A Material Gift (D'Arth Series Book 2) Page 5

  “Maybe it’s time,” he said tentatively. He saw the change come across her as anger transformed her entire body.

  “I am not some two-bit model, I am Shanna Maya. I am one of the few that outlasts everyone. This,” she said waiving around the room, “is all a distraction.”

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “This is our life. We’re a family and we’re having a baby,” he said, pronouncing each word.

  “I can’t right now. I can’t disappear into the suburbs to do the mother thing. Don’t you see? If I do, I will lose my career completely.”

  “Then lose your career,” he said sharply and she slapped him.

  “How dare you? My career is everything to me. I thought you understood that. I thought we had an understanding.”

  “Yes, that we’re having a baby. You’re making me sound like a broken record. That isn’t something that can be undone. This was your idea; you were completely committed to it. I thought we were taking the next step. And that means you have to be here, with the baby.”

  Shanna marched out of the room to the bedroom. Sebastian stood staring after her, unable to get his head around what was happening. He hated her right now. He had the odd moment when he hated her; when she was a little too bitchy or unkind, but that didn’t come close to what was going through his head right now. She was just having a panic attack, he told himself, trying to calm down and be rational in this moment of utter madness. She would calm down and she would be reasonable again. She was going through a bit and it would be a painful transition. He tried to think of something he could do to make it easier, but nothing he could think of would be appreciated.

  Shanna marched out of the bedroom again, with her large Louis Vuitton bag and headed to the door.

  “Shanna,” he called disbelievingly. She was taking this a bit far.

  “I’m sorry, Sebastian; I just can’t do this,”

  Sebastian could feel goose bumps rise all over his skin. Adrenalin rushed through his entire body. This could not be happening. “Shanna,” he called, disbelievingly. But she gave him a last look and walked out the door. Anger coursed through him. His fingers itched to throw something, but they didn’t really have a lot of stuff around to throw. Her car roar and sped away. “Bitch,” he yelled with vehemence. Pacing around the house, he tried to think through this. She would come to her senses, he thought, but he knew it wasn’t true. Her career was threatened and he knew that she valued that more than anything else—more than this baby, more than him. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to get into this situation.

  *

  Sam waited at the table of the upmarket restaurant where she and Shanna had met before. They’d agreed on meeting here the last time they’d had lunch. She felt awkward sitting here alone. The waiting staff were kind, but they were concerned that her tardy dining companion was going to screw up their reservations schedule. She wanted to say to them that it was okay; she was waiting for Shanna Maya, whose tardiness would be forgiven and even understood.

  Finally she decided to call the personal number Shanna had given her.

  “Hello,” a croaky voice was heard on the other side. Sam felt panic that she’d gotten the day wrong, but she searched her mind and it was the right day.

  “Shanna, it’s Sam.”

  “It’s four in the morning. What do you want?” Shanna was obviously not in Monaco.

  “I’m sorry. We were meeting today.”

  “I won’t be coming today. I won’t be coming at all. Don’t ever call me again.” The end of call tone blasted into Sam’s ear with brutal finality. She had just got rudely hung up on, and yelled at for enquiring why she was being stood up. Sam rolled her eyes with frustration. Rich people could be so incredibly rude when they felt like it—as if it was a privilege belonging to them. ‘Don’t ever call me again’, that was a bit rich given the circumstances.

  Sam dialled Shanna’s number again. Anger built in her chest. There was only so far she was willing to take such treatment. Obviously she was being silly expecting an apology.

  “What?” the woman said when she answered.

  “What do you mean, don’t ever call you again?” Sam demanded. “How exactly is this supposed to work, if I’m not allowed to call you? And really, you are the one that stood me up, so where do you get off being rude to me?”

  “Speak to Sebastian,” she said. “It’s his baby. I’m out.”

  “What?” Sam said with complete disbelief. “You can’t.”

  “It’s not my baby. Deal with Sebastian. Like I said, don’t call me again.”

  The end of call tone blared in her ear again as Shanna hung up on her a second time. Sam just sat there, staring into the distance with the phone to her ear. This could not be happening. A wave of panic and nausea wash over her. Sam’s hands were shaking as she dialled Sebastian’s number. The wait staff were looking at her, but she didn’t care.

  *

  Sebastian answered the vibrating mobile which made a discreet sound on his desk. He saw the number and winced. This he was not looking forward to. He’d hoped Shanna would have come to her senses before the girl ever had to know. In truth, he was mortifyingly embarrassed about the turn of events.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” the girl’s anger carried through the phone, her voice shaking with agitation. “You can’t just decide to have a baby on a whim and then change your mind. You do realise a baby is an actual person, don’t you? I am carrying your baby—it was the most important thing in the world to you a moment ago, and now you’ve changed your mind? What is wrong with you?” Her voice was ringing uncomfortably in his ear. He couldn’t blame her for being angry. They were acting like inconceivably moronic, and he knew it. He just couldn’t do anything other than agree with her. There was no excuse for this and he had no defence whatsoever. “How can she say that this isn’t her baby?” Sam demanded.

  He cleared his throat. The girl had moved from ranting to asking questions, which required his participation, although he almost wished she could go back to just ranting as then he wouldn’t have to try to make this sound better than it was. But there was no way of making this sound better than it was. “Technically, it isn’t her baby. It wasn’t her egg.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Shanna’s eggs are no good,” he felt a bit guilty confessing something he knew Shanna was embarrassed about, but under the circumstances, he couldn’t afford to keep this confidence. “She had some medical treatments as a teenager that impacted on the viability of her eggs.” He couldn’t believe that he was using these medical terms now as well.

  “So whose baby is this?”

  It was a confronting question, one he couldn’t really wrap his mind around. This had always been Shanna’s baby. It was her desire that had driven all this, and he’d been accommodating her. But that was not what the girl was asking.

  “The eggs were purchased off some university student in Lithuania.” There was complete silence down the phone. Sebastian leaned his head back. Shanna had told the girl, which meant it was real—she wasn’t coming back. She’d chosen her career over him, and the baby. He smiled grimly—she’d left him holding the baby.

  “So she just wiped her hands and walks away? You can’t do that. You can’t just create a child and then change your mind. You people are completely fucked!”

  Again, he couldn’t argue with her; it was true. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He winced at how grossly underwhelming that sounded, even to his own ears. He didn’t dare think that the girl thought of them, although she’d made some of her opinions clear, and the truth was that her opinions weren’t wrong. There was nothing that could justify this.

  Chapter 8

  Sam rode her Vespa home in complete disbelief. Her mind wasn’t able to process what was going on. How could Shanna just pull out? ‘Sorry, I changed my mind’.

  Sam felt like she couldn’t breathe. Getting home, she rushed up the stair
s and grabbed a lemonade out of the fridge. Sitting down heavily on the balcony chair, she put her feet on the barrier bars like she always did. Why did everything she did turn into a great big cock-up? She’d tried to do something kind and they’d now turned around and gone, ‘Thanks, but change of plans’. How was she going to explain this? What was she going to do?

  Taking a swig of the lemonade, she wished it was something stronger, but she couldn’t; she was pregnant—with someone else’s baby. How was she going to explain this to her mother? The orange trees seemed to be mocking her with their picture perfect loveliness, like they were saying their loveliness was an illusion and she’d been stupid to fall for it—things didn’t work out; they never did, and this was the biggest fuck-up of all. Groaning, she slapped her hands to her forehead; her brain literally hurt.

  She just couldn’t call her mum and explain this. Pulling out her phone she called Sebastian; he was the only person who could give her some bearing in this whole situation, but just to prove her point that nothing ever worked out, he didn’t answer.

  She couldn’t think about this anymore, so she wandered down to the shop and bought a big tub of ice-cream. She was going to eat all of it, even if it killed her. After trudging up the stairs in her apartment building, she settled down and watched French TV, not understanding everything they said, trying to insert her own dialogue into the very French drama—only French people reacted like that, she thought. The ice-cream made her feel sick and she threw most of it up again.

  Exhausted, she crawled into bed and fell asleep, only to wake up two hours later when the world was silent and dark, to bawl her eyes out.

  When she woke in the morning, fury blazed through her veins and she called Sebastian again, but still no answer. She settled for calling him every name under the sun, then she dialled another number. She needed help and a cool, calm mind would counteract the chaos in her own, because she didn’t trust her own sanity.

  “Damon?” she asked when he answered.

  “Sam?” There was a pause. “You okay? Where are you?” he asked. She never called her uncle—cousin technically.

  “I’m in France.” She was silent for a moment, not trusting herself to talk.

  “Everything alright?” he asked. It was strange hearing his voice. He wasn’t exactly the closest family, but he was probably the sanest of the lot.

  She couldn’t answer straight away. “No,” she said, her voice barely holding. “I’m in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I just need to get out of here for a moment. Can I come visit?”

  “Uh,” he said and she could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Never one for drama, he tended to want to stay far away from anything of that nature. “For how long?”

  “A week.”

  “I guess. Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “I got involved with this thing; tried to help someone and it’s turned to complete crap.”

  “Do you need money?”

  “No.”

  “Alright. Let me know when you’re coming and I’ll come pick you up.”

  Sam hang up, feeling better that she at least had a plan in place, if only for a week. She needed to get away and to think. Once she’d done that, she felt sure she would know what to do. Marching into her bedroom, she packed some clothes into her backpack and headed out the door. She walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus heading to Monte Carlo, from where she’d take the train to Nice.

  After buying a rather expensive flight to Dubai online at the train station, she texted Damon her arrival time.

  *

  It actually felt good to head out of Monaco and to be reminded that there was a world larger than her existence and problems there. She loved travelling, even the flying part, which most people hated. Once the plane lifted off the ground, she felt she could relax and that there was nothing urgent she needed to deal with at that moment. It lasted for about half-an-hour and then thoughts were chasing around her head. She tried watching some movie she couldn’t follow, instead spending most of the time just watching the dusk give away to night-time.

  The heat hit her immediately as she stepped out of the plane, even as she walked straight into the extendable gate.

  Just landed, she texted to Damon.

  It wasn’t a long wait for the returning ping. Wait for me outside.

  Exhaustion caught up with her as she made her way through the terminal. She’d never been to Dubai before and the Middle Eastern sights and sounds drew her attention, from the dress to the language. It all seemed so foreign and exotic.

  Damon pulled up alongside her just as she stepped outside, in a sleek black Audi, which looked almost like a crouching animal. She rotated between noticing the car and the heat of the place; it was almost too much to process—the heat that was.

  “Nice car,” she said as she opened the door and sat down in the nicely air-conditioned space. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “I hadn’t realised when you said you were coming that you meant today,” he said, pulling out of the pickup lane. He looked well; his dark blond hair a little longer than when she’d seen him last, wearing a likely Italian and absurdly expensive shirt over sand-coloured pants. Damon always dressed exquisitely and Marco had, as he got older, tried to emulate him. It had been a time since she’d seen Damon. He wasn’t directly a family-orientated guy and it was hit or miss if he turned up at all to most things.

  He pulled out into the dark streets, speeding along broad, straight streets.

  “The heat is unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  “I would like to say you get used to it, but you really don’t. So what has you running for Europe like hounds are after you? What trouble are you in?”

  Drawing in a breath, she exhaled. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh,” he said. “And who is the father?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “Not like this. I decided to help an infertile couple and things have gone wrong.”

  “Sam,” he said with dismay. “How wrong?”

  “They’ve split up and the woman doesn’t want anything to do with the whole thing now.”

  “And the man?”

  “MIA it seems.”

  “So he hasn’t said outright that he’s out?”

  “He hasn’t really said anything at all.”

  “I’m sure it will all work out,” he said. “Just go back in a week and it will all come right. Perhaps it’s just a fight and you were caught in the middle of it. I’m sure it will all blow over if you give it a bit of time.”

  Sam smiled, but she wasn’t convinced. Shanna and Sebastian weren’t normal people and Sam had got the distinct feeling that Shanna wasn’t coming back; she’d been too dismissive, with finality, when Sam had talked to her. But then she didn’t quite know about Sebastian—hopefully he would come through and man up. “You’re probably right. I just needed to get away from it for a bit. Thanks for letting me come and stay. So you work here now?”

  “For about five months. It’s a two year contract.”

  “And how does Jane feel about living here?” He didn’t say anything for a moment, looking ahead out of the windscreen.

  “We’re living in a hotel residence, so all the amenities are there, and there is a great big shopping centre nearby. Jane would probably appreciate a companion for a few days if you’re up to it.”

  “Up for shopping? I might be pregnant, but I’m not dead.” Damon drove along wide streets, lined by tall, brightly lit buildings. “It’s hard to imagine all this wasn’t here a decade ago.”

  “They’re building at an incredible rate and it only seems to be picking up again.”

  “So what are you building?”

  “A bridge out to one of their land reclamation projects.”

  “Oh,” Sam said with only passing interest. Her uncle’s work had always been a bit of a yawnathon as far as she saw, but it obviously pa
id well. He pulled into the basement car park of a tall building, the Radisson. “So you get room service and everything?”

  “The hotel does deliver to the apartments.”

  The heat accosted her again as she opened the car door. Monte Carlo was like this on the hottest summer day, and it was night here. “Does it ever cool down?”

  “Winter is quite nice, but in summer it’s really too hot to be outside. That’s why there is an indoor swimming pool at the hotel. You’d burn to a crisp in the outside one.”

  They stepped into an elevator, which took them up to the 15th floor. The whole place looked brand new; it even smelled of fresh paint. Damon walked over to a large white door, swiping his card. “We’re back.”

  Jane came over, getting up from where she’d been sitting and gave Sam a hug. “Good to see you. You look well.” Sam had met Jane back in New Zealand, just before Sam had taken off to Europe, and obviously not long before they’d moved here.

  “Thanks for having me.”

  “You are welcome. It’s so nice to have one of Damon’s family come visit. You must be exhausted. The spare room is ready for you whenever you want. Do you want a drink?”

  “Can’t,” Sam said.

  “She’s pregnant,” Damon said and Jane’s eyes widened.

  “Oh. Wow. How far along are you?

  “Just coming up to four months.”

  “I would never have been able to tell,” Jane said, looking down at her waist. Sam wasn’t really showing yet, but she could feel a bump growing in her belly, particularly when she lay on her back. “You’re not showing at all. How about some tea?”

  “Tea would be great.” Sam didn’t really feel like tea, but she wanted to be polite. Jane rushed into the kitchen, leaving her and Damon. The apartment was gorgeous—marble everything, with expensive furniture. The view out was filled with the twinkling lights of the other buildings. “The lights really twinkle, don’t they?”