Mr Garcia (Mr Series)

I march to the bedroom to get dressed. I don’t know where the hell I’ll go, but I need to get away from him.

“Where are you going?” he calls.

“Out.”

“There are cameras out there.”

I tear through my overnight bag looking for a shirt. Damn, this living between two houses pisses me off. “Do I look like I care?”

“April…”

“So, help me God, Sebastian, stay away from me. I’m so furious with you, I can’t even stand it.”

“I didn’t lie to you. Ever,” he argues. “I saw the call on my register in the seconds before I was elected. The cameras were on me, and then with everything going on, I completely forgot about it. And the other things I thought were standard practice.”

“So, when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now.”

Gah.

This man is fucking infuriating, I yank my pants on.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you. Out.”

“I don’t want you leaving the house.”

“And I don’t want to be here with you, so tough fucking shit.”

I grab my handbag and open the front door in a rush. I glance down and see four security guards standing around on duty. They have no idea of the Armageddon going on up here.

Damn it, if I leave, they’re going to have to come with me.

They have to. It’s policy.

Why the hell is Sebastian the Prime Minister? It’s annoying and damn inconvenient.

Fuck it, what do I do now?

I’m so angry that I can’t see straight. The very last thing I want to deal with is being followed as I drive around the streets trying to calm myself down.

I close the door and turn to see satisfaction flash across Sebastian’s face.

My God, I’m about to go postal.

I inhale deeply.

Calm, calm. Keep fucking calm.

I storm back to the kitchen. I dish my dinner onto a plate, grab a knife and fork, and I pick up the bottle of wine. I don’t need a glass. I’ll drink it straight from the damn bottle. I march back up the hall.

“Are you not eating with me?” he calls.

I slam the bedroom door shut.

No, I’m not, fucker.

I turn the lock.

And you’re officially in the doghouse.

I wake alone.

The bed was lonely last night, and I feel sad today.

I’ve been married for weeks, and look at the fucking mess my marriage is in.

Who knew that my capabilities of marrying asshole men would be so high?

I roll over and stare at the wall as I try to brace myself for the upcoming day. I have to go to work and deal with a million questions from everyone about the scandal that’s all over the news.

That’s the last of my worries.

A baby. His baby.

My chest constricts. I couldn’t stand it.

A part of him and a part of her mixed together to form a child.

I imagine Sebastian going to pick the baby up and seeing Helena. Then, dropping the baby back to her.

They would always have that together, and I know that Sebastian being Sebastian he would dote on the child…and look after its mother. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.

My stomach rolls. It makes me feel sick.

I think for a moment. Can a paternity test be taken while pregnant or do you have to wait for the baby to be born?

Hmm. I grab my phone and type into Google:

Can a paternity test be taken while still pregnant?

DNA testing can be completed as early as 9 weeks along. Technological advancements mean there’s little risk to mom or baby. If establishing paternity is something that you need to do, non-invasive prenatal paternity test (NIPP) is a blood test that analyzes fetal DNA found in a pregnant woman’s blood during the first trimester.

Shit, it’s just a blood test. That should be easy enough.

I type into Google:

Can a pregnant woman be forced to take a paternity test for her unborn child?

Prenatal paternity testing is for ‘peace of mind’ purposes only and is not admissible in a court of law. Most courts will require a legally admissible Paternity test to be performed after the baby has been born to confirm paternity.

I wince as pain throbs in my forehead. I shut down Google in disgust.

Even just looking at this crap gives me a fucking headache.

I hear the front door to the apartment close, and I walk out into the hall. Sebastian isn’t here. He must have left.

Hmm, typical.

I mean, I didn’t want to speak to him, anyway, but I would have preferred him to grovel… or at least try.

I’m making myself a cup of coffee when I hear an echo going on outside, followed by loud voices and yelling. What’s going on now?

I quietly open the front door, and I listen. I can hear Sebastian’s voice bellowing from downstairs.

I frown. Who’s he yelling at?

“What do you mean?” he yells.

I hear someone reply, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

“I don’t care how many people it takes.”

Another reply from someone I can’t hear fully.

“Find her!” he bellows. “I want charges pressed today.”

Ah, he must be talking to Bart or the police or someone.

“Mr. Prime Minister?” someone calls.

He replies, and I can hear his voice is getting closer. Shit. He must be coming back upstairs to our apartment. Damn this Prime Minister residence. I just want some privacy.

I quietly close the door and run up the hall to get into the shower and make it look like I wasn’t listening.

I wash myself as my mind spins at a million miles per minute. Good, I’m glad he’s angry. I want charges laid against the bitch today, too.

I shower and dress into my work clothes, a black pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse. I apply my makeup. I may as well look decent seeing as though the eyes of the entire United Kingdom are on me.

Ugh, I’m seriously over this. If only they knew what was going on behind closed doors.

I can hear the coffee machine running in the kitchen. Hmm, so he came back into the apartment and didn’t come looking for me.

Typical.

I pull the top drawer out to put my watch on, and I stare down at the organized drawer compartments. One of the boxes has an empty space. Why does that space look weird?

Hmm. I put on my watch and go into the bathroom to straighten my hair.

I’m meeting Jeremy for breakfast. I need to vent.

Damn Sebastian has gotten me furious, and if there is anyone who I know won’t judge, it’s Jeremy.

I slip on my stilettos and open the top drawer again. What is missing from that drawer?

I try to remember how it normally looks, and then the penny drops. My passport.

He wouldn’t dare.

Adrenaline begins to pump through my system, and, like a mad woman, I march down the hall. I find him in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

I put my hands on my hips. “Where’s my passport, Sebastian?”

His eyes meet mine as he sips his coffee. He raises his eyebrow, unimpressed.

No longer scared, this man is angry.

Bring it on because I’m ready to fucking rumble.

“I asked you a question. Where is my passport?”

“With mine.”

“And where would that be?”

“In a safe place.”

The last of my temper together snaps in spectacular fashion, and I explode. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“What I heard is that you’re a controlling asshole.”

He puts his coffee cup down, and it clangs on the counter. “Do not push me today, April. I am not in the mood for your dramatic fucking bullshit.” He bellows.

My eyes bulge. “You are not in the mood for my bullshit?” I point to my chest.

“That’s what I said. Use your ears and listen.”

Oh my God. I see red.

“Listen here, you condescending prick. You don’t get to take my passport. If I want to go anywhere, I will be going, with or without your permission.”

He glares at me.

“Don’t give me that look, Sebastian. I won’t have it.”

“And don’t you lock me out of my own fucking bedroom.” He slams his hand on the kitchen counter. “Do you fucking understand me?”

That’s it.

I turn and storm to the bedroom to get my handbag.

That’s it.

He remains in the kitchen drinking his coffee and, damn it, I have to have one last say.

I march back to him. “Don’t you dare get angry at me for being upset that my new husband is a liar,” I cry. “Do you have any idea how disappointing that is?”

“There’s only one liar in this room, and we both know who that is,” he growls.

I screw up my face. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“I believe the words were for better or worse,” he sneers sarcastically.

Our wedding vows. My heart drops.

He jumps from his chair, unable to hold his raging bull temper. “If this isn’t the worst, April, I don’t fucking know what is,’ he yells. “The very first hurdle we face, you make me do it alone.” He throws his hands up in defeat and then walks out the door, slamming it hard.

My eyes well with tears.

Fuck.

I sit in the café waiting for Jeremy. I keep going over what Sebastian said to me before he left. You make me do it alone.

I hate that he sees it like that, and I wonder if this is what happened with him and Helena. He had an issue, and she locked him out and made him face the problem alone. Their sex life was both of their problem. But did she make him feel like it was only his? Then, being the stubborn bastard that he is, did he get so resentful that he locked her out in return?

Both of them not speaking, in separate beds. I wonder how long they lived like that.

Days, weeks, months?

I exhale heavily. Well, I’m too angry at this stage to even think about it anymore. I’m not letting him turn this around on me.

I haven’t done anything wrong.

I never once said that I was blaming him for this, only that he should have told me the facts at the time in which they happened. And how dare he say that I’m making him face this alone when it was his choice not to tell me about it in the first place? He chose to do this alone, not the other way around.

Seriously, is open communication in a marriage really too much to ask for?

“Sorry I’m late.” Jeremy smiles and falls into the chair.

I give him a weak smile.

His face falls. “Are you okay?”

“Been better.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

He holds his hands up. “I wouldn’t, you know that.”

“Sebastian’s ex-wife threw in a bombshell when I stopped the blackmailing situation.”

He frowns, waiting for me to go on.

“She said she’s fourteen weeks pregnant with Sebastian’s baby.”

“What?” He gasps. “They’ve still been sleeping together?”

“Apparently, it was the night he and Bart were drugged in Bath. Helena says that he called her and asked her to come to him, but Sebastian says he remembers nothing.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Can men even ejaculate when they’re unconscious?”

“Apparently.” I drag my hand down my face.

“Fucking hell.” He takes my hand over the table. “Do you believe him?”

“Am I an idiot if I do?” I wince.

He shrugs.

“I honestly don’t believe he would do this.” I think for a moment. “And not just to me, but in general. I know he loves me, and I really can’t see him calling her. Especially not for sex. They aren’t even on speaking terms. But then, if he was drugged…”

Jeremy’s eyes widen as another train of thought crosses his mind, “Hang on. So, did Helena drug them?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

He frowns. “Because if she drugged them, that means Bart’s wife is telling the truth and…” His eyes widen. “Bart did order the prostitutes himself like she is saying.”

I hold my temples. “This is one big fucking nightmare.”

“Hi,” a voice interrupts us.

“Oh, hi.” Jeremy fakes a smile. “Oliver this is April.”

“Hi, April.”

“Hi.”

Oliver pulls out a chair and sits down. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

Damn it, not now Oliver, whoever you are. I’m in the middle of a serious crisis here.

Oliver chats on and on, and I really have to get to work.

Ugh…

“I have to go.” I smile.

“I’ll see you tonight, darling,” Jeremy says.

“Tonight?”

“We have the welcome dinner.”

I frown, confused.

“You know, the celebratory dinner. It’s at Market Street in the ballroom. Black tie? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

Oh, crap, I completely had. “That’s right,” I lie.

Great, another dress I have to find today, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have time for this black-tie bullshit.

“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask.

“Sure, baby.” Jeremy stands and kisses my cheek. “Sorry,” he whispers in my ear.

“Nice to meet you, Oliver.” I smile and make a dash for the door, I text Sebastian.

What time is tonight?

A reply bounce’s in:

I don’t expect you to come.

I narrow my eyes. Don’t piss me off, fucker.

Don’t be cute. What time?

I wait for his answer.

Seven.

Fuck, he’s infuriating. Hot headed twat.

I click out of my phone in disgust. Don’t mess with me today, Sebastian, or I will end you.

“Are you ready?” Sebastian asks.

I hold my hands out. “Do I look ready?”

Sebastian glances over. His eyes skim down the length of me in my evening gown. “How would I know?”

I roll my eyes. I was going to try and make up with him tonight—apologize for not being empathetic enough to his circumstance—but it isn’t even about the Helena secrets now. It’s about him being a fucking pig. I’m not standing for it.

“Where’s my charming husband who tells me that I look lovely?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s sleeping on the couch.”

I narrow my eyes.

And he’s about to get smothered with said couch cushions.

I fake a smile. “Witty.”

We walk to the door, and he puts his arm out. “Are you ready to act excited to be on my arm tonight?”

I link my arm through his, and he opens the front door. “Not as excited as I am for a drink,” I reply dryly.

He rolls his lips, unimpressed. “You’re turning into a raging alcoholic.”

“Any wonder why.”

We walk down the stairs to see the four guards waiting on the bottom floor. They all drop their heads in tandem, none of them daring to make eye contact with me.

Yellow bellied chickens.

My temper gets an injection of fury.

Damn this man.

He has the entire house staff running scared of his temper, and now he has the hide not to talk to me. Well, he’s too late, because I’m not talking to him.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia,” one guard says.

“Good evening,” we both reply with a fake smile.

We walk out to the front of the house. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia,” Kevin says, holding the back door open. Sebastian takes my hand to help me in.

“Hello, Kevin.” I smile as I get into the back seat, and Sebastian gets in behind me. The door closes, and we sit in silence throughout the drive.

I get vivid recollections of how much Sebastian Garcia could infuriate me back in the day. Nobody could wind me up like him.

Nothing’s changed.

Calm, calm, keep fucking calm.

The car pulls up at the ballroom. We get out, and Sebastian takes my hand. We fake more smiles and walk through the crowd as if we are the happiest couple of all.

“Where are our seats?” Sebastian whispers, passing me a champagne from a passing tray.

“What’s wrong, darling?” I whisper, taking a sip. “Tired of holding my hand?”

His angry eyes flick over to me. “I am, actually.”

I glare at him, our eyes locked. “Please, don’t act happy on my behalf.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve acted happy now, would it?”

Adrenaline begins to pump through my system. I lean over to him and put my mouth to his ear. “Keep being an asshole, Sebastian, and this drink is going over your head. I don’t give a flying fuck where we are.”

He narrows his eyes. “Try it and see what happens to you. I dare you.”

I see red. Game on.

“Garcia!” someone calls, interrupting my impending explosion.

“Morton.” Sebastian nods and they shake hands. “This is my wife April.”

I fake a smile. “Hello.” I shake Morton’s hand.

“Congratulations on your marriage. Sebastian talks so fondly of you.” The man smiles.

My eyes flicker to Sebastian. “I’m sure he does.”

Fury blazes in Sebastian’s eyes, and I know for certain that we need to get away from each other before I lose my shit and really do tip my drink over the Prime Minister’s head.

Fucker.

I step back and glance over to see Jeremy who waves.

“I see someone I know. Will you excuse me, please?” I ask the two of them.

“Of course.” Sebastian smiles sweetly. “Please, do take your time.”

I grit my teeth. God help me. “Thank you… sweetheart. You’re always so thoughtful.”

He glares at me, and I glare right back.

I make my way over to Jeremy and kiss his cheek. “You look ravishing.” He coos.

“Thank you. You, too.” I sip my champagne. “I’m about to punch Sebastian in the nose,” I whisper.

“Excellent,” he replies without missing a beat. He glances over to him. “I take it you still aren’t talking.”

“He’s being a prick.”

He shrugs. “Well… he is Sebastian Garcia. What do you expect?”

I roll my eyes. He has the reputation of being an asshole. Tonight, I see why.

Loud and clear.

Four hours later, I glance over at Sebastian sitting beside me in the back of the car. We are on our way home. Sebastian is staring out the window, a million miles away.

We haven’t spoken all night, and the ridiculous part is that we aren’t even fighting over the major issue at hand.

The baby.

I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening, and I feel like things are unravelling between us at the speed of light.

Both of us are slipping into old habits. Him, silent and bitter. Me, expecting more, itching to fight.

I hate this.

He drags his hand through his hair. He looks so sad, my heart bleeds. Unable to help it, I reach over and take his hand in his lap. He closes his fingers around it.

“You know that I love you,” I whisper.

He nods softly, remaining silent. His gaze stays out the window to the scenery passing by, and my heart constricts. That was my olive branch.

Nothing in return.

The car pulls up to a halt, and the door opens. Sebastian climbs out and takes my hand to help me out. We walk up the steps and open the front door.

He drops my hand and walks straight up to the bedroom. I hear the shower turn on.

I exhale heavily. God.

I make myself a cup of tea and try to figure out a plan of attack. I don’t want to get into a fight. We’re already at each other’s throat.

I hate this.

I hear the shower turn off. I wait ten minutes before I head into the bedroom, Sebastian is in bed and lying on his side with his back to me. I watch him for a moment before I head into the shower. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. I can only assume it’s not good.

Twenty minutes later, I climb in behind him. His anger has gone, replaced with sadness. Like a river, I can feel it oozing out of him. I slide over and cuddle his back. He stays motionless.

“Seb, darling, are you alright?” I whisper.

“I can’t do this.”

I frown. Do what?

“She can’t have my child, April.”

My eyes well with tears.

“I… I… I can’t hand my child over to her. I didn’t give her this baby. She took it.” His voice cracks, betraying his hurt.

I close my eyes.

Fuck.

What the hell is wrong with me, never once considering what this means for him if it is true? All I’ve been worried about is my selfish self.

I roll him over and take him into my arms to hold him, his head nestled into my neck.

He’s distraught, and rightfully so.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper as I hold him tight. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.” I kiss his temple, “I promise you. It will be okay.”

He stares straight ahead with a cold detachment, and I kiss his neck. I slide my hand lower. We haven’t made love for so long. Perhaps, if we did…

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He’s too sad, even for sex.

I kiss his forehead as I hold him close. “Go to sleep, Seb. Tomorrow’s a new day. It’s going to be okay.”

I wake with a strange sensation. It’s dawn, and the other side of the bed is empty.

I sit up instantly, my senses on high alert.

I make my way downstairs, where I can hear a muffled voice coming from Sebastian’s study. I creep down the hall to listen.

“Yes,” he says. “That’s right, the arrest warrant has been withdrawn.”

Helena.

My heart begins to beat hard. Why did he have that removed?

Nobody is looking for her.

“You know what to do,” he says calmly.

My eyes widen.

I push the door open in a rush, and he steps back, shocked to see me. He’s fully dressed in his suit, ready for work.

“What are you doing?” he asks sharply.

I stare at him, confused. “What are you doing?”

He marches down the hall. His overnight bag is packed by the front door.

“W-where are you going?” I stammer as I run after him.

“I have to go away for work for a few days.”

Panic surrounds me. “Where to?”

“Winchester.”

Gone is the upset man of last night. This man is cold and calculating.

Determined.

This doesn’t feel right. Something’s going on here.

“I’ll come,” I tell him.

“No, I don’t have time to wait for you to get ready. I have a breakfast meeting. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.” He kisses me softly and brushes the hair back from my face. “I love you.”

I stare at him, fear infiltrating my system.

“Seb.” I hold his hands in front of me. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” I plead.

“I’m going.” He tries to pull away from me.

I hold his hands tighter in mine. “Sebastian.” My eyes search his. “What are going to do?”

“What needs to be done.”

My heartbeat thumps hard in my chest.

Helena’s in danger.