WHAT HE CONFIDES (What He Wants, Book Twenty-Four) Page 4

  “Charlotte?” she said, smiling to reveal straight, even white teeth. “Hi, I’m Nicole Solomon. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She put her hand out to me and I took it. Her hand was warm and welcoming, and I felt instantly at ease. Someone so brilliant and beautiful should have been intimidating, but something about her made me feel comfortable.

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” I said. “Thank you for seeing me so quickly.”

  “Yes, well, when Noah Cutler wants something, he can be very convincing. He had my poor assistant almost in tears trying to shuffle things around so she could accommodating him.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” I said, cringing. So she knew about Noah making the appointment for me. I wondered if she thought it was weird, that a man had called and demanded she see me. If she did, she wasn’t acting it. Maybe in her line of work she was used to seeing men being demanding. Women too, probably. I was starting to learn that when you were dealing with people who had money, you really had to be prepared for anything.

  “No need for apologies,” she said. “That’s how you get things done, right? By taking what’s yours?” She sat down at a sleek chrome desk, pulled out an iPad, and began typing away at it. “So we had your records sent over from your previous doctor. You seem to be pretty healthy, no abnormal Paps or anything like that?”

  “No,” I said. How the hell had she gotten my health records? I hadn’t authorized anyone from my regular gynecologist’s office to send over any health records. Noah must have done it somehow, even though I was sure it was in violation of like, five hundred HIPAA laws.

  “Great,” she said. She stood up and walked over to a wardrobe in the corner, pulled out a beautiful pink and white silk hospital gown, then handed it to me. “If you want to change into this, we can get you a Pap smear, then we’ll take some blood and tomorrow we can meet to go over the results and talk about your options.”

  She tapped something else on the screen of her iPad, then smiled and pulled a curtain across half of the room, shielding her from view.

  I kicked my shoes off.

  “I was surprised when Noah called me, asking me to find the right birth control for you,” she said. “But I suppose he figured a fertility expert would be the right person to ask. Since I’m good at getting people pregnant, I guess he thought I’d be good at stopping them from it, too.”

  “I guess so,” I said. “Although it’s a little bit of a roundabout way of thinking.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Given our history, though, I suppose he felt comfortable with me.”

  I froze halfway out of my yoga pants. Our history? What history? Her and Noah’s history? “You mean your history with Noah?” I asked carefully, making sure to keep any question out of my tone, hoping to lead her to believe that I already knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Yes,” she said. “I know it was so long ago, but he still blames himself, which I’ve tried to tell him is ridiculous, but…” She trailed off and sighed.

  “Yes, well.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. So we lapsed into silence as I finished getting into my gown. “I’m ready,” I said finally.

  “Excellent.” She opened the curtain and had me sit back down on the table.

  “So basically what we’ll do is just a Pap smear and some blood work. Then when we get the results back, we can talk about best options. There have been some studies that show that different blood levels of thyroid hormone, etc. respond better to different methods. We can switch your meds or get you on an IUD.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just scooch down the table.”

  I did as I was told. I hated this, hated getting a pap smear, hated that this woman had some kind of history with Noah that I knew nothing about.

  “Now, you haven’t had vaginal intercourse today, have you?” I wondered if she made sure to specify vaginal because it was an important distinction, or because she knew that Noah might have liked to do anal.

  “No.” I licked my lips and thought about it. “Unless… um, does a vibrator count?”

  “No,” she said. “A vibrator should be fine.”

  I stared up the ceiling as the speculum slid inside of me.

  I was going to kill Noah Cutler.

  I grit my teeth, hating how vulnerable I felt on the table, my legs spread, as a woman I’d just met studied my most private parts.

  “You okay?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, fine.” I tried to breath and relax. I’d never liked getting Pap smears – who did? – but this one felt much more invasive for some reason.

  She was fast if nothing else – a few seconds later, she was finished. She did a quick pelvic exam, then removed her gloves and tossed them into the trash.

  “Everything looks fine,” she said, smiling at me as she entered something on the iPad. “We should have no problem figuring out a birth control method that will keep you from getting pregnant.”

  “Thanks.” I was being deliberately short. Now that the procedure was done, I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. The room felt suddenly cold, and I tried not to shiver in my gown.

  “No problem.” She gave me another smile. “You know, I think it’s very cool that you came here even though you knew about me and Noah.”

  “Yes, well. The past is the past.” My throat was dry and my throat felt tight, like I was going to cry.

  She walked over to me, unfastening the locket she was wearing and dangling it in front of me. “Noah gave this to me,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” She turned it over in her hand and then clicked it open, showed me what was inside the heart-shaped frame – a tiny black and white photo.

  “A sonogram,” she explained, sounding proud. “Of our baby.”

  The room was spinning now, dark spots floating in my vision.

  “Of course, we lost her,” she said, but she sounded more resigned than sad. “I’m sure it was a girl, even though it was too early to tell. Noah wanted to name her Daisy. Isn’t that a funny name?” She laughed, and it bounced off the walls of the stark room, sounding foreign and horrible.

  “Yes,” I think I said, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Anyway,” she said, snapping the locket shut. “I wear this so that I keep them both close to my heart.”

  She picked up her iPad from where she’d set it down on the counter and headed for the door. “Your results should be in soon,” she said. “I’ll make sure to test you for HPV, too, since… well, you know Noah.” She rolled her eyes like we both knew he’d probably been sleeping with half of Manhattan. “The nurse will be in in a minute to take some blood, and then you’re free to go.”

  “Okay,” I said automatically, but I hated her.

  She opened the door and then stopped, popping her head back in. “Charlotte?”

  “Yes?” I managed.

  “You’re smart not to get pregnant. If you do, he’ll leave you. Just like he left me.”

  * * *

  The tears waited until I was done getting dressed, held off until I was in the back of the town car heading home. I put the divider up and sobbed quietly, hurt that he hadn’t told me, hurt that a doctor had felt it was okay to do something so vulnerable to me and then say things like that.

  I rubbed at my eyes with the back of a tissue, watching out the window as the city went by in a blur, partly from how fast the car was going and partly from my tears.

  By the time I got home, my hurt was starting to morph into anger. I stomped inside, spoiling for a fight, but of course Noah wasn’t home. He was off doing God knows what in the back of a car that was careening around midtown at speeds that no normal person would have allowed.

  I took Docket out again, ignoring the security guards that were planted outside the apartment, resenting them for being there even though they were just doing their job.

  When I got back inside, it was five o’clock. I was supposed to meet Noah at eight at Ironwood, but I wasn’t in the mood for a date now. N
ot after how he’d failed to tell me about his history with Dr. Solomon, after he’d failed to mention how he’d gotten her pregnant, how he’d been planning to have a child with her.

  I texted him, letting him know I was home, but I didn’t expect a response. I’d been keeping him updated on my whereabouts all day to no response. But that was Noah, I thought angrily. He expected me to follow the rules while he felt free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  I wandered down the hall and into the bedroom, contemplating taking a hot bath to try and calm myself down. When I got there, I found a dress laid out on the bed. I picked it up, running my hand over the material. It was black and gorgeous, with a plunging neckline and a fitted waist. It had a bodycon skirt that I could tell would hit right above my knees, and short sleeves with slash-like slits in them, the fall of the fabric designed to show as much skin as possible.

  It was the kind of dress that I would never choose for myself, much less wear out. It was way too sexy, the kind of thing that my old roommate, Julia, with her perfect dancer’s body, would have worn.

  I resisted the urge to tear it to shreds, instead setting it back down on the bed and heading to my closet to choose something else.

  It felt like a tiny act of rebellion against Noah, showing up at the restaurant in a dress other than the one he obviously wanted me to wear. I ran my fingers over the other dresses in my closet, the fabrics silky and shimmery as I tried to decide which one he’d hate the most.

  I imagined his jaw tightening, the way he would take me over his knee when he realized I’d disobeyed him. I’d safe word, I decided. As soon as he even touched me, I’d safe word.

  And then something occurred to me.

  Maybe the real act of rebellion wasn’t to not do what he wanted, but to do exactly what he wanted, only more.

  Maybe what I needed to do was dress even sexier than he expected, to go all out, to make sure that I had the upper hand.

  Emboldened by my new plan, I picked up my cell phone and called Halo, the most exclusive salon in Manhattan. I’d passed it many times on my way home, the tinted windows giving no clue as to what was taking place inside, completely unlike most of the New York salons with their huge plate glass windows. No, Halo made it seem like as if it was so exclusive mere mortals weren’t even allowed a peek inside.

  “Halo, how can I help you?” the receptionist on the other end of the line greeted me.

  “Hi, um, I’m sure this is a long shot, but I was wondering if you have any openings, well, now.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry, but we’re booked for three months. I can get you an appointment at that time with one of our junior stylists.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said. My throat went dry. I’d never dropped Noah’s name before, and it felt strange, almost wrong, as if I were cheating. But I deserved to have a little fun after everything I’d been through, didn’t I? And the need for revenge burned hot. “It’s just that I have a date with my fiancé, Noah Cutler, tonight, and I was hoping that perhaps –”

  “Hold, please.”

  A second later, another, more polished voice came over the line. “Charlotte Holloway?”

  “Yes,” I said, startled. “How did you know my name?”

  “We make it a point to know the names of important people who may become clients. Shall I tell Cherise you’ll be here in thirty minutes?”

  * * *

  Two hours later, I left Halo. My hair had been blown stick straight, then set in huge curlers until it fell in soft, bouncy waves around my shoulders. My stylist, Cherise, had insisted on putting a few tiny blonde highlights in my hair, so imperceptible you couldn’t really see them, and yet they made a huge difference in making my face look brighter. I’d been waxed, um, everywhere, then scrubbed with exfoliator and given a facial that was so relaxing I’d almost fallen asleep.

  A make-up artist named Gregory had done my makeup, making my eyes smoky and sexy, contouring my cheeks until I was almost unrecognizable, and convincing me that red lipstick was always a good choice.

  When the bill came to almost $3,000, I tried not to show my shock. They told me they would send it to Mr. Cutler’s apartment, without even asking me how I wanted to pay.

  When I got back to the apartment, I dressed carefully in the dress Noah had picked for me, pairing it with a tiny black thong, matching garters and stockings, and a pair of high-heeled black Louboutins. I studied myself in the mirror, and then, with one last act of rebellion, removed my bra.

  I usually didn’t like having my body on display like this, felt self-conscious about the curve of my hips and the swell of my stomach. But I knew Noah liked it. And if the point of the evening was to drive him crazy, to give him exactly what he wanted only on steroids, then I needed to go full out. And looking in the mirror, I began, for the first time, to maybe start to like what I saw. No doubt it was a side effect of being called beautiful so many times since I’d known him – it was starting to seek into my consciousness.

  I transferred my essentials—cash, lipstick, credit card -- into a black beaded clutch, then headed out to the car that was waiting for me.

  Jared opened the door for me. “Good evening, Miss,” he said. “You look very nice.”

  “Thank you, Jared.”

  I slipped into the backseat and hoped his boss agreed.

  * * *

  When I got to Ironwood, I sat in the car for five minutes, knowing that Noah would be irate if I were even a second late.

  Sure enough, the texts started immediately.

  Where are you?

  I told him I was running a bit late, then shut my phone off. I’d have to be careful – too long without hearing from me and he might do something drastic.

  Jared didn’t mind that we sat there, letting the car idle. When I caught his eye in the rearview mirror, he gave me a wink.

  When I finally entered the restaurant, a tuxedoed maitre’d whisked me through the dining room and through a black curtain that led to a long hallway.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To the Fireside room,” the maitre’d replied, but as soon as I’d asked the question, I’d already figured out the answer. He was taking me to a private room. One where we’d be away from the curious eyes of the other patrons and diners.

  Well-played, Cutler, I thought.

  I’d underestimated him, and I should have known never to do that.

  The maitre’d pulled the curtain back, and the Fireside room came into view. It was magnificent. I’d been wrong about it being a private room, at least in the way I was thinking. It was private, but it was a private banquet room.

  There was a massive dark cedar plank table in the middle of the room, surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. Chandeliers cast soft, dim golden light over the room, and a fire roared in the huge fireplace, the flames dancing and casting shadows against the walls. Even though it was warm outside, the room was just cold just enough so the heat emanating from the hearth kept the perfect temperature.

  Noah was seated at the head of the table, and he stood up, buttoning his jacket. His chiseled features were arranged in a frown, the kind of frown that let me know he was upset that I was late.

  But when he saw me, his jaw dropped.

  “Mr. Cutler,” I said icily, holding my hand out.

  “Ms. Holloway.” He took my hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving mine. Already I could sense the heat between us, could feel the beat and thrum of the electricity in the air.

  His lips pressed against my skin and his eyes traveled my body, raising his eyebrows when he took in the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. “You look stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you walk in here like that?”

  “Yes.”

  His jaw twitched, and I knew he was thinking of the other patrons looking at me. He didn’t like it. He led me to the table, his hand placed firmly on the small of my back. He pulled my chair out for me and I slid into it.

&
nbsp; He took his place at the head of the table.

  There was already a leather-bound menu in front of me, and I picked it up and ran my eyes over the choices. If things were going to get tense once I brought up what had happened at Dr. Solomon’s office, I wanted to order first. Once I got going, the last thing I wanted was a waiter interrupting us to take our appetizer order.

  “I already ordered for us,” Noah informed me.

  “That’s nice,” I said tightly, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “But I can choose my own food.”

  “I know you can choose your own food, Charlotte.”

  “Oh, really? Then why did you feel the need to choose it for me?”

  “Don’t be rhetorical, Charlotte.” He reached for his water glass, took a long sip and regarded me over the top of it.

  “I’ll have the filet mignon, with the roasted rosemary potatoes and mixed arugula salad,” I decided, closing the menu and setting it aside.

  “That’s perfect,” he said. “Because that’s exactly what I ordered you.”

  My bravado faltered a little. Damn. He knew me so well.

  His hand reached for my thigh under the table. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look in this dress?” He reached the strap of my garter, and his hand tightened around my flesh, his eyes lightening with desire and surprise that I’d taken the initiative to add something so sexy to my outfit.

  He pulled the strap back and it zinged against my skin, the pain instantly sending waves of arousal through my body.

  “So sexy,” he murmured, and his hand began to move higher.

  “No,” I said firmly, my anger still burning in my chest. “Not until you tell me why you sent me to a doctor who have a personal history with.”

  “Because she’s the best in Manhattan.”

  “My question had nothing to do with whether or not she’s a good doctor. It had to do with why you didn’t you tell me you had a personal history with her.”

  “Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t go.”