Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(36)

I stare at him, my thoughts jumping from one fact to another. “Your asset,” I say slowly. “The eight-month timeline… Are you saying that Esguerra has a—”

“Child? Yes.” His bland face animates. “A daughter, in fact, born last Tuesday in Switzerland, some two weeks ahead of schedule. Elizabeth Esguerra—Lizzie, for short. Pretty name, no?”

“Yes, very,” I manage to say. My heart is threatening to erupt from my ribcage, and under the table, my hands form into fists.

A baby. A fucking newborn. That’s his plan, his asset. He’s right in that it would be the perfect way to control Nora. A mother would do anything for her child; she’d give up an empire and her own life if need be.

It shouldn’t matter to me—Esguerra is no friend of mine—but for some reason, the involvement of an infant makes Novak’s plan downright obscene to me.

It makes me glad I was going to double-cross the fucker all along.

But wait. He mentioned that his asset would be able to assist in the hit. That means the child is not it. However… “Is it a nanny?” I ask evenly. “Your asset—she’s connected to the child, isn’t she?”

Novak nods, his hand flexing on the table in front of him. “Yes, but not a nanny,” he says, his expression smoothing out. “A pediatrician—one that comes highly recommended by the Swiss clinic doctors Esguerra favors.”

Of course. I suspected Novak might have some connection to that place. “You bribed the clinic staff?”

“I tried, but sadly, no.” He sighs. “They’re so frightened of their patients that they’re next to impossible to bribe. I had to hack into their computers instead.”

“I see.” All the pieces are falling into place now. “That’s how you knew about Nora’s pregnancy so early.”

He nods. “Esguerra brought her there to be examined as soon as she missed her period. And as soon as they knew, I knew—and I reached out to you.”

I suppress the urge to reach across the table and break his neck. Maybe it’s because I know Nora, or maybe it’s because when I think of infants, I picture my son at that age, but the mere notion of a newborn being used like that makes me ill.

Keeping my tone steady, I say, “So you want me to kill Esguerra, kidnap Nora and her baby, and bring them to you, so in one fell swoop, you’d eliminate your biggest rival and gain control over his holdings.”

Novak’s smile is all teeth. “Exactly.”

“That’s very clever.” I inject an admiring note into my voice. “If you just took Nora and the child to control Esguerra, he’d find a way to fuck you over and get them back—he’s done that before. But his wife—his widow, I should say—will be easier to handle, especially with a baby to keep her in line. Are you planning to make it legal with her?”

“Yes, of course. Marriage is the easiest way to bypass all those pesky ownership hurdles. I will adopt the daughter as well.”

“And raise her as your own?”

He shrugs. “More or less. Any children I breed with Nora will obviously take priority, but as long as her mother behaves, I have no intention of harming the child.”

“Very generous of you.”

He either misses the sarcasm in my voice or chooses to ignore it. “Yes. I think we’ll all benefit in the long term—as will you. A hundred million will go far in assisting with your little vendetta.”

I’m not the least bit surprised that he knows about that. “Yes, it will,” I say without blinking.

“Good. Do you already have an idea of how you’ll go about getting into Esguerra’s compound?”

“Yes,” I say and look him straight in the eye. “I’m going to reach out to Lucas Kent and have him bring me to Esguerra. I’m going to tell him that I want to bury the hatchet—and that I’m willing to reveal a traitor to make that happen.”





28





Sara



I don’t sleep all night again, and by morning, I’m so exhausted I all but crawl to the kitchen for coffee. If today was a workday, I would’ve had to call in sick. However, it’s that most rare of all days.

A Saturday when I have absolutely nothing scheduled.

If this was pre-PN (Peter’s note), I might’ve gone to the clinic to help out for a few hours, or surprised my parents by popping over for breakfast. However, this is post-PN, and between the lack of sleep and the ever-present anxious waiting, it’s all I can do to plop on the couch and turn on a cooking show.

I’ve been watching a lot of those lately. They remind me of Peter.

As always, when I think about him, my mind starts going in circles. It’s now been eight months since he brought me home—eight months during which my only word from him was that note. Two months ago, pre-PN, I was more or less convinced that his obsession with me faded, and that despite his vow, he might never come back for me. Now, however, I don’t know what to think.

If he still wants me, why am I here?

What is he waiting for?

Mom is now completely well—or at least as well as she’ll ever be. Her left arm is still weak, but she’s able to move her fingers and can use that hand to pick up light objects—a much better outcome than initially feared. She’s also walking without assistance and has been puttering around her garden ever since the weather improved. Dad is ecstatic about her recovery, and they’re both looking forward to their anniversary cruise in September—a gift I was finally able to give them.