1
VIVIEN
A few days after the end of SITO
Rolling up my yoga mat, I head into the changing room to get showered, hating how quickly I lose my inner Zen. Panic jumps up and slaps me in the face, and my mind races with so many scary thoughts. It’s been the same since Dillon resurfaced in my life, turning my world upside down.
Thankfully, he didn’t show up for Easton’s birthday party, but it didn’t stop me from fretting on the day, terrified he was going to make an appearance. I have barely managed to grab more than a few hours of sleep each night because I’m too stressed to switch off. My brain spins thoughts on a continuous loop until it feels like I’m going crazy.
I shower and dress as if on autopilot, my mind preoccupied to the point I don’t see anything around me and I’m not aware of my movements. I’m exhausted in every possible way.
Standing in front of the mirror, I rest my hands on the edge of the sink as I examine my lackluster complexion. Whatever pregnancy glow I was sporting has evaporated in the days since the news broke that Dillon is my husband’s twin. The thought he could be Easton’s father is beyond anything I can comprehend.
How can I tell Reeve?
I know this will break his heart, but I can’t hide it from him for much longer. Dillon warned me not to mention anything to my husband, making veiled threats to force me into toeing the line, but he can eat shit. He doesn’t get to show up and start dictating what I do and what I say.
Audrey was as shocked as me when I told her everything. She can’t believe Dillon seduced me in Ireland as part of some sick revenge pact, but I believe it because I saw the hatred in his eyes a few days ago. Dillon hates me, and he hates Reeve, and he’s not going to stop until he’s sucked all the joy from our lives.
How could I be so gullible to fall for his ruse? No wonder he didn’t come to Dublin Airport. He must have been reading my letter and laughing his head off at how easily I fell under his spell. I feel like such an idiot. Especially considering Dillon owns part of my heart to this day. I desperately want to reclaim it because he doesn’t deserve any part of me.
Including my son.
God.
Tears prick my eyes, and I hang my head, clutching the countertop as I barely hold it together. A sob escapes my mouth, and I’m grateful the other ladies have already left and I’m here alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to witness this. I break down; letting days’ worth of pent-up emotion leak from my eyes.
I’ve been walking on eggshells around Reeve, plastering fake smiles on my face in the hope he doesn’t notice anything amiss, but I can’t do it for much longer.
I’m trying to decide if I should fess up now or wait until I have the paternity test results. I know Reeve’s first concern when I tell him the truth will be Easton. It would be nice to reassure him with the test results—assuming Reeve is revealed as his father. If it turns out Dillon is his biological father, waiting will be in vain. I’m also worried about the impact this will have on my marriage. Concealing this from Reeve is a massive abuse of his trust. I’m not sure he’ll forgive me if I continue to keep this a secret from him.
My cell pings in my purse, forcing me to get a grip. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry. Drying my eyes, I apply some makeup to disguise my blotchy cheeks before running a comb through my hair. My quick blow-dry means my long brown hair falls in unstructured waves over my shoulders, but I have zero fucks to give right now. My pretty summer dress highlights my blossoming bump, and I run my hands over my swollen belly, drawing comfort from my unborn child.
I owe it to my daughter to pull myself together. All this stress can’t be good for my baby, and Dillon only has the power to destroy me if I let him—which I won’t.
Sliding my sunglasses over my eyes, I grab my purse and head out of the yoga studio to my car. I managed to ditch my bodyguard, but I could tell he was suspicious. Thank fuck, Reeve is at production meetings all day, or he would never have let me leave the house without Leon.
The hour-long drive to the medical laboratory just outside of Santa Clarita is anything but soothing. My nerves are shot to pieces by the time I pull into the parking lot of the small gray brick building. Dillon arranged the testing, but I insisted on being here because I don’t trust him and I want to ask the doctor some questions.
Climbing out of my car on shaky legs, I draw a brave breath as I walk toward the entrance doors. As I make my approach, I spot Dillon waiting outside for me. He’s leaning against the wall, looking at something on his cell, appearing at ease, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.
He’s got a ball cap and sunglasses on, shading his recognizable face. His usual black T-shirt stretches tight across his ripped upper torso, pulling taut along his toned biceps. Ripped navy jeans and black and white Nikes complete his understated look. Leather bands wrap around one wrist, and he’s sporting a bunch of silver rings on his right hand.
Dillon was always effortlessly hot, and today is no exception. I hate how good he looks almost as much as I hate myself for noticing.
He looks up, as I step onto the sidewalk, coolly sliding his cell into the back pocket of his jeans. Although he’s wearing shades, I feel the intensity of his gaze crawling over every inch of my skin, heating me from the inside out.
I come to a standstill in front of him, and we stare at one another in silence. A multitude of emotions blankets the air between us. I have so many muddled feelings when it comes to this man. Tightness spreads across my chest as we stare wordlessly at one another with all the what-ifs going unanswered.
“You have the samples?” he asks, in a gruff tone, after a few beats of tense silence.
A retort lies idle on my tongue as I nod. “Let’s just do this.” I want to get in and out as fast as possible.
Dillon holds the door open for me, and I enter the building first. I take a seat in the small waiting area while he talks to the receptionist. A tall thin man in a white lab coat comes to collect us, and we follow him in strained silence to his office.
My heart pounds behind my rib cage as I take a seat alongside Dillon in front of the doctor’s desk. Removing my sunglasses, I knot my clammy hands on my lap, willing my frantically beating heart to slow down. The man’s eyes widen as he looks at me before he hurriedly composes himself.
Clearing his throat, he hands an envelope to Dillon. “The NDA has been signed by me and all the laboratory staff though there really was no need. We are always discreet. The nature of our work commands it, and our stellar reputation rests upon it.”