Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) (41 page)
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Authors: Shannon Dobson
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The pitter-patter of the rain against the high-rise windows soothed me. The intermittent flashes of electric bolts in the sky grounded me and the booming crashes of the thunder bought me a sense of peace I couldn’t and wouldn’t find anywhere else. It bought me back to solid ground.
I stood by my floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in my trouser’s pocket, the other clutching a crystal tumbler as though it were my salvation. It rested against my chest, the scent of the whiskey strong and overpowering. I allowed it to infiltrate my body and bring me to reason.
I could see my reflection as I stared out in to the darkened night. My dark brown wayward hair was brushed backwards from my hands continuously running through it. My eyes, normally a midnight blue, appeared nearly black, empty and hollow against my crinkled face; the stress from the previous day showing evidently in every line, wrinkle and crease. My shirt and trousers clung tightly to my body, my jacket strewn carelessly against the back of the sofa. My tie lies loosely around my neck, my top button undone and showering the tiniest smattering of chest hair.
At thirty-two years old, I was worth a fair bit of money but I had worked hard for every penny and pound of my wealth, strived to create a successful business that helped save lives and council those who desperately needed it.
I had worked my arse off at university for over six years, finally earning the title Dr Reynolds. I was a doctor of psychology, but I no longer practised my acquired profession, instead I used my abilities to start up retreats for abused people, guiding other psychologists and support workers to make people’s lives better.
My job demanded a lot of my time and attention, I shouldn't have this amount of heartache and stress on me. I couldn’t handle worrying about anything unnecessary.
If it were for my own emotional welfare and sanity the answer would be simple; it would be a straight forward, no-way-in-hell, no. But I didn’t just have myself to think of anymore, there was a child involved and I couldn’t and didn’t want to be known as the part-time father who couldn’t be bothered with his own son or daughter.
Lilian had been a sneaky, conniving bitch, but she now held my baby inside her body and there was no way on this earth I was losing rights to my child. I would fight her tooth and nail for parental rights. The only problem was, I didn’t want joint custody; seeing my child on weekends or when I was allowed. I wanted to be there for my child every moment I could.
I had the money to give my baby the best life imaginable. A proper upbringing, an amazing education and opportunities in life I hadn’t had. My parents were brilliant but they weren’t rich. I had grown up in an average house, on an average street with average neighbours. I couldn’t fault my mum and dad for anything, they loved me unconditionally and would still, to this very day -even as they approach seventy years old- do anything for me. They would be over the moon about becoming grandparents to my child and I knew their love for this baby would outweigh its own mothers by miles.
Lilian wanted me, that’s all she wanted from this. The child was just a means to an end with her. When she approached me four months after I had laid eyes on her, she had dropped a sonogram on my desk and told me the jelly-bean shaped greyness was mine.
Staring at the foetus had brought me a sense of pride and happiness I had never felt before. Earning my first million, buying my first home and graduating college hadn’t compared to the elation seeing my own child had brought.
At that point I had no intentions of being with her, no intentions of having more contact than necessary, she was a one night stand for heaven’s sake, but she had been brutal and there wasn’t a hope in hell, no magic lamp with a three-wish genie, that could get me out this mess.
‘You are going to marry me, Dustin, you are going to marry me or I will terminate this… thing and I will tell everyone, the press, the paparazzi, every news station I can contact, that you forced me in to having the abortion.’ A lump, the size of Great Britain, had formed in my throat that very second, clogging my airways and making the bile in the pit of my stomach rise.
How? How could a person be so heartless and despicable? I didn’t care if she lied and said I forced her to abort the child, but there was no way I would let her terminate this pregnancy and destroy the first life I had created. When the child was born, then I would take legal action and gain full custody of my baby.
The lights illuminating the skyline drowned me in tranquillity, I felt a thousand feet tall in my tower, watching down as small lights from the passing cars were barely visible. Nobody down below could see me, knowing I was watching them, but I could see them.
I’ve always craved a little control, demanded respect and admiration from those around me. Unless it was my mother, that woman had me under the thumb. I would do anything she asked or ordered. Mainly out of respect, sorry I mean fear.
You didn’t disrespect Carol Reynolds, not if you wanted to live. You disrespect my mother and my father will have you hanging from a tenth story window by your ankles, quicker than you can say sorry. His age didn’t stop him, nor did the bad back he had acquired from too much hard labour over his life-time.
Just thinking about my folks brought a smile to my face, even as my current circumstances dampened my usual happy mood. My staff liked me, or so I liked to think. I was a good boss, my employees had great benefits, a support network that was thorough and would apply any means necessary to make sure every single member was happy. I didn’t care if someone was the photocopy boy or the management of a retreat, they were offered the same level of care.
Lilian had ruined a place I found comforting. Entering my office yesterday and slapping me with the news of impending fatherhood had made me joyful, until she ruined it with her vile threat.
I was somewhat excited to visit my parents tomorrow, to give them a copy of the sonogram I had taken from Lilian. I could already picture the smile in my mother’s turquoise green eyes. My father would hug me, slapping my back as he laughed with happiness. My brother, Donovan, would be over the moon. With two children of his own, I knew how much my mother and father enjoyed doting on children. He would hand me a cigar, a cheap one, but with such pride that I would smoke the damn thing anyway.
I had offered all of my family financial assistance when I became wealthy, but all declined, stating it was my money and they were happy with their lives. My mother and father had no idea I paid their mortgage repayments every month and that the money they put towards the repayments was deterred to a savings account. I would present them with it on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They deserved a break, deserved the around-the-world trip they had both always wanted.
Donovan, older than I by six years, worked as an electrician. His sixty grand a year job made him happy and content. His beautiful wife and two daughters were safe and healthy and that was all any of them could ask for.
I was happy as long as they were.
Savings accounts were set up for all my family, without their knowledge, but I would give them the money they deserved when the time was right. I would pay every last damn penny I had, to make sure their lives ran smooth and safe.
Clutching my now-empty glass, I sighed. I needed to get my head together and grasp whatever control I had left.
I walked away from the window, placing the crystal tumbler on the kitchen unit, before retreating to my room. I stripped out of my suit, brushed my teeth and climbed in to bed.
Switching the bedroom light off, I stared at the ceiling in the darkness.
At three in the morning I finally allowed sleep to consume me.