Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance For Adults (12 page)

“
We
shall arrange that as soon as she leaves ICU; so perhaps in the
morning.” The doctor looked to everyone standing there looking
expectantly at him. “Only one at a time.”

As the doctor left
Inga turned to Bjorn, “See, she’s strong.”

Samara started to
notice the coolness of the air around her, faint noises but in a
second they were secondary to the dull pain she felt all over her
body. She tried to recall where she was and how she got there. The
beeping machine encompassed with her heart beat was a tell-tale sign
she was at some kind of medical facility, but why? Then she
remembered, the nightmares, the pain…blackout.

My baby!

She wanted to move
her hands and check on her stomach but found that she couldn’t.
Opening her eyes was a problem. She tried to speak, to scream, call
for help but her mouth was also paralyzed. The beeps from what she
assumed was the heart monitor were increasing rapidly. She figured it
was because she was terrified…

She was finding out
that moving any part of her body hurt. So she lay there praying for
answers. She wasn’t sure how much time went by before a nurse
came in. She did something to her arm; there was a pinprick and she
felt her heart rate beep slowing down. She also found that she could
open her eyes.

“
You’re
awake. How are you feeling?”

“
In
pain.” She said finding to her relief that her mouth was
working too.

“
We
don’t want that,” the nurse checked the drip. “I
will give you something for the pain.”

“
Will
it make me sleep?”

“
Yes.
That’s how your body recovers.”

“
Then
don’t.”

“
Do
it.” Alison was by her bedside, and had woken up in time to
hear her refusing the meds.

“
Alison...”

“
You
need to rest and your body needs to recover.”

As she saw her lose
the battle against sleep, “I love you.”

“
I
love you too.”

Alison must have
figured she was asleep when she said, “Bjorn is here too. He’s
outside pacing. He seems worried.”

“
Tell
him the baby’s still here,” Samara mumbled, then her eyes
opened wide staring at her sister. “The baby is fine right?”

Alison drew in a
breath, “Yeah. The baby is fine. Now sleep.”

*****

Samara was at a
Maternity Clinic.

Samara was alone at a
Maternity Clinic.

She shuffled her feet
against the linoleum underneath her, diamond shaped patterns in the
floor, some were white, some were a dull pink color, and the
remaining ones were a cross between navy and sky blue. Her hands were
clasped tightly in front of her, soft half moon indentations
lingering on her skin.

Alison was in town
with Amy, they went to get groceries, and Samara wasn’t allowed
to come with. A growl of frustration tumbled its way out of her
throat, and she glanced around in apprehension. She didn’t know
what to do in these places. Mom hadn’t survived long enough to
teach her, and she had basically been raised to avoid getting on the
CPS radar by avoiding hospitals. There was nothing remotely
comfortable about her situation.

There was pretty-soft
maternity scent in there, berries and light summer rains, pumpkins
and candles. Samara fidgeted in her seat and tugged Alison’s
coat closer around her body. She was always fucking cold these days.

She wanted Bjorn
there.

Wanted him to answer
all the damn questions and fill out the paperwork, and generally do
everything Samara’s been too tired to do lately. Samara would
even let Bjorn take charge, which seemed to be numbers one, two, and
three on his list of favorite things to do.

Samara had lost
weight, looked more like she did at eighteen, then she should at 25.
She was still tall but her waist is tiny, with well-defined abs,
thanks to her less than stellar diet, and her daily workout regimen.
Her abdomen was making way for her kid now, and she was four and a
half months along. She knew, well enough, that she was halfway
through her pregnancy, but she was not terribly sure how she’s
going to survive the other half.

She attempted to
smother the fear she could feel herself emitting, didn’t want
to frighten the other mothers and fathers with the smell of mold and
neglect. She whimpered, a tiny sound in her throat, she was so sick
and tired of feeling nauseous, and she could feel how weak her kid
was, struggling to retain any food she ate.

Alison was good about
making sure she ate (forcing), but Samara was equally as proficient
at making sure her sister was out of the house when she vomited it
all back into the toilet, small dry heaves making her child restless
with distress.

Small tears trickled
down her cheeks then, and she ground her teeth together, forceful
pressure, anvil falling from a cartoon sky. She couldn’t have a
conversation with people if she was unable to keep from fucking
bawling everywhere.

“
Samara
Khaled?”

She stood up at the
mention of her name, grabbing hold of the plastic seat she’d
been sitting on as she swayed in place, dark spots twirling in front
of her vision. She could hear the nurse asking if she’s
alright, soothing voice, lemon-honey scent of concern, but it was so
hard to stand and her knees were too close to buckling.

She looked up to see
an unfamiliar face in a lab coat. Doctor, probably. The man smiled
down at her kindly, almost Bjorn’s height, and Samara shuddered
painfully and pressed cold palms to her stomach. “I think I’d
better check you out sooner than later, Ms. Khaled.” His arm
was very stable against Samara, and Samara nodded gratefully.

Jesus, this was gonna
kill her, never mind custody battles.

She was shuffling,
arm in arm with the Doctor when she was assailed by a prickling
sensation on her neck. She turned, to see Bjorn standing there.

Samara hadn’t
had the strength left to groan in objection, but her inner child was
purring contentedly, mocking Samara’s displeasure. It was not
that she didn’t want her baby daddy with her, but she already
knew Bjorn was going to be overly-worried. Damn pain in the ass. He
had insisted on being present at every medical situation after the
whole, blackout fiasco; and she’d been trying to honor that.
But today was supposed to be in and out; quick – no need to
bother anyone. How had he even known?

The look on Bjorn’s
face was thunderous and the other pregnant women seemed to shrink
back with trepidation as his violet eyes tracked her across the room.
The doctor smoothly dislodged Samara’s grip and stepped away,
hands turned upward in a placating gesture. Bjorn's expression didn't
change much, until he was at Samara’s side.

He took one cursory
look at Samara and hoisted her into his arms, bridal style, held her
with one hand, using the other to press her cold cheeks into his
flushed neck. Samara inhaled, against her will, focused on the steady
thump of Bjorn’s racing heart. He was frightened. The fear was
mostly covered with rage, fire and brimstone, but Samara could smell
the terror, all the same.

Bjorn pressed a
perfunctory kiss into her hair, spoke softly against Samara’s
skin, voice low but warm. “We’ll talk about whatever the
fuck you thought this was, later.”

It was a threat, and
Samara cringed automatically, but Bjorn hushed her and continued
brushing his hands soothingly against her. She was almost asleep when
she shook herself, because she could hear Bjorn talking.

“
Is
anything wrong with her, Doctor--” Bjorn trailed off, and she
felt Bjorn loosen a hand from her head to shake the Doctor’s
hand.

“
Dr.
Lee.”

“
So
what’s the issue here, Dr. Lee?” Samara peeked out of
almost closed eyes to see her doctor wearing a strained look on his
face. “I’m not sure. Your wife looks very weak. I haven’t
ran any tests, yet, which I was about to do when you arrived, but I’m
glad you’re here. Pregnant women tend to do well with their
partners present during this time period, and Ms. Khaled is already
looking much better.”

Bjorn didn’t
bother to correct the doctor’s wrong impression even though he
must have felt her tense in his arms.

“
Jesus.
She’s--Dr. Lee, she’s gotten so small, lately. I don’t
know what to do, I’ve been trying to make sure she eats, but,
she’s so damn tired all the time.”

Samara tightened her
hold on Bjorn’s neck, rubbing against him gently, kitten licks
against his skin. She would be stubborn later. Bjorn sounded twice as
broken as her. Alison must have been snitching big time.

“
Sometimes
she can barely walk across the room.” Dr. Lee guided Bjorn, by
the small of his back, into the clinician’s examination space,
shutting the door behind him with a squeak. “I’m going to
need to do some blood work on your wife, Mr. Fredriksen, and then I
will need a urine sample. I have an idea of what it might be, and if
my conclusions are proven correct, I’ll need to provide you
with a detailed plan of care.”

Samara could feel
Bjorn nodding, auburn hair tickling her forehead.

“
Samara,”
Bjorn whispered, and Samara sat up, dizzy spell hitting her once
more. She mewled in distress, seeking Bjorn’s neck out again,
and she
heard
Bjorn’s pained groan.

“
Ah,
baby, I’m so sorry. Baby, you gotta sit up. You could sit on my
lap, okay?”

Samara scoured
herself for a fuck to give about the indisputable fact that she was
clinging to Bjorn like a monkey, smelling him and generally acting
like a weak-willed bitch, but she was fucking sick and nothing but
Bjorn made her feel even halfway decent. So she would suck it up, for
now. Samara nodded listlessly, allowed Bjorn to manhandle her into a
forward facing position, which he did with ease, and he used his
chest to keep Samara’s head upright and facing the doctor.

“
Samara,
I’m extremely sorry that you’re in so much pain right
now. I’m trying to figure out why, but I’m going to have
to run some tests. Is that alright with you?” Samara hummed in
her throat, head becoming too heavy to respond.

“
Mr.
Fredriksen,” Dr. Lee glanced up at Bjorn as he tugged on latex
gloves. “I’ll need you to be my witness, when I fill out
the necessary paperwork, that your wife accepted and complied with
the testing.” He said. Bjorn nodded, holding Samara at the
waist tightly.

Dr. Lee looked as if
he was going to ask Samara something, and Samara whined slowly.
“Please, Doc, if you could ask Bjorn, that’d be great,
cause, I feel like shit right now.”

The Doctor smiled at
her, genuine amusement, and Samara could hear laughter rumbling in
Bjorn’s chest. “Mr. Fredriksen, could you hold out your
wife’s arm so that I could get this sample?”

Bjorn curved his hand
over Samara’s thinner one, avoiding the crease of her elbow
where the doctor would indubitably seek out a vein. Samara could hear
Bjorn murmuring to her, and she angled her neck so she could better
make out the words.

“
It’s
gonna be fine, sweetheart. I promised I’d take care of you and
our kid, right?” Samara nodded, even though she knew Dr. Lee
couldn’t hear anything, he was probably a bit taken aback.
Samara felt the slight prick of the needle, tremors at the sting,
couldn’t understand why, when she’s had worse injuries
tended to in some makeshift shack because her dad hadn’t wanted
to take her to the hospital, and hadn’t even winced.

Dr. Lee grinned.
“That’ll probably already be healed by the time we check
it again, alright?” Bjorn smiled down at Samara.

“
Okay,
Dr. Lee, what do you need next?” Doc smiled, rising from his
chair to seal and package the test tube containing Samara’s
blood. He peeled his gloves off, one inside out in the other, and
deposited them in a biohazard bag.

Samara snorted at the
sight. The medical community would have a collective heart attack if
they saw how Alison and Samara had routinely handled their potential
blood borne pathogens.

“
I
need a urine sample, and then we’re about done for the day.
I’ll schedule an appointment for when I’ll have the
results returned.”

Bjorn hummed in his
throat. “Thank you so much, Dr. Lee. I’ll make sure
Samara and I are both here, next time.” Samara tried to hiss at
Bjorn, but she was sure that came out as a whimper too, like the rest
of her butchered vocabulary.

“
I’ll
take her to the bathroom--is that one, right there?” Samara
turned her head brittle and soft, to see the door on the far side of
the room.

Dr. Lee nodded. “Yes,
we have it, just for this purpose.” Bjorn stood, Samara once
again enthroned in his arms, and Samara made her first noise of
protest of the day.

“
You
can’t walk, Samara. I’m not gonna let you fall and hurt
yourself and the kid, just cause you wanna play independent bitch.”

Samara hunched in on
herself, appropriately chastised. Bjorn didn’t usually control
her, he insisted on being kept informed about everything but
generally left her to it; but Bjorn was the father of her child.
Samara thought it was at the point where she’d better get used
to it. Bjorn was an Alpha male and more importantly, he was her baby
daddy, and he was going to be possessive and domineering.

That’s just how
it was.

Bjorn sat Samara on
the toilet, as he closed the door, and his face crumpled, just like
that. “Samara. Samara. When you weren’t there, when Amy
and Alison came back and they couldn’t find you; I thought
you--Jesus Christ, Samara, I thought you decided to run away, were
too damned angry about what I’ve--what I’ve been doing.”