like some problem, maybe I wouldn’t be so set in my resolve to end it. I would have gone to see my own doctor at home for a morning after pill and discussed other methods of birth control. But his overbearing manner torpedoed that possibility.

I’ll have to deal with him soon enough. Right now, I’m tired and having trouble holding a thought. My eyes feel grainy, and I close them, letting the steady humming of the well-tuned engine lull me to sleep.

****

We arrive at Connor’s brownstone overlooking Central Park just before five. I’m ushered out of the car and into the lobby and in short order, Connor, two members of his security staff and I are all crammed into an elevator. I try to shift away from Connor, but his hand comes around my neck in a proprietary grip, keeping me beside him. My look shoots daggers but he ignores me as the numbers light up for each successive floor. Yet another security member greets us as the doors open. “All clear, Mr. Edge.”

“Thank you, Justin.”

Justin, I recognize from the Rosemont. He nods in my direction. “Ms. Sinclair.”

I smile at him, though it’s forced. “How are you?”

Connor’s eyes narrow at the other man. “We’re expecting a Doctor Trammel. Please see that she is escorted up as soon as she arrives.”

Justin nods and steps into the elevator and the two guards that rode up with us make a discreet exit.

“The doctor is coming here?”

“Of course. What did you expect?”

“That we’d go to her office. Or she’d phone in a prescription for me to pick up. My doctor could do that.”

“It’s Sunday. Most doctors’ offices are closed. And no Ob/GYN worth her salt would start you on birth control without a physical exam.”

The time of reckoning is at hand. “Connor, I’m not going on birth control. I agreed to take the morning after pill, that’s all.”

Dark eyebrows draw down. “You have to. After what happened I don’t trust condoms. Take whatever method you wish, but you need to be put on something. It’s the only logical option.”

He sounds as though he’s some great lord, granting me a boon, saying I can choose what I do with my body. “Not if I’m abstaining from all sexual activity.” I say sweetly.

He stares at me as though I started babbling in ancient Greek. “What are you talking about?”

“You, me, whatever this is, is now over. We’re done.”

“No,” he turns around.

“No?” I follow him. What is he, three years old, telling me no and then leaving to end further discussion? “Connor, I can’t be with someone who keeps hurting me.”

“When?” He stops and I slam into his broad back, though not hard enough to knock me on my ass. “When did I hurt you?”

I hear that thread of panic and move to stand in front of him. “Not physically hurt. Emotionally hurt. You cut me open earlier, what you said about regretting being with me.”

He rears back. “I never said that.”

 “Not exactly but—”

He interrupts me. “What I said was I wanted to unfuck the situation.”

“Yes, and when I asked you if you would unfuck me given half a chance you didn’t deny it! That hurts, Connor!” Exasperated, I throw my hands in the air.

His expression is the very definition of pole-axed. “Why deny something so ridiculous? Of course I wouldn’t unfuck you, if that were even a possibility. Which it isn’t.”

 “I have to sit down.” Did I really believe I could understand how this man thinks?

 Taking me by the elbow, Connor leads me to the living room and pushes me down onto a brown leather chair. I put my head in my hands.

Connor moves away and I listen to the sound of him striding down the hall. I hear the chiming of a clock striking the half hour and the soft, steady thrum of the air conditioning unit. The suction of a door, the clink of a glass and then Connor’s steady footsteps returning.

“Here,” He hands me a glass of water, then crouches down before me. His eyes are filled with worry. I want to reach out and stroke his strong jaw but he’s caused me so much pain over the past few hours. How do I know he won’t do it again?

Those navy irises stay fixed on me as I drain the glass. I have to look away. “This isn’t working, Connor.”

“Don’t leave me.” The words are filled with a broken desperation. Gone is the man in charge. He sounds like a little boy afraid I’m going to leave him in the woods.

Anger simmers that he’s playing on my emotions. “You can’t treat me like this.”

“I just wanted to make it better. To make you safe.”

Safe? What the heck is he talking about? I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out. Snapping his teeth together he whirls and stalks toward the window. “There’s a great deal I have to tell you. About me and my life. I’m a businessman, I own several fortune 500 companies and I have enemies who want to hurt me. People that hate me because I fired them or their loved ones, or just because I turned my grandfather’s inheritance into even more money. They’d hurt me and anyone around me just to strike out at me for succeeding. It’s part of the reason I’ve planted so many stories, played up the carefree womanizer angle. So they don’t know who matters to me.”

He turns to face me again. “But if word got out that I have a lover, and she’s carrying my child…Baily, it scares me to death to think that I wouldn’t be able to protect you. What they would do to you, because of me.”

Despite the water my throat is dry. My heart is pounding so heard I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. How does he manage this, to flip around everything inside my head until I’m a complete wreck? I don’t even know which way is up? He’s concerned for my safety, is willing to go toe to toe with me to ensure I’m not a target someone could hurt by proxy.

Is he paranoid? Or just smart?

“Keeping you is selfish, I realize that. But I don’t know how to let you go.”

The elevator dings open and two sets of footsteps sound behind us. Justin clears his throat and says, “Excuse me, but Doctor Trammel is here.”

“Please,” Connor begs me with his eyes, his mouth. His whole body is filled with yearning.

Rising to my feet, I move over to Connor’s side. “Alright, I’ll stay, but I need some answers. And I won’t wait much longer to get them.”

Chapter Eight

G
imme an L! Gimme an O! Gimmie S, E, R! What’s that spell? YOU!
Snarkarella has her pom poms out and is doing backflips off the inside of my skull as Justin leads Doctor Trammel and myself to what looks like a suite within Connor’s apartment. Galley kitchen, living area and bedroom overlooking the tree line of the park. The colors are neutral, beige walls, taupe carpeting, and white window treatments. The lack of personal items leads me to the conclusion that the space is unoccupied. Why would anyone need separate living quarters inside his own apartment? The answer forms right on the heels of the question and I flinch. How many mistresses has Connor kept here for easy access?

Snarkarella pauses between high kicks to sneer.
And yet, you’re still here. Who should we blame for that, Baily?

As much as I detest her rotten attitude, she’s right more often than not. That’s probably why I loathe her. How can anyone truly like a smartass know-it-all who’s always right?

“You’ll have complete privacy here.” Justin steps back out into the main part of the apartment, shutting the door behind us.

Doctor Trammel is a small dark-skinned woman somewhere between forty five and fifty. She looks around a moment then sets her medical bag on the small oak table.

“So, Ms. Sinclair—”

This situation is so bizarre and I feel I owe her an apology. “I’m sorry we bothered you on a Sunday. I hope we didn’t take you away from anything important.”

She offers me a reassuring smile. “It’s quite alright. I’ve two children in college, so Mr. Edge’s financial incentive more than compensates me for the inconvenience. Would you care to sit?”

I like her reassuring bedside manner. It’s nice to have a friendly nonjudgmental face to talk to. I move to the couch and turn toward her. “I really just need a prescription for a morning after pill. Everything else can wait until I see my own doctor.”

Dr. Trammel nods. “If that’s what you want to do.”

What I really want to do is go home and sleep for a week. Or better yet, travel back in time to warn myself not to go anywhere near Connor Edge. “I know he probably told you to talk me into taking something else—”

The doctor waves her hand in a sharp slicing motion, cutting me off. “Ms. Sinclair…Baily. I’m here for you.
You
are my patient and Mr. Edge’s wishes are not a factor in how I treat you. He may pay the bill, but it’s your body and I’m not pushing anyone else’s agenda. Are we clear?”

My eyes sting, though I don’t know why. “Thank you for that.”

Perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrow. “I assume you and Mr. Edge are sexually involved?”

“We were….” I trail off, and stare at the floor. I feel like an idiot because I was all set to walk out the door, but his desperate pleas really got under my skin. Letting him have so much power over me, allowing him sweet talk me after being such an ass, it made me a little sick at the power he had over me.

 We talk about where I am in my cycle and when the unprotected sexual activity occurred. She takes my temperature and blood pressure and hands me a packet with two small pills. “Take these twelve hours apart within 120 hours of unprotected sex, preferably with food. Some women experience nausea if taken on an empty stomach. I have a pamphlet here that with some more information.”

“I really appreciate this.” I look down at the pamphlet. At least one of my problems will be solved, temporarily.

“Has he ever hit you?” The doctor asks quietly.

I whip my head up. “No! It’s nothing like that. Connor would never hurt me.” Even as the words come out, I think about his fear of becoming physically violent, or raping me. Why is he always so concerned about that?

Pushing my doubt aside I say, “It’s complicated. Him and me. But there’s no violence and I can leave whenever I want. This isn’t an abusive situation, he’s just panicked I might get pregnant.”

The doctor nods, though I can’t tell if it’s in acceptance. “Here’s my card. Call me if you need help. With anything.” She leaves the definition nebulous.

I follow her back down the hall to the front door, where Connor paces restlessly. His head whips up and his gaze focuses on my face.