Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy) (8 page)

"Should I step outside?" I'm more than willing to give Liz whatever privacy she needs to change into the flimsy paper hospital gown that rests on the examination table.

"No. Just turn around."

I face the wall where several posters hang. One promotes breastfeeding; another cautions against the use of alcohol during pregnancy. But the most fascinating one shows a naked woman with a cut out view of a baby in her belly. With his eyes closed, and his head pointing toward his mother's cervix, the child is beautiful. Is that what my babe looks like?

"You can turn back now," Liz says.

I whirl around to find her seated on the table, wearing that horrible hospital johnnie, paper blanket covering her front. Part of me howls at the image she makes. She shouldn't be going through this wearing nothing but a paper gown and covered by a tissue-thin blanket, if that it can be called.

Before I get too worked up, a knock sounds on the door, and the doctor steps in. She's dark-haired, petite. Warmth and curiosity shine out of bespectacled, big brown eyes. "Oh, you're new."

I extend my hand and start to introduce myself. "Ga-"

But Liz cuts me off. "This is the baby's father."

"Gabriel Storm, is it not?" The physician asks.

Something unintelligible escapes Liz.

"Yes. How do you do, Dr. Carson." First name, Joanna. She studied medicine at Johns Hopkins and is board certified in obstetrics, an excellent physician with flawless credentials, according to the dossier Jake compiled on her.

As she washes her hands, she answers the obvious question of how she recognized me. "My husband works at the Department of Energy. He's a huge fan of your wind power projects. Raves about how they generate so much electricity for so little cost. When you closed that deal last month, he showed me the article in
The Wall Street Journal
."

The interview I'd given the reporter the day the SouthWind deal closed. Glad some good had come of it, crazy with pain as I'd been that day. "What's your husband's name?"

"Howard Morris."

I enter his name into my contacts on my mobile. "When next I'm in town, I'll need to arrange a meet and greet. I'd love to discuss our renewable energy projects with him." A contact at the DOE could prove nothing but beneficial to the future of Storm Industries.

"He'd like that." As she finishes drying off her hands, she approaches Liz. "Now, how are you doing, my dear?"

The conversation descends into a general give and take about Liz
’
s wellbeing. She hasn't gained too much weight; her minor aches and pains are normal. Doctor Carson cautions her about too much salt intake. Wouldn't want an increase in blood pressure.

While the doctor performs the internal examination, I stand in one corner, as invisible as I can make myself.

"Everything looks good. Ready for the ultrasound?" The doctor asks.

"Yes."

"Come on, dad." Doctor Carson waves me over and slathers a jelly-like substance on Liz's stomach.

When she slides the ultrasound device over Liz's belly, I can hardly breathe. I'll be happy whatever sex the baby turns out to be; it's my child after all. But with so much riding on the succession, I freely admit, yes, I want a boy.

An image pops up on the screen, and Doctor Carson points out the head which is hard to miss, the baby's spine, arms, legs. He's kicking his legs in some sort of Australian crawl. Suddenly, I'm finding it hard to swallow.

"Everything appears normal. You have quite a swimmer there."

"Must be in training for the next summer Olympics." I joke, trying to get back my composure.

"Ready to find out the baby's sex?"

Yes.
But I can't get the word out. It's Liz that answers, "Yes, please."

My hand reaches for hers, squeezing it for all its worth. I'm probably hurting her, but she doesn't protest.

"We're going to take a look between the baby's legs to see if we can get a peek," Dr. Carson says shifting the device lower on Liz's belly.

I squint hard into the screen. An eternity later, something becomes visible and the doctor freezes the frame. She points the little computer arrow to a protruding image, and my heart stops.

"You see that?" The doctor asks.

"Yes." I choke out.

"That's his little boy part." With a big grin, she beams at Liz and me. "You're having a boy."

Chapter 9

______________

Elizabeth

THE EXPRESSION ON GABRIEL'S FACE
—
joy, awe, pride
—
brings tears to my eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asks in a choked voice.

"Pretty darn." Doctor Carson says. She's so busy working the sonogram over my stomach she doesn't notice Gabriel's loss of composure.

"That's brilliant, simply brilliant." Sheer happiness pulses out of him.

"I'll print out a couple of images so you can take them with you."

"If we could have two sets, doctor?" Gabriel will surely want his own.

"Of course." Dr. Carson takes it all in stride, snapping tissues from a box and cleaning up my belly. She must witness such a scene several times a week. "You're doing fine. The baby looks right on schedule to be born February 28 give or take a few days. Keep taking your vitamins and we'll see you in another month. Any questions?" she asks after tossing her gloves in the hazards bin and washing up.

"No."

Gabriel is all smiles as he shakes Dr. Carson's hand. "Thank you, doctor."

Gotta give him credit. He's regrouped in less than a couple of minutes' time.

"You're welcome. Go out and celebrate." She grins at both of us. "Today's a big day."

"We will." He assures her.

After I dress, I insist he leave first.

Before he does, he carefully buttons up my raincoat all the way to the top, drops a kiss on my nose. “I’ll wait for you in the limo.”

When he tweaks my chin, I grow breathless.

“All right?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The look he sends me tells me he knows exactly what he does to me.

On my way out, I confirm my next appointment with the front desk before taking the elevator down.

The dismal view out the glass-enclosed lobby dismays me. It's still pouring. The balmy Indian summer we enjoyed earlier in the week has now turned into a cold dreary harbinger of winter. At least I don't have to return to work since I've taken the rest of the day off.

Samuel stands at the ready inside the front door of the building. Outside, he pops open the pony umbrella. The few people scurrying on the sidewalk pay no attention to us as he escorts me to the limo. Can’t blame them. They probably want to get somewhere where it’s nice and warm and dry.

When I slide into the limo, Gabriel’s talking on his cell. “What the bloody hell happened? How could your operatives lose track of her?” A pause and then. “I don’t care what you have to do. Find her. I expect a status report in two hours.” He clicks off. His color is high, and his breathing uneven. He’s heard bad news of some kind.

My heart aches for him. He’d been so happy a few minutes ago. I touch his sleeve, seeking to comfort him. “What’s going on?”

A muscle ticks on his cheek, like he’s grinding his teeth. “Not now. I’ll explain later.”

“Very well.” I busy myself unbuttoning my coat, slipping out of it. The outside temperature might be frigid, but inside the limo it’s warm.

“Here.” Gabriel takes it from me and passes it to Samuel.

“Don’t. I’ll need it when I leave.”

“You won’t, not where we’re going.”

"Where are you taking me?"

He pushes the partition button, and we’re isolated once more. "You'll see." His brows hunch over eyes which have taken on the hue of a storm.

What is he up to? And what was that conversation about? Whatever it is, it’s got him worried, restless. He curls an arm around the back of my seat and urges me close to him. "Tired?"

"A little."

"You can lay down for a nap before dinner."

We're going out to dinner?
He hasn't asked, but states it as a fact. Typical Gabriel. And a nap sounds lovely right about now. Rather than fight him, I decide to enjoy whatever he's got planned. Like Dr. Carson said, today's a big day and we should go out and celebrate. I rest my head against his shoulder and nod off.

Half asleep, I sense the car turning right, but I'm too tired to open my eyes. I'm safe and warm inside the limo with the man I love who’s holding tight to me. Worse things in life, right?

Ten minutes later, the traffic changes from stop and go to a smooth descent. The light grows dim and finally vanishes. We're moving into an underground garage.

When the car stops, Gabriel helps me out of the limo. "We won’t be long.” He tells Samuel.

"Right, Mr. Storm."

The parking structure contains about fifty cars, give or take. The ones I recognize are all luxury brands
—
Audis, Benz, Lincolns. Some makes I don't recognize, but they look expensive. We climb into an elevator. Gabriel inserts a plastic card into a slot and pushes the top floor. The building contains only fourteen floors. No surprise. Most structures in D.C. don't rise higher than the United States Capitol. A brief ride later, the door swooshes open and we step out.

We're in an apartment, a huge one, going by the size of the living room. The place is bare of any furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows surround the space on three sides and boast a stunning view of the Cathedral of the Nativity and farther off the spires of Georgetown University. "Where are we?"

"The Cathedral Arms.”

Impressive. The co-op built in the 1940s just north of Georgetown provides an exclusive address for congressmen, members of the diplomatic corps and the Washington elite. Rumor has it a two-bedroom apartment goes for over five million dollars. God only knows how much this place is worth.

"Why are we here?”

"I bought it. Signed the papers two days ago. For you. For me. For us."

For a second, my brain freezes, and I don't know what to say. He's got the right to purchase whatever he wants for himself. But not for me. "I have a place.”

“Yes, you do. But it’s too vulnerable, too easy to break into.”

“I’ve never had a burglary.”

“It’s not the garden variety thief I’m worried about, Liz.” A shadow crosses over his face before he takes my hand and leads me around the space. “The main floor has an open living room, dining room and kitchen, plus a powder room. The ceilings are 16-feet-high. A glass-walled elevator in the back of the living room leads to the second floor, which contains four bedrooms, three en suite baths, and another full bath.”

“Yes, I can see.” Some of it anyway. The place is stunning.

“And one more thing. Come.” He places his hand in the middle of the back and walks me around the living room. “Let me show you why I bought this place.”

On the other side of the wall, another elevator resides. A smaller one, similar to the one in his London penthouse. My breathing goes staccato.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like small spaces.” Did he forget my fear?

He cups my cheek. “It’s only two floors, love.”

His caress melts me, like it always does. I take a deep breath. I can do this. Holding tight to his hand, I say. “Fine.”

We climb aboard and seconds later, the door opens to reveal a wide space.

“Look.” He points to the far side of the wall where the back of a huge timepiece resides. “It’s a clock tower, fourteen feet high. Works too.” On cue the gears grind and the small hand moves.

“This is”—my hands flutter—“amazing.” While the clock presides over the center of one wall, the others contain the same floor-to-ceiling windows and offer the same breathtaking view as the main floor below. But this floor does not feature an outside balcony.

“This is our suite. It consists of a sitting room, our bedroom, an en suite bathroom, and another room I will use as my office while in town. It even contains a modest kitchen that connects by dumb waiter with the main one down below. The suite can only be reached by elevator, which you can lock from here. “Do you like it? Could you live here?” His eyes telegraph a desperate hope.

I allow my gaze to roam over the space. Gorgeous as it is, it just isn’t me. “Gabriel, I like Alexandria.” I love my neighborhood with its mix of business and residential and the busy comings and goings of visitors and residents. This luxurious clock tower triplex overwhelms me with its opulence and size.

“I can’t protect you if you remain there.”

My head jerks back to him. “Protect me from what?”

He tosses back his head. “It will take too long to explain. Let’s go to my hotel. You’ll be safe there.”

Safe. He keeps saying that word which makes me very nervous. What’s going on? What do I need to be kept safe from?

Chapter 10