Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

Chapter 33

#Chapter 33 – In the Mirror

I slam my door behind me and press my back against it, slipping down to the floor and crying into my hands. Amelia’s words echo after me – sham, slut, w***e. Disappear. In so many ways, they’re all true.

Glad, for once, to be in an empty house, I let myself cry my heart out, reliving all of the darkest moments of my life.

Joyce, grabbing me, throwing me into that closet. Watching him with my sister.

My father, ripping me out of Victor’s hotel room, not saying a word to me the whole ride home.

The banishment, cold and formal. Sleeping on a city bench. Begging for work so that I could buy a meal – and then, so I could buy a pregnancy test when.

The complicated experience of giving birth alone, welcoming my two boys into the world, promising to love them no matter what, but with no family there to stand with me as I gave them their names.

Years of working, struggling, to keep a roof over their heads. The absolute humiliation of being evicted, my life’s possessions strewn all over the yard. The shame I felt at accepting charity – charity – from Victor, after I promised myself I’d always be self-sufficient.

I open my eyes and stare at the bracelet on my wrist, and then tear it off, the gossamer gold chain breaking easily. I hurl it across the room. I’m just the pet that Victor kept in his play house out back, the nanny to his boys, feeding me with scraps from his table.

Slowly, I gather myself, pulling myself to my feet, and make my way upstairs, my shoulders still shaking with sobs for which I have no more tears.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I walk into my bathroom and turn the tap on the tub, filling it with hot water, seeking warmth from something, anything. Even if it scalds me.

As the tub fills up, I stare at myself in the mirror, my face red and puffy from the crying, my hair limp as it falls around my shoulders.

As I stare at myself, I begin to peel off my clothing, piece by piece. First my top, which I see, suddenly, has a smudge of jelly towards the bottom, courtesy of one of my boys grabbing for me before he’d quite finished his lunch.

Then I slip off my jeans, which are frayed and ripped, but not in a fashionable way – just from years of use. I peel off my socks and study myself there, in my bra and panties, feeling…old, pathetic. Used up.

Amelia has a very specific view of me, as a parasite who is taking advantage of her fiancé, living for free on his charity because I was “lucky” enough to get knocked up by accident five years ago. To her, I hit the lottery, and I’m cashing in, taking everything I can get.

In my heart, I know that’s not true. I’ve worked to build a life for my boys, to hold myself to the highest standards, to be self-sufficient. I bury my face in my hands again because Amelia’s words nag at me – aren’t they true? I don’t pay for this house. I’m only here because I whelped two boys who have Victor’s face.

Dragging my hands down, I stare at myself again in the mirror. Slowly, I reach behind myself and unhook my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Then I slip my panties – basic, cotton – from my hips, and let them fall as well.

I twist to see all my angles in the mirror, lifting my hair off my shoulders and piling it on top of my head so that I can see the lines of my back, my ass, my legs which – though shorter than Amelia’s – are still shapely.

I turn and face forward again, cupping my breasts in my hands, and then sliding my palms down the panes of my stomach, letting them settle on my hips. Looking at myself, I know I’m not an unattractive woman, that I’m not used-up, that I still have life and vigor in my body, my mind.

And really, was I so different than Amelia? Yes, I’m here because of a random night five years ago, but she’s only here because some mating bond snapped into place not very long after that. Everything Amelia has, she has because Victor gave it to her. In some ways, I think, I’m more accomplished than she is.

I sigh as I recognize the untruths in that, and then turn away to turn off the bath’s tap as it threatens to overflow. Even without the mating bond, Amelia is a serious model, with a career. I can’t discredit her to make myself feel better.

As I climb into the scalding water – I’ve always loved hot, hot baths, but even this one takes my breath away – I think that I haven’t quite been fair to Amelia. My boys and I did toss her whole life up in the air.

It must have taken an incredible amount of faith and patience to agree to Victor’s plans to acknowledge his sons. After all, when he does that, they will be his heirs, taking the title from any sons that she may later have. That is a big sacrifice, even though those children do not yet exist, and may never.

It was foolish of me to think that I could walk into Amelia’s house and be her friend, give her advice on love and her marriage. After all, I have not been…Well. My behavior with Victor has not been precisely above-board.

I sigh as I face this truth, taking a deep breath and sinking under the water. It is peaceful under here, away from the sounds and realities of the world. If I close my eyes, I can pretend that none of it exists.

Holding my breath, I admit to myself that I don’t…not have feelings for Victor. Or. Fine, yes, I can admit that I have a little crush on him. It’s been slow-growing, creeping up on me as the weeks have passed.

Victor and I have had a connection since the moment we met, but that was buried in the stresses and trials of the past few weeks – Victor threatening to take my boys, trying to find a house, negotiating my place within Victor’s kingdom. But now that all of that is starting to calm down, I have to admit that the connection, which was perhaps always there, is beginning to surface again.

That night the boys were sick…it was close, then. Standing in the quiet of the bathroom, with Victor almost naked in front of me, I could have very easily reached out, just touched him, once, with just the tip of my finger. It would have been enough. Victor would have pulled me to him. He was hungry for me that night. And I would have let him take my mouth with his own, let him press my back up against the sink as he grabbed me by the ass, lifting me up, letting me wrap my legs around his waist.

I know, instinctually, what it would have been like. Victor would not have been gentle with me, wrapping his hand in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. I would have drawn my nails across the skin of his back, begging for it, and then he would have bitten me – hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to claim me. And I would have let him, I would have asked for more.

We would have fallen to the ground and I would have bared my own teeth, pushing down Victor’s shorts, tearing off my own, demanding that he give himself to me. Gasping, not caring if it hurt, Victor would have plunged into me, and I’d have cried out –

My head breaks free of the water and I gasp for breath. f**k, s**t. It’s more than a fantasy, it’s the full knowledge of what almost happened that night in the bathroom, what was seconds away from occurring if Alvin had not called for me.

Victor and I, I know, are walking a fine line here. And it’s irresponsible and deeply unfair to Amelia, on both our parts.

Seriously, who the hell did I think I was, sitting down for a cup of tea and trying to be gal pals?

I pull myself out of the tub and wrap my body in a towel, looking at myself again in the mirror. I’m all pink from the heat of the water, from the knowledge of what I’ve admitted to myself.

I am grateful that it didn’t go that far. Because it means that I have a chance to correct it, to be better to Amelia, and to Victor, and to myself. He is, after all, a mated man, if not yet a married one. Any steps that we take to act on some random s****l energy between us are not going to result in any real happiness – just a lot of complications.

We have to be adults about this. From this moment on, I determine, that’s all we are. Co-parents, teammates. Anything else between us needs to be swept under the rug, or it will result in disaster. He deserves better, and so do I.

My decision made, I hurry into my bedroom and grab my phone off the bedside table, flicking through my contacts until I find the one I want. I dial, wait.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Edgar?”

“Yes?” The voice on the other line is confused, hesitant.

“Hey, it’s Evelyn.”

“Evelyn!” I smile at the change in his voice, from wary to thrilled. “Wow, Evelyn, I’m so glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” I say, winding a strand of wet hair around my finger. “I’m sorry it took so long, I was…distracted. But, I was wondering if I could still take you up on your offer of a date?”

“Absolutely. When are you free?”