The Billionaire's Surrogate: A BWWM Pregnancy Love Story (2 page)

“
Can
I at least change out of this mortifying gown?” Max asked the
doctor.

Dr. Schofield opened
his mouth to explain hospital policy but then closed it again. This
level of politics was above his pay grade. “Sure,” he
said and walked out of the room together with the nurse so that Max
could change. As soon as they were alone, Max relaxed.

“
Martha
what happened?” he asked.

“
You
collapsed at the fight sir,” Martha begun at once. “The
casino called an ambulance and the mayor called me. They had already
brought you here to this hospital by the time I could get here. I
called Dr. Benson and he arrived to check on you but they only
allowed him in as a professional courtesy but they said he could not
treat you because of that affiliation thing. He said to call him as
soon as you woke. I’ve already sent him a text.”

“
Good
girl. Anything else?” Max asked.

Martha shook her head.
“Everything is under control sir. Whitby is handling the press,
Constantine has informed the board of what is happening.”

“
What’s
he telling the press?” Max wanted to know.

“
No
information at this time,” Martha said.

Max nodded. “That
might not be the best strategy for the stocks. Ask him to change that
to a bad case of the flu.”

“
Yes
sir,” Martha said taking out her phone to text Whitby.

“
Where
is Andrea?” Max asked.

“
She’s
taking care of canceling or rescheduling appointments sir. She should
be here this afternoon.”

“
Right.
Good.” Max said.

“
Also,
your mother called,” Martha said tentatively.

Max was silent, staring
at the ceiling.

“
She…wanted
to know how serious it was,” Martha said.

Max turned to look at
her. “What did you tell her Martha?” he demanded.

Martha shrugged her
ample shoulders. “I told her the doctors didn’t know. She
asked me to keep her informed.”

Max’s eyes
narrowed and Martha hastened to add, “I said I would tell you
to get in touch.”

Max’s brow
cleared and he snorted, “She probably was hoping I’d cop
it and she’d have a chance at inheriting everything.”

“
Yes
sir,” Martha said obediently.

Max looked around the
room, his frown returning.

“
I
have some things for you in the car, your robe, slippers, laptop,
some flowers to brighten the room and your throw rug for the floor,”
Martha said seeing the frown. Max nodded his approval.

“
Great,
bring them in. Especially the laptop,” he said.

Martha nodded and left
as Max lay back.

*****

“
Hey
gra, how are you?” Christine called as she heard her
grandmother come in. She looked at the clock tick tick ticking away
in the hall. Ten pm. Late even by her grandmother’s standards.
That Mr. Lestrange worked her too hard.

“
I’m
good, how are you?” Martha replied.

“
Wonderful.
We got a new intern at work today. Eager to please, good looking…I
hate him,” Christine replied.

Martha laughed shaking
her head. “What am I going to do with you Chris?”

“
Stop
calling me by a boy’s name?” Christine asked. “Anyway,
why are you home so late? Another dinner party?”

Martha stopped
massaging her feet to look up at Christine in surprise. “Mr.
Lestrange is in the hospital Chris, show some compassion.”

“
What?
What happened?” Christine asked moving to help her grandmother
with her other shoe.

“
The
doctors say it's some kind of infection. I don’t have the
details. I’m not kin,” Martha said.

Christine snorted,
“You’re as much kin as any that man has.”

Martha did not
disagree.

“
So…?
Is he gonna be okay or are you out of a job?”

Martha glared at her.
“You are so unfeeling at times girl.”

“
I’m
not…I just…I don’t think Max appreciates you as
much as he should,” she said.

Martha smiled. “Girl
you know nothing. Now go get me a cuppa tea and stop bitchin,”
she said making Christine laugh as she went.

*****

Strings
had been pulled and Dr. Benson had been given a temporary pass to
treat his patient, Max Lestrange in the hospital. The tests were back
and Dr. Schofield and Dr. Benson stood before him to explain the
results.

“
Your
blood work showed elevated levels of white blood cells which would
seem to indicate an infection. We did differential testing to narrow
down the source of the infection and we’re pretty sure it's
some form of prostatitis. We still need to do further tests,
including a biopsy, to narrow down the possibilities,” Dr.
Benson said.

“
Biopsy…isn’t
that to find cancer?” Max asked concentrating on making his
face impassive.

“
Yes.
It's just to cover all bases. You’re thirty eight years old and
that’s still below the high risk age for prostate cancer but we
can’t ignore the possibility,” Dr. Schofield replied.

Max studied them and
then nodded. “Okay then…when?”

“
Tomorrow
morning,” Dr. Schofield said.

“
What
does it entail?” Max asked tensing just a little bit.

“
The
procedure we’re going to do is known as a trans-rectal biopsy,”
Dr. Benson said. “It means we’ll be accessing your
prostate through your rectum. The procedure will be done right in
this room. A nurse will be by early to give you an enema.”

“
Enema?”
Max repeated in horror.

“
It's
necessary,” Dr. Benson replied.

Dr. Benson turned to
the nurse motioning her forward. “Nurse Marcus here has a
consent form for you to sign, feel free to read it over and if you
have any questions I’m around.”

“
Thank
you,” Max said taking the form and trying to read. His vision
was blurry however so he picked up his phone and hit speed dial two.

“
Clarence?
I need you to come tell me if I should sign this consent form or
not,” he said into the receiver.

“
I’m
at the administration wing facilitating your move to somewhere where
we can control the environment better. I’ll be there in ten
minutes,” Clarence said.

“
Okay,”
Max said and hung up. There was movement at the door and he looked up
to behold a fairly tall woman the color of café au lait, her
honey eyes regarding him with cool curiosity. She’d tied her
curly black hair in a pony tail with the ends exploding all over the
place like a squirm of wriggling worms; only much better looking. Her
cupid’s bow mouth was pursed in disapproval like it always was
when she looked at him. She had on some sort of dark lipstick and she
was dressed for work in blue coveralls.

“
Hey
Chris,” Max said.

Her frown got even
worse. “Don’t call me that,” she said.

“
Come
to see if I’m dying?” Max asked with a mouth twist of his
own.

“
Oh
you wish you were that important to me. Gra sent me to bring you
lunch.”

“
Kind
of you to go out of your way like this,” Max said still in that
baiting tone.

“
Actually,
there is a faulty transformer I need to look at nearby. The hospital
is on my way. So you want your lunch or not?”

Max shrugged. “Hey,
you’re the one lurking in the doorway.”

Christine stepped into
the room proffering a small square bag. She placed it on the table
and unzipped it, unloading a plate piled with greens and covered with
transparent foil. She put the plate on his bed table and then
extracted another plate arranged with fish fingers and baked potato.
Lastly, there was a container of sauce.

“
Looks
good,” Max said. “I don’t suppose there’s any
wine in there.”

Christine just glared
at him and then extracted a bottle of sparkling water. “That’s
all you get,” she said sternly.

Max pouted like a baby.
“Why?” he wailed.

Christine just ignored
him and turned to leave.

“
Hey
Chris?” Max said. Christine turned around to glare at him.

“
Thanks
for the delivery,” he said.

Christine said nothing,
just resumed her walk out of his room.

*****

The examination was not
as horrible as Max imagined it would be, but the pain of having his
intergluteal cleft penetrated was exacerbated by his mother calling
his phone right after. Andrea, his personal assistant, usually
fielded all calls from France just in case his mother was using
someone else’s phone but she wasn’t here right now and
Max had thought it was Martha…or Christine. So he hadn’t
glanced at the caller ID before picking up. His mind might have been
on the throbbing sensation emanating from his ass and maybe worried
about the fact that bleeding was said to be a possible side effect of
the procedure.

“
Max
mon cher,
”
his mother’s voice spread like a noxious cloud inside his head.

“
Maman
,
what can I do for you?” Max replied.

“
Je
voulais juste voir comment vous faisiez
mon
cherie,
” Claire Lestrange said.
She wasn’t even French; she’d moved to France when she
married Oscar Lestrange but she was originally from the Mid West. Max
had gone to school in France, he’d spent only holidays in
America until he joined Harvard University to pursue law and yet he
didn’t keep dropping French words into his conversations like
his mother did. He found her to be an extremely pretentious twat.
Perhaps because she was little better than white trash before Oscar
picked her up at a county fair one day and fancied himself in love
with her. The honeymoon had lasted only long enough to produce one
child and then Oscar and Claire Lestrange had gone their separate
ways. Not too far though…Oscar wouldn’t grant her full
custody and Claire was not about to let go of that child support.

“
I
am doing well thank you for asking
Maman
,
however I’m very tired and I need my rest so I will talk to you
another time,” he said hanging up before she could come up with
the real reason for her call which probably involved some sob story
about how she needed more money. Now that his father was dead, Max
was in charge of his vast fortune in real estate and automotive
parts. The latter had began as a passion of Oscar’s and had
grown into a multi million dollar enterprise with an exclusive
Formula One contract. That was in addition to his own businesses in
America that mostly consisted of making deals and getting in on the
ground floor of profitable ventures. His investment in the Fast and
Furious franchise for example had netted him a pretty penny plus his
company provided the parts for all the cars.

He’d said he was
tired just to get rid of his mother but Max found himself drifting
off to sleep soon after that phone call. He guessed this…whatever
it was…was really taking it out of him.

*****

“
It
might be cancer,” Dr. Benson said looking solemn. “It
might be just a severe case of prostatis. We have to be prepared-“

“
Is
it going to kill me Carlyle?” Max interrupted.

Dr. Benson sighed. “No.
You’re in excellent health and this type of cancer is curable.
But we’re jumping the gun here; the disease is not confirmed.
The results of the biopsy are not out.”

“
What
does the treatment entail?” Max asked ignoring the disclaimers.

“
It
varies from watching the situation to aggressive radiotherapy,”
Carlyle said.

“
I
vote for the latter,” Max said at once.

“
We
have to wait for the results Max,” Carlyle said with a tired
sigh.

“
What
are the repercussions of treatment. Haven’t I heard something
about impotence?”

Carlyle took a seat and
crossed his legs. “Yes, impotence is a possible side effect, as
well as sterility. There are also other effects and hence why we need
to be sure before we go further,” he said sternly.

“
Hey
Carlyle, while we are waiting for results would it be possible for me
to go home?” Max asked.

Dr. Benson thought
about it. “I suppose Martha can watch over you just as well if
not better than the nurses here. You cannot stay alone, she will have
to board with you while you’re invalid,” he said.

Max rolled his eyes but
nodded his acquiescence.

Martha entered Max’s
room to bring in his laundry. It was early morning and he was still
buried deep in the covers. Martha was relieved to see it. She’d
left him pacing in his study when she finally gave up the ghost and
retired to bed at 2am. Dr. Benson had said she should monitor him,
make sure he got plenty of rest and enough to eat but there was only
so much she could do. She could hardly order him to bed even though
she was tempted to do just that last night. She knew he was worried
about the disease he might have and what it might mean for his life.
There was very little she could do about it except be around if he
needed her.

She
deposited his laundry in the closet and then returned to the kitchen
to put the coffee on. Max still lived in the same apartment he’d
acquired when he came to Boston to attend Harvard University. It was
located in an old building between Fuller Avenue and Thorndike
Street, in a Classical Revival apartment building which had five
stories. The entrance is elegantly framed by paired and fluted
Corinthian columns. Cast stone covered the walls of the first and
second floors while the upper floors were faced with tan brick. Max’s
apartment was on the fifth floor and it spanned the entire length of
the building so he was able to enjoy both sunlight and sunset through
the huge bay windows. The East wing had a breakfast nook situated
right next to the windows and that was where Martha set up his
breakfast. The intercom went off and Martha hastened to answer before
it awakened Max.