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Chapter 6

Alex

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Jonas sat and stayed quiet for once as I filled out a form, answered all the questions. He knew when and how to remain silent, because of his soldier’s training.

He knew when I was upset from his time with me, and from all the foolishness I’d endured at his hand, and the times he’d been incarcerated from marrying underage women, and when Crystal sued him for child and spousal support, to which he knew well from dealing with attorneys who told him to shut up and let them do the talking.  

When the nurse called my name, and I stood, our eyes locked, and he glanced knowingly at me like a child who had been forbidden to cross the street without his parents. Jonas knew not to go against my request when I asked him to stay outside in the waiting room. He knew how to wait in a hospital waiting room, because he’d been there for me with my other children when they were born, and when Max wasn’t there for me.

The nurse glanced over holding the door, and said, “Mr. Blackstone, you can accompany your wife if you want to.”

“I’d prefer to wait here,” he said, gathering side views from the pregnant women sitting waiting for their names to be called, with their husbands holding their hands.

Before I strode into the doctor’s office, I paused long enough to hear someone ask, “Mr. Maximillian Blackstone?” The man didn’t give Jonas a chance to tell the truth, that he only had the face of Maximillian Blackstone, and now he could claim it as his own, but did not wish to do so, especially not now.

“I saw your picture in a billionaire magazine. You even did an interview on the Billionaire morning show in England, and I happened to be lucky enough to see you and shake your hand at a seminar your company hosted.”

As I walked through the doors, I paused once more to take a look at Jonas. He seemed uneasy and no doubt he would be, because he knew little or nothing about finances, and if the guy insisted on asking any more questions, he’d get up and leave without a word.

Jonas’s body language said it all, he didn’t want to be bothered, especially in a doctor’s office, because at this moment he was Maximillian Blackstone, and everyone who saw that face knew he’d been too rich to have to put up with anyone who would invade his privacy, and nothing could be as private as having to answer personal questions, and being identified in a public place like a doctor’s waiting room.

I sat in an examining room, dreading the invasive things that some doctors would do. And there had to be pictures to make sure what his hands couldn’t find, pictures would and pictures didn’t lie, Jonas had said when I saw a photo of him and his first wife. She looked even younger sitting next to him on their wedding day in some bridal church off the Las Vegas strip.

When my mind wandered for a few minutes the doctor knocked and entered the room looking awkward, uncomfortable, and nervous. “You’re young,” I blurted out in surprise. “I’d expected someone older. I glanced at his name plate to make sure he was who they said. The same way they asked thousands of questions to make sure you were the right person.

“Your husband asked for me. I’m the best at what I do,” he assured.

“I don’t doubt that, but are you going to give me an exam too?” At this point I wasn’t comfortable having a young man my age touching me. Christian had been young like this doctor, and the thought of Christian touching me, pawing over me had been too traumatic and too recent for me to forget. Maybe I’d never forget what transpired on his yacht. Maybe I needed to lie down on someone’s couch, but I knew I never would.

“It’s customary, to do a physical exam, I mean,” the doctor said in a drone voice, as if thinking about his answer.

“Can’t I get used to you first. Maybe my next visit?”

“Yes. We can, if all your vitals are sound. I’ll send you for tests that aren’t invasive and have my nurse take pictures of the baby. You know you’re pregnant, and by the tests you took at home, I’ll put you on vitamins. Your last visit to the clinic we confirmed it when we tested your urine. When you’re twenty-five weeks into your pregnancy, the second trimester, we’ll take pictures to see how the baby is doing. ”

That sounded great to me. The last thing I needed was to have a young strange man’s hand inside my private area, probing for what I didn’t know. Pictures should be all that they needed, it wasn’t like we were in the stone age.