“Seriously, Mercedes, you’re fucking delusional.” I shove her arm off and stand. I get about two steps away before she speaks.
“In nine months' time, I’ll be back in my rightful place.”
I turn to her, her choice of words stopping me. “What did you say?”
“Or eight months, I guess?” She sips from her drink.
“What are you talking about?”
She stands and walks toward me. “What did you think? That you could steal my family from me?”
“I’m not stealing anything. Your brother made a choice. He chose me.”
She pauses, cocks her head to the side. Then laughs. “Oh my god! I don’t believe it.”
I should walk away. I know I should, but I can’t.
“You’re in love with him. You are seriously in love with him.”
“I—”
“Well, poor, stupid Ivy,” she says, leaning closer, twirling a strand of my hair around her forefinger. “He doesn’t love you. He could never love you. Not after what your father did to him. To us.”
My throat is so dry I can’t speak. Her smile fades, and I see the circles under her eyes that I hadn’t before.
“So, enjoy your little victory. For now. But remember what you are to him. What he needs you for. Once you give him his heir, it’s bye-bye Ivy.”
12 Santiago
Ivy is quiet for the duration of the ride home, arms crossed as she stares out the window. She's barely spoken a word all night since her run-in with Mercedes. A conversation I watched from a distance, as Judge looked on too.
I hadn't planned on it happening, but it was a good test to see how far Mercedes had come. They are the two most important women in my life, and I would like them to find some common ground. But so far it appears the only thing they’ve found is a deeper resentment of one another. I don't know what Mercedes said to her, but it was impossible to miss the expression on Judge’s face when he took her by the arm and led her away. She would be punished for whatever it was.
Security follows us through the gate to The Manor, and Marco opens up Ivy's door for her when I park. I hand the keys off to him, and when I slip my hand onto Ivy's lower back, she pauses to look up at me. Her eyes are hard, conflicted. And I find that it is exhausting trying to figure her out.
"Let's go inside," I murmur.
She pivots forward, silently stalking through the front door and up the stairs while I trail along beside her. When we reach my room, she breaks away to grab a nightgown from the closet before she storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.
I wait for her, hands stuffed into my pockets. Five minutes pass. Then ten. And I'm losing my goddamned patience. I don't know how to deal with these emotions. The pregnancy book said mood swings are to be expected, but I've been trying to put her at ease, and so far it appears my efforts have been in vain.
When she finally returns to the room, she walks straight to the bed without looking at me and climbs in, tucking the covers around her.
"Would you care to explain why you're acting like a petulant child?" I demand.
"That's rich." She turns to glare at me. "Coming from you. Why don't you just go hole yourself up in your office, or whatever it is you do. No point sitting in here when you won't even sleep in the bed with me. I can assure you your child will be just fine without you looming over us."
"Our child," I correct her because it's the only thing I can think to say. On this point, she has been adamant, so I don't know why she seems insistent on reminding me otherwise now.
"I'm just the vessel, remember?" She bites out. "Your host."
"Fucking Christ." I drag a hand through my hair and turn away, trying to rein in my temper. "I don't know what you want from me, Ivy. I've been trying. Can you not see that?"
She doesn't reply, and I hear her sniff, but I can't look at her right now. I can't bear to see her disgust, her hatred. Every time I think we might actually be making progress, another clusterfuck presents itself.
I move toward the door without looking back, voice solemn when I speak.
"I'll be down in my office, should you need anything."
* * *
My ringing phone stirs me back to consciousness, and when I blink, I realize I must have fallen asleep in the chair at my desk. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirms it's just past midnight. I'm usually wide-awake at this time, but since I've been keeping Ivy's hours, keeping watch over her, I've only managed a few hours of sleep at a time in the chair across from the bed. I am too fearful of losing control to sleep next to her, yet I don't want to be away from her.
Tonight, my body made the decision for me, and I am finding it difficult to rouse myself.
I reach for my phone, which has now gone silent, checking the screen. There are two missed calls from Judge, and a text message that simply tells me he found something.
I find it odd that he'd be up so late, digging through anything related to my problems. But I have a notion that Mercedes probably gave him hell once they got back to his house this evening. Perhaps he needed the distraction.
I reach for the bottle of scotch on my desk and take a long drink, soothing the dryness in my throat. When I return Judge's call, he answers on the first ring.
"Hello."
He sounds a little drunk, which is unlike him.
"My sister hasn't been giving you too much difficulty, has she?"
A long sigh is answer enough, but
