Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211

DOMINIC

The first thing I registered was the ceiling. White. High. The second thing was the weight in my limbs, a heaviness that pressed me into the mattress like I had been filled with lead instead of blood. I tried to move my hand and it barely twitched. I tried to lift my head and my neck refused to cooperate.

Then I heard her voice.

“You left me no choice, Dominic.”

I turned my head slowly, the muscles in my neck screaming in protest, and found my grandmother sitting in a chair beside the bed. Her hands were folded in her lap, her posture perfect, her silver hair pinned in a neat bun. She looked exactly as she always did. Composed. Respectable. Like a woman who had never done anything wrong in her entire life.

“Granny,” I said. Or tried to say. It came out as a croak, my throat dry and raw.

She leaned forward, her eyes soft but unyielding. “I am your grandmother, Dominic. I have only ever wanted what is best for you. You have to understand that.”

“What did you do to me?”

“What I gave you is strong but it will wear off. I would never hurt you, my boy. I love you too much for that.”

I tried to sit up. My arms shook. My head pounded. I managed to lift my shoulders an inch off the mattress before my strength gave out and I collapsed back onto the pillows, my breath coming in short ragged gasps.

“Imelda is a good girl, Dominic. A pure girl. She comes from a wealthy family, she does not need anything from you except your heart. But those other women, the ones you surround yourself with, they are all gold diggers. Every single one of them. They are after your wealth, your name, your status. They do not love you.”

I forced the words out. “Celeste is not like that.”

“Celeste is the worst of them all,” my grandmother said, her voice hardening. “She is married, Dominic. Married. The shamelessness of that woman. She is a disgrace. She is everything that is wrong with this generation.”

I wanted to argue, to defend Celeste, to tell my grandmother that she did not know the first thing about her. But my tongue felt thick and my thoughts were slow, sluggish, like they were moving through honey.

My grandmother stood up and smoothed her dress. “I have spoken with Imelda. She understands what needs to be done. This is a good opportunity for both of you, Dominic. Once she is pregnant with your child, you will forget every other woman. You will focus on her and the baby. You will be happy. I am doing this for you.”

She walked to the door. Paused. Looked back at me with an expression I could not read.

Imelda walked in.

She was wearing a black dress, simple and elegant, the her falling just above her knees. Her hair was down, her face carefully made up. She looked exactly like the kind of girl my grandmother would want me to marry.

But she looked terrified.

“Get out of my room,” I said. The words came out rough, almost a whisper, but she heard them.

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