chapter 8

Blue hadn't said much of anything at all since she had chosen her station on a window ledge, ignoring the couch only two steps to her left that would have made just as much, if not more of a seat. Of course, she'd given a cursory 'thank you' when Vincent had presented her with a steaming green tea and had forced a laugh when he attempted a joke about how the hard surface would flatten her arse but failed to move her eyes from the jungle of skyscrapers that offered little-to-no entertainment. Truthfully, never in her life had she wanted the world to swallow her up more. In a cruel and unfortunate twist of fate, however, god seemed to be continuously spitting in her face. She had rolled her ankle in her rush to escape Marian's welcoming abode and was forced to sit with an ice pack strapped to her ankle. She had spilt a fraction of her tea on the brand-new dress she had resolved never to wear again given its relationship to such a horrid day, but adored nonetheless. She had neglected to eat breakfast and now felt far too sick to eat anything and to top it all off — she had seven missed calls from her mother and just four from her father; though she was sure Marian would never give up at seven.

Truthfully, Vincent wasn't quite sure how to get anything out of Blue. Had he had any sisters, he without

question would have been far better at deciding what to say to an upset woman. But at that point in time, he wasn't certain just what exactly he could say without upsetting Blue. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he had hoped that a cup of tea would offer the non-verbal support he wanted so desperately to tell her she had... there wasn't much he could say without making false promises. At the end of the day, it wasn't okay; whatever "it" may be.

Surely "it" was simply the inevitable. She hadn't rejected Richard's not-so-spontaneous proposal, nor could she. By running away, she'd accomplished nothing... other than avoiding having her picture taken, of course. At the end of the day, in Marian's little world, nothing happened unless there were photos of it on Facebook. Maybe she'd orchestrate a public ambush where a picture would be taken of Richard (actually on one knee this time), and Blue looking as surprised as ever. In that case, no one would be able to distinguish the difference between disgusted shock and excited shock. The world would believe whatever caption Marian pulled out of her asshole; "pleased to announce my daughter is now the future Mrs Leitner!" Blue could just imagine it. The only thing she couldn't predict, was what emojis her mother would see fit for the occasion. Maybe a pregnant emoji to stir the pot and get some rumours going. After all, the more talk, the better.

Every day Marian seemed to be violating the very principle of which she raised her daughter; no reputation is better than a bad reputation. In more recent times, it would seem she just wanted to get people talking about her. "Do you want me to run you a bath?" He had sat quietly on a stool by the kitchen counter for what must have been at least half an hour, just watching the girl. 

She, herself, hadn't done much moving, either. In fact, she had sat completely still for quite some time, perhaps to the extent that Vincent had considered whether or not she was dead one or two times. "Will you visit me if I go to jail?"

"You're not murdering Richard,"

Finally, she turned to face the man. As she swung her feet to the floor and the ice pack fell lazily to the ground, he could clearly see light bruising forming around her foot — on top of that, it appeared quite swollen. He resolved to take her to a doctor. When he finally met her eyes, they were bright and half-open in a way that told him she was adjusting to the inside light after having stared outside for such a time... It was yet another strange and pointless detail that made him smile. "Why not?"

Slowly and carefully, Vincent made an approach he was afraid would upset Blue; she had been so closed off in the car and the moment she got home. She had angled herself away from him. She had curled in on herself. She had ignored all conversation starters and brushed off any contact he had made. It was enough to determine that the girl had intimacy issues... as much of a leap it seemed he was taking. Perhaps she wasn't hugged as a child. Perhaps she wasn't offered emotional and physical support in times of grief. It would certainly explain why she had such trouble with accepting his own. In the short time he had known Marian Pierce, he could say with confidence that he was certain she showed her child no affection. As he sunk to a crouch by her toes and placed two large hands on her knees, he struggled to stifle a bitter chuckle; these were the things you'd learn about a partner before marrying them. "Well, Blue, frankly... it would be awfully hard to fuck you in prison,"

"What if I run away?"

"You think Richard won't find you?"

"Tell them I'm married?"

"Your mother will have it annulled,"

She paused carefully. "How long is it going to take them to figure out that I am... married?" He watched as she swallowed with some degree of difficulty. In that moment, he took notice of just how wet her eyes looked. Was she going to cry?

"Two weeks, maybe three,"

"How long do we have to be married until we have to get a divorce instead of an annulment?"

"I'm not sure," he smiled bitterly, thumb tracing an old bruise on her shin. He was sure that she had gotten it from tripping over a chair — it was something she did often. She had quite poor special awareness. "Depends how good your mother is at arguing that you weren't in your right state of mind,"

There was hardly a pause between the sentence he had spoken mostly to himself and Blue's gentle, shaky plea for his attention. "Vincent."

"Mmm?" With a distant hum, Blue searched the eyes of the man's who were cast to her feet. Upon further inspection, it wasn't her ankle that was swollen, but both of her feet. And then something he never accounted for occurred. It struck him with the force of a junkie asshole boyfriend... in one moment it all made complete, perfect sense.

"Vincent I'm-"

"Pregnant." This time, it was Vincent who took a careful pause. Before she could grab a hold of his wrists and stop him, he was rising to his feet, pacing away from her, and tucking in the barstool he had been seated on only moments before as though he was searching for something to busy himself with — and he was. The mood swings, the poor impulse control, the weight gain, the vomiting he had chalked up to food poisoning. Her aversion to the foods she once loved. Her tiredness. Headaches. "How long?"

"My birthday." Nervously, Blue wrung her hands in her lap. It was something that failed completely to distract her from the fact Vincent had turned from her and she could no longer see what exactly the man was thinking. The thought alone terrified her. Was he about to tell her to get an abortion? Was he about to turn her out on her ass? "I still have two pills of birth control in my tray; one from the day before my birthday and one for my birthday."

Before she could so much as take a breath in, she watched Vincent's shoulders begin to shake. Of course, her first thought was that he was crying... but that would be ridiculous. He'd never so much as complained in the whole month they'd known each other, and yet there he was; showing the first sign of dismay she had yet seen from him. But what reason would he have to be crying? Other than the fact Blue could leave him with everything he owned if he decided he didn't want the child. In hindsight, she could fully understand why he would be crying. He was trapped — he either decided he wanted the child and took on the financial repercussions, or he decided he didn't and faced the fact he'd be losing at least half of what he owned all because he fucked the wrong girl at the wrong time.

By the time she could rise to her damned swollen feet, she heard the sound she thought she'd never hear. He was laughing. "So, you mean to tell me, that for the twenty-four hours after your party you were avoiding me like the plague, you had my child inside of you?" as he watched the face of concern which had formed across Blue's brow and tugged at the corners of her lips fall to a look of complete shock, his smile only grew... A broad, self-satisfied, sickly-pleasured smirk of sorts.

Suddenly, Blue was fuming. And yet Vincent just couldn't get a hold of himself. Maybe he ought to have had a sister. "This isn't funny,"

"It's hilarious," all but doubling over in laughter, Vincent took a few steps forward and grabbed the mother of his child by her shoulders, a chuckle gracing his lips and a grin completely and utterly contrasting the red-faced frown Blue bore. Just as soon as the laughing had started, Vincent fell silent and settled for a grin instead — and before Blue could shove the man away from her in a defiant huff, he took the woman's broad face in his hands, planted his mouth on hers and stole her in a kiss far more passionate than any in her whole life. "Fuck, I have never wanted to screw you more in my life,"

"What the-?" Before she could talk herself out of it, she squared her hands over the man's chest and shoved him in the very way she had wanted so dearly to shove Richard only hours beforehand. "Why aren't you telling me to get rid of it?"

"Well, do you want to have this child?"

"Yes, of course I do-"

Blue, with the most confused frown to ever grace her face and hands shaking from adrenaline she no longer needed, watched Vincent wrap his arms around her waist and tug her rather hungrily into himself. With a warm exhale that brushed the tip of her ear, he bowed his mouth to rest by her cheek and murmured so lowly it sent a spell of shivers straight down her spine; "perfect," he paused, hips pressing into her own, arms tightening around her and voice quietening as though he knew how dizzy it made her. "Let's have this child,"

"It's not that easy," In a last effort, she attempted to break away from the man before she lost all will to do so. Failing horribly, she couldn't help but arch her back as his mouth fell to her neck and a hand slid beneath her shirt and over her bare back — he had never been more thankful she had changed into pyjamas. "My mother is going to annul the marriage-"

"She needs either you or me to agree to that-"

"Then she'll find a way to make us-"

"Blue Carmichael." The man straightened up, a brush of air rushing to greet her skin in the absence of his mouth, gaze firm and jaw flexing as he flickered between her eyes and her lips. He wasn't sure whether he should abandon all effort to form a conversation and just kiss her instead... it was something Blue could see in the restlessness of his eyes. "Just focus on yourself for once in your damn life — this isn't about that bloody Richard anymore," It's about that unborn spanner in the works. She watched stiffly as the man fished into his pocket and emerged with the set of rings she'd felt naked without. Before she could so much as hold her palm out to accept the rings, Vincent had taken her hand in his and settled them on her ring finger. "Just sit down, put the television on and let me cook you a decent meal," Despite the complete baselessness of the gesture, she felt as though he was promising himself to her all over again.

For the first time in what had to be a full two weeks, the prospect of a meal appealed to Blue.

—

The first thing Blue did when she woke up was roll over. And after that, she shot from the bed of knotted sheets and shook Vincent awake. It was a Monday morning, and two hours since his alarm would have gone off — had he not turned it off the night before; a fact to which Blue was none the wiser. "Why are you sleeping? You should have gone to work half an hour ago," She watched the man as he grumbled rather loudly and took to his other side, burying his face in the cushions. As much as she hated to admit such a fact, she knew exactly how he felt trying to wake her in the mornings; as though it was far too early to be dealing with this. "I get that you're the boss, but you don't get to do whatever you want, you know..."

Groggily, Vincent turned over. And as he did, she noticed that he was freshly shaven. He had already gotten up. "I'm working from home today, now come back to bed, won't you?"

"Why?"

She watched as he pushed his fingers into his eyes with some sense of annoyance. If she could, she would have taken the man by the ankles and dragged him over the edge of the bed — but she couldn't, she simply wasn't strong enough... and she sure as hell wasn't going to make a fool out of herself trying. "Am I not allowed to spend the day with my wife, Mrs Carmichael?"

"Don't call me that,"

She watched with a rather pointed stare as he sat up, took her waist between his hands and tugged as though she weighed the same as a cushion. Before she could so much as sit up, herself, she found Vincent climbing over her rather slowly and his lips nearing her own at a speed she'd very greatly like to rectify. "If I'm not mistaken, that's what you asked me to call you," He waited with a small, patient smirk for the woman to open her mouth in an attempt to form a response... but before she could so much as get a word out, the man so cruelly slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her pyjama shorts and threatened her entrance with the tips of his fingers.

"I'm sorry, you were saying...?" Blue stared up at Vincent as his smile only grew wider, knowing exactly what fate was about to befall her, she set her mouth in a harsh line in an attempt to prepare herself — and yet as a single finger slipped inside of her in the very way she'd warned herself of, she couldn't help but let out a begging, disbelieving moan. In all honesty, there was nothing he relished more in the world than the sound of the girl's moans — a sound that had taken a month to get out of her. "That's a good girl,"

Mouth open, Blue arched her back in a feeble attempt to root his hand deeper inside of her. "-Please-" She whined the word feebly as his finger left her slowly and two took its place. She knew that no amount of begging would convince him to show her any mercy, he wanted to watch her as she wriggled and writhed in an attempt to gain even the slightest sense of control. Deep down, of course, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to continuously deny her in a way that reinstated his power. She loved being at his complete discretion.

"What do we say...?" He spoke the word from a proximity so close that the warmth of his breath fanned her entire face, eyes locked to her own and fingers spreading inside of her. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was scream at him.

"Thank you," The girl whispered the words as though she could hardly muster the strength to get them out. And as his hand quickened ever-so-slightly in exploring her so shamelessly, she let out a gasp she'd tried so hard to contain. After a long moment, she broke away from his eyes and buried her face in the thickness of the duvet... so much so that Vincent could only just hear her cry out as the doorbell rang. "Don't go," Faster than she thought she could, she took the man's forearm in her grip just as his hand left her and he made a movement to get up. "They'll come back if it's important," She watched with dismay as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and put his fingers in his mouth instead — though any other day she'd revel in the sight, she couldn't help but feel she was having a repeat of the morning in her father's office.

She stared at the ceiling in his absence, counting the seconds to distract herself from the dull throb that had taken to her core where his hand had been. As much as she strained to listen, she couldn't give shape to the murmurs and jingling of keys that came from down the hall and into the room. The distance was far too great; and their voices too low. Of course, she went wild with possibilities of what could have been happening. Had Marian rocked up expecting her daughter to answer the door and was now aware of their not-so-secret love affair? Had Vincent's secret girlfriend arrived to surprise her unsuspecting boyfriend? Had his parents swung by expecting to greet their son and instead met him with no shirt on, fingers smelling suspiciously like sex and with a half-naked, somewhat-pregnant and thoroughly-aroused girl splayed across his bed?

By the time the mattress beside her dipped and she found her mouth met with a firm kiss, it had been three minutes and fifty-six seconds; enough time for just about anything in the world. He could have hooked up with a mysterious stranger in the doorway just as probably as he could have murdered someone and disposed of the body. Perhaps Richard made a surprise appearance at his front door and wasn't an issue anymore. Possibly Marian. Maybe even this secret girlfriend. As quickly as the thought had arose, Blue pushed notions of her dead mother away with a haste astronomical — the last thing she wanted to be thinking of as Vincent tugged the girl's shorts to her ankles and slipped a hand inside of her underwear was her mother.

With a great deal of difficulty, Blue pressed her lips together. Four fingers. Four fingers inside of her in less than four seconds. Four fingers more than she would be able to hold a conversation with. Four fingers closer to her complete insanity. Quietly, Blue rocked her hips against the man's curious hand. Before she could brace herself, his pace quickened dangerously... in a matter of moments, she became increasingly concerned for the neighbours. "What was it?" The question came with a half-muffled groan as she watched his jaw flex and felt his fingers spread — he knew she knew it was his way to get her to stop talking; and effective at that.

"Nothing that can't wait,"

Just as she opened her mouth to repeat the question, she felt his hand somehow quicken even further. "Stop," She gasped the command as though she, herself, wasn't quite sure if she meant it. With a slight frown and a hand twisting in the sheets beneath her, she attempted to reassert herself. "Vincent, stop."

Pausing, her met her eyes with a certain expression that gave Blue the impression he knew she didn't entirely mean it. "Do you want me to stop?" Furtively, she raised her head from the mattress beneath her in an attempt to amend their distance and meet his mouth in a kiss... She watched with a hardening frown as he inched away from her only slightly.

"No!"

Pushing her underwear to the side with the very tips of his fingers and brushing her core with a motion intended only to drive the woman wild, he murmured lowly as he lowered his mouth to brush against her own. "Tell me what you want, Blue..."

"This isn't fair," Blue whimpered shamelessly as his hand slid down her thigh and gripped her knee instead. Just as it did, she found herself whispering; breathless. "No, again..."

"What do you want me to do?" Vincent grumbled the words as though he had no clue what she wanted — he knew, of course, what she wanted exactly quite well. She wanted him to finish her off. She wanted him to take her over the edge and she didn't want him to stop there. She wanted him to keep at it until she begged him to stop.

Tentatively, Vincent steadied his fingertips against the girl's stomach and used his thumb to brace her peak. With little more warning than his mouth covering her own, he strummed the pinnacle of her sensitivity in a way that made her toes curl and her knees flex desperately. She found herself arching her neck and breaking her mouth from his own — and before she could stifle the exclamation, a rather loud yelp of the word yes escaped her open mouth and she found herself biting into her wrist to silence what would have been a rather crude declaration of complete and utter bliss. With knees that jerked before she could still them and shaking hands that fumbled for Vincent's shoulders desperately, she found herself almost completely forgetting about the fact that he had used sex as a way to silence her... and she had loved it.

"Vincent," She choked out the word with a rough voice as she let her arm fall back beside her and felt the man tug her shorts back over her hips. Before she could so much as inhale to prepare what exactly she wanted to say, she found his lips twisting with her own and his tongue searching for hers. "Let me talk-"

Breaking away from her only slightly, he spoke few words that warped his breath with her own. Their opened mouths brushed, and their eyes connected in a way that agreed silently there was nothing they wanted less than to be talking. Blue's curiosity, however, always overcame all other desires. "I don't want you to worry, I'll handle it,"

"But what is it? What happened?" She mumbled the words and lifted her hips to allow him to wrap his arms around her. With a smile he couldn't fight, he tugged the girl into a firm embrace and met her lips eagerly. With little conviction at all, Blue broke from his kiss. Again, her curiosity seemed to triumph over any sexual desire. "Tell me." In that moment, her voice was far too firm for his liking.

"Richard sent you over a car thinking only you lived here... the poor valet driver thought he was delivering an engagement gift from Richard to his beloved fiancé," He paused as Blue's frown smoothed over. "I'll get someone to look at it and see if it's safe to use,"

"I don't want it,"

"Then I'll sell it,"

"I don't want the money,"

"Then I'll get rid of it,"

"You can't just make a car disappear-"

"I'll get rid of it."

Blue found herself swallowing with some degree of difficulty as Vincent's hands slipped beneath her shirt and gently braced the skin of her back. Slackening ever-so-slightly in his grip, she allowed him to meet her mouth with his own... this time it was her tongue to search tentatively for his.

Her kiss only seemed to strengthen as he slipped a hand from beneath her shirt and tangled his fingers through her hair. After a long moment of debate, Blue drew back; eyes wild and stare firm, she begged shyly for his gaze. As their eyes connected and his fingers twirled so gently through her hair, she spoke before she could give it much thought at all. "I love you, too,"

Though it took a few moments for her to consider the full weight of what she had said, she shivered almost instantly.