Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6)(92)

As soon as we land, Cole tells the driver to take us to an address he gives him.

It’s an OB-GYN he looked up on the internet when we were flying.

I begged him not to take me to the doctor, because the driver will tell Lucien who could tell Mum, but all my protests fall on deaf ears.

Cole speaks in French to the receptionist. I speak it, too, but his accent is the best with foreign languages. It’s barely there. I sound like an English snob when I speak French.

The doctor, Dr Qasim Laurent, is an older man with olive skin and light green eyes. After he does the test and asks me a few questions, he says we should wait.

Cole tells him we want to make sure the baby is fine. After the doctor leaves us alone, me on the table and Cole standing beside me, I swallow. “Why do you want to know if the baby is fine? Are you…thinking about keeping it?”

“Are you?”

“I asked first, Cole.”

“You never come first, Miss Number Two.”

“Dick,” I mutter.

“What was that, Butterfly?”

“Come on, answer me.”

“You had better chances of getting an answer before reducing me to my dick. I know you love it, but, well, it doesn’t work in such situations,” he teases.

“Cole!”

His expression returns to the serene blankness. “I do want to keep it.”

If my heart could burst into pieces, it would’ve been all over the white room by now. “Really?”

He nods.

“But we’re…you know…I’m your sister in front of everyone.”

He gives me a dirty look. “You’re not my fucking sister. I hate that word.”

I hate it too.

I thread my fingers into his. If he and I want to keep it, then we can figure something out, right?

He watches me peculiarly for a second, his intense gaze sliding from my face to my abdomen and then back again. His eyes aren’t only seeing me, but they’re tearing through my flesh and peering into my soul.

“What?” I whisper.

“Did you… I mean, were you pregnant when Elsa beat you that time?”

The memory of that fear of being alone and not being able to protect my baby assaults me. I nod.

“I’m so sorry, Silver. I wouldn’t have stood still if I knew. I would’ve protected you.” He lifts our interlaced fingers and brushes his lips on the back of my hand, eliciting sharp tingles.

“I know.” My throat closes around the words.

“You do?”

“Yeah, you were a dick, but you made up for it when you showed up at the park. I heard when you told her not to beat me again in the Meet Up.”

His lips tug in a smirk. “Eavesdropping, Miss Prim and Proper?”

“Shut up. You’re lucky I forgive you.”

He kisses my fingers again.

We remain silent after that, just interlacing our fingers together and Cole caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. It’s like we can’t figure out what we want to say.

So I imagine Cole and me living in a faraway country. Well, not that far away — somewhere like France. Actually, no, it’s still too close to home and can reflect back on our parents. We can go to Asia or Africa or even Australia.

By the time the doctor returns, all sorts of scenarios have formed in my head.

“Alors.” Dr Laurant clears his throat and speaks in a thick French accent. “You have an ulcer that can be treated with des IPP. That’s the reason behind the vomiting and nausea. You’ve had stressful times, yes?”

I nod. “But what about the pregnancy?”

“Is the child okay?” Cole asks.

“There’s no child.” The doctor smiles in an impassive kind of way. “You’re not pregnant, mademoiselle.”

Not pregnant? What does he mean I’m not pregnant?

“I took a test.” I stare between him and Cole. “I took a test and it said positive.”

“It’s rare, but it can be… How do you say faux positive? Ah. A false positive.”

No, no, no…

“How many tests have you taken, mademoiselle?”

“One.”

“A false positive then. If you had taken another one right after, it would’ve come out negative. If you take tranquilisers a lot, that can alter the test. That’s why we recommend you take multiple tests.”

“What about my period? It’s weeks late.”

He flips through his pad. “Yes, from the form I can see that you used to take the birth control pills to regulate it. Since you haven’t been doing so lately, it affected your cycle. Again, stress and tranquilisers play a part.”

“So, I’m really not pregnant?” My voice breaks at the end.

“You’re not. Your blood test shows normal HCG levels — that’s the pregnancy hormone.”

“Can’t it be wrong?”

“No. Blood tests are the final verdict.” He scribbles something on his pad. “I’ll give you something for the stomach aches.”

I stare at Cole.

He appears as dazed as me. As speechless as me.

I’m not pregnant.

It should make me happy, but all I want to do is cry.