enduring…as long as you
accede to my terms.”
Her mouth dried to the texture of sandpaper. It hurt to get the words out. “Which
are?”
“While pregnant you do everything necessary to stay healthy. Safe. No risks, whatsoever.
When the time comes, you hand over my son. Simple.”
Simple? It would rip her heart out. “I’m not giving up my baby. Not to you, not to
anyone. I’d rather die.”
A nasty smile, perverted amusement, twisted Antila’s lips. “Something easily arranged,
but only after the birth, if that is what you wish.”
She no longer cared that he might see the tremors racking her frame. Let him watch
what he did to her. Let him see that he made her sick to her stomach. The idea of
her son alone with this man speared flaming darts through her lungs. “Why? Why are
you doing this?”
“Because you bear a most striking resemblance—”
He inhaled sharply, as if he’d caught himself just in time.
“Because there is a past mishap to be corrected,” Antila finished abruptly.
There was a fierce determination behind his words, something she could have respected
but for the complete absence of basic humanity. “That’s good to know,” she lied, “but
why the threats? If this baby means so much to you, why try to poison me? Why have
me pushed under a truck? Why attack me? I could have lost—”
Antila released what she could only describe as a hushed hiss, like a snake warning
displeasure at having been disturbed. Come to think of it, there was definitely something
reptilian about him, like the way he held his face to the sun as if to warm his blood.
“Now you insult me. I am not responsible for the unpleasantness you have recently
experienced. I sent you gifts only to have them tossed back in my face. Going to the
police was really not very wise.”
Her skin didn’t just creep; it sloughed free and lay in a quivering mess of creases
at her feet. Dear God, Nick was right. Two psychos did have her in their sights. One,
a raving bastard intent on taking her baby, the other a crazed loon, intent on killing
her.
She shook her head, bangs falling across her cheekbones. “It’s what any normal person
would do?” she muttered absently, unsure what normal meant anymore.
“But you, Anna, are not normal. You are exceptional. You were meant for me. I knew
this the minute I laid eyes upon the photo. Your picture, your face, reached out to
me in a way none of the other possible surrogates could.”
“Others?”
He turned his head at her question and nodded. “Yes, my search for a suitable carrier
for my son was both thorough and extensive. It also cost me a great deal of money.
Information is not cheap. Bribes are expensive. Thankfully, I’m a very rich man… I’m
also remarkably persuasive.”
She nearly gagged on the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, my God, are you telling me
I’m little more than an incubator?”
His hand shot to her belly, fingers splayed, his palm pressed deep. “Yes, but a most
privileged one. My son is inside you.”
She flinched and twisted away. Antila’s laugh was soft.
“I like you, Mrs. Marshall. Maybe I will extend the courtesy of allowing you to be
a small part of our son’s life should you decide to retract your desire to die postpartum.
That is what you truly want, it is it not? To be there for your child.”
The fire she’d thought he’d stolen ignited deep in her belly, its stinging heat pulsing
through her veins. “Abso-bloody-lutely, you bastard. Only a small part is not what
I had in mind. You can go to hell! We have laws in this country, and I’ll see you
in court.”
She tried to push upright. A fist, knuckles ugly with scarring, wrapped her wrist.
She couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain.
“Many have tried that route; none succeeded.” His tone, curiously empty until now,
took on a lethal edge. “I may be ruthless, Mrs. Marshall, but I never lie. Defy me,
accede to my terms.”
Her mouth dried to the texture of sandpaper. It hurt to get the words out. “Which
are?”
“While pregnant you do everything necessary to stay healthy. Safe. No risks, whatsoever.
When the time comes, you hand over my son. Simple.”
Simple? It would rip her heart out. “I’m not giving up my baby. Not to you, not to
anyone. I’d rather die.”
A nasty smile, perverted amusement, twisted Antila’s lips. “Something easily arranged,
but only after the birth, if that is what you wish.”
She no longer cared that he might see the tremors racking her frame. Let him watch
what he did to her. Let him see that he made her sick to her stomach. The idea of
her son alone with this man speared flaming darts through her lungs. “Why? Why are
you doing this?”
“Because you bear a most striking resemblance—”
He inhaled sharply, as if he’d caught himself just in time.
“Because there is a past mishap to be corrected,” Antila finished abruptly.
There was a fierce determination behind his words, something she could have respected
but for the complete absence of basic humanity. “That’s good to know,” she lied, “but
why the threats? If this baby means so much to you, why try to poison me? Why have
me pushed under a truck? Why attack me? I could have lost—”
Antila released what she could only describe as a hushed hiss, like a snake warning
displeasure at having been disturbed. Come to think of it, there was definitely something
reptilian about him, like the way he held his face to the sun as if to warm his blood.
“Now you insult me. I am not responsible for the unpleasantness you have recently
experienced. I sent you gifts only to have them tossed back in my face. Going to the
police was really not very wise.”
Her skin didn’t just creep; it sloughed free and lay in a quivering mess of creases
at her feet. Dear God, Nick was right. Two psychos did have her in their sights. One,
a raving bastard intent on taking her baby, the other a crazed loon, intent on killing
her.
She shook her head, bangs falling across her cheekbones. “It’s what any normal person
would do?” she muttered absently, unsure what normal meant anymore.
“But you, Anna, are not normal. You are exceptional. You were meant for me. I knew
this the minute I laid eyes upon the photo. Your picture, your face, reached out to
me in a way none of the other possible surrogates could.”
“Others?”
He turned his head at her question and nodded. “Yes, my search for a suitable carrier
for my son was both thorough and extensive. It also cost me a great deal of money.
Information is not cheap. Bribes are expensive. Thankfully, I’m a very rich man… I’m
also remarkably persuasive.”
She nearly gagged on the bile rising in her throat. “Oh, my God, are you telling me
I’m little more than an incubator?”
His hand shot to her belly, fingers splayed, his palm pressed deep. “Yes, but a most
privileged one. My son is inside you.”
She flinched and twisted away. Antila’s laugh was soft.
“I like you, Mrs. Marshall. Maybe I will extend the courtesy of allowing you to be
a small part of our son’s life should you decide to retract your desire to die postpartum.
That is what you truly want, it is it not? To be there for your child.”
The fire she’d thought he’d stolen ignited deep in her belly, its stinging heat pulsing
through her veins. “Abso-bloody-lutely, you bastard. Only a small part is not what
I had in mind. You can go to hell! We have laws in this country, and I’ll see you
in court.”
She tried to push upright. A fist, knuckles ugly with scarring, wrapped her wrist.
She couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain.
“Many have tried that route; none succeeded.” His tone, curiously empty until now,
took on a lethal edge. “I may be ruthless, Mrs. Marshall, but I never lie. Defy me,
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