Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

Chapter 90

#Chapter 90 – Brother in Law

“Oh, you poor baby!” I croon, taking a step forward and taking Rafe’s face in my hands, angling it to study his cheek. “I’m so sorry, I was so eager to get that horse fly off your face that I must have swung too hard.”

I speak loudly enough that the people nearest us can hear, my face a mask of motherly concern. But my heart is still steel, and full of hatred for this horrible man.

Rafe smirks at me, nodding his head in concession. I’ve won this one. What’s his option at this moment besides going along with me? He’s certainly not going to cry like a baby, telling everyone that I smacked him.

“Barely a sting, Evelyn,” he murmurs, raising a hand to grasp my wrist. The gesture looks to everyone else like brotherly affection, but he grips my wrist harder than he needs to.

“Better put some ice on it, then,” I say, my own voice cold. As everyone begins to turn their attention elsewhere, I drop my friendly façade and pull away from him. With a withering glare, I rip my wrist from his hand and turn away, looking for my sons.

I don’t want to admit it, but I’m a little shaken by my encounter with Rafe. Thank god Victor’s mother warned me; if that had come completely out of the blue, I don’t know what I’d have done.

As there’s nothing I can do about it now, though, I turn my attention to my children. I spot them at the long rectangular table of honor at the front of the room, speaking to a grey-haired man seated in a wheel chair. Victor is there, too, and his mother. I bite my lip as I head their way.

It’s time, I guess, to meet the patriarch.

I walk slowly up to the group gathered around the man in the wheel chair, moving behind Victor. I tug at his sleeve lightly to let him know I’m there. He turns his head and gives me a smile, making room for me in the group. Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

As Victor moves aside I am able to see my two boys standing in front of their grandfather. He speaks to them with a stern expression, but I can tell by the light in his eyes that he – like everyone else – is quite taken with my clever, handsome boys. I fold my hands together in front of me, pleased that this aspect of the night, at least, is going well.

As Henry Kensington speaks to his grandsons, I take him in. He’s distinguished, certainly, in his neatly pressed suit coat. He even has a matching blanket draped over his knees, the tassels of which fall almost to the shiny shoes which sit on the footrests of his wheelchair.

Everyone knows the story, of course, of the car accident that took Henry Kensington’s ability to walk from him. Victor was only in his early twenties at the time, an unheard-of age to take over a pack, but his father insisted on stepping down.

Many assumed it was pride that made him do it – there was no reason he couldn’t lead his pack from his chair. But Henry refused, stepping aside and leaving Victor to pick up the pieces.

Some theorize that the car accident had been a setup from a rival pack, intent on killing Henry. If it was true, that pack had assumed that Victor, as heir, would be too young to cope with leadership and that the Kensington resources would be theirs for the taking.

They had been wrong, though. In an incredibly short amount of time, Victor had transformed his father’s pack from a relic into one of the most technologically advanced and powerful packs in the nation.

Looking down at Henry Kensington, I wondered if he resented his son for his success, for rising to the challenge which he himself had declined. If he was anything like my father, that’s exactly what he would

feel.

“Marissa,” Henry’s sharp word interrupt my thoughts. He’s looking away from my boys now, up at his wife, who stands at his side. “Take these boys to get something to eat, they’re hungry.” Victor’s mother nods and follows his commands, shooting me a quick smile as she holds out hands to my boys.

The boys each take one of her hands but look to me for direction. I nod and smile at them, encouraging them to go. They follow their grandmother away.

“So,” Henry Kensington says, turning his gaze to me. He slowly looks me up and down, taking in every aspect of my form, judging me. “This is the young woman who is responsible for those boys.”

“Yes,” I say, moving a step forward and holding out my hand. “Evelyn Ortega, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Victor’s father looks at my hand with distaste and then shifts his gaze to Victor’s face. “Why is she here, Victor?”

I hesitate and then drop my hand, realizing that he has no intention of recognizing me any further. Victor’s brow lowers as he frowns, realizing the same. “She is my honored guest, father. As the mother of my two sons –“

“As the surrogate to your children,” Henry interrupts and corrects. “Get rid of her, boy. She has no place at this event. She performed a service for you, yes,” his eyes flick over me again, “and perhaps she still does. But that’s no reason to keep her around.” He sneers, and then continues. “A man painted my house the other day, but you don’t see me inviting him here.”

I turn red with embarrassment and fury as Victor’s father, like his brother, implies that I’m little more than Victor’s w***e. I move to turn away but Victor grabs my arm, holding me next to him. “Evelyn,” he growls, “is my sons’ mother, her presence here –“

“Her presence here,” his father interrupts, at once authoritative and a little bored, “is an insult to your bride. Honestly,” he leans forward and lowers his voice, “keep the woman, if you like her, but don’t parade her in front of Amelia like that.” He turns his head to look me in the eyes as he snarls, “she doesn’t need to see your trash.”

Victor opens his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it. “You may call me a surrogate and a w***e all you like,” I say, working to build as much pride in my voice as I can. “But one day, my sons will inherit this pack.” I lean forward, baring my teeth as I whisper my final words to him. “And I will ensure that tonight is the only memory they have of you. I hope that you said goodbye, because you will never see them again.”

With that, I turn away and stalk towards my children. I don’t feel Victor at my side as I move towards Marissa and the boys. They’re sitting together, apparently having a pleasant time, talking as they eat the macaroni and cheese that Marissa surely ordered just for them. Amelia would rather die than serve macaroni at her rehearsal dinner.

I walk directly up to their table and pick up their plates.

“Hey!” Ian says, reaching for his. “I’m not finished!”

“Come on, boys,” I say, working to put a smile on my face. Marissa studies me and I can tell that she’s not falling for it. “Let’s go eat these by the waterfall!” Then, under my breath, I add, “for fun, we can guess how long it would take someone to fall if I threw them off it.”

The boys whoop and jump out of their chairs, coming around the table to me. The darkness of my comment is, thankfully, lost on them.

“May I come with you?” Marissa says, standing slowly. “I would like more time with my only grandchildren.”

I give her a tight smile. “I’m sorry,” I say, “but no. You have been kind to me, but your husband and your son have been egregious this evening. I know you’ll understand if I’d like some time alone.”

She nods, working to keep the sadness from her face.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” I say, softly, feeling for her. “Come to our rooms after the wedding, we’d be happy to spend time with you.”

She nods again and gives me a small smile.

With that, I walk towards the entry with a plate of pasta in each hand, a boy on either side. We almost make it from the room free and clear when Rafe catches up with me at the door.

“Go on ahead, boys,” I say, nodding my boys forward ahead of me. Whatever he’s going to say, I don’t want them to hear it. “Whoever gets to the elevator first can push the button.” Both boys run forward.

“Good you got rid of them,” Rafe says, his voice low. “I want a moment alone with you.”

I stop and turn to glare at him.

“I like you, Evelyn,” he says, looking me up and down, his gaze settling on my breasts. “Honestly, how much did Victor pay you for those boys? I’ve got funds too, you know. If you’re looking to make some more cash producing Kensington pups, I’m what they call…well endowed.” With that, he gives me a nasty, leering smirk.

I say nothing in response. Instead, I twist my wrist and slam a plate of my son’s food into his chest, taking a moment to grind it in. When I let the plate fall to the floor, his white shirt is dripping with macaroni and cheese.

Then, I slowly walk to the elevator doors, sure that he – and everyone else at the party – is watching me as I go. I hold my head high. Let them look.

As I arrive at the elevators, the doors open, and together my boys and I step in. “Mama, where’d my plate go?” Alvin whines.

“I dropped it, baby,” I murmur, looking right ahead as the doors close and cut off my view of Victor’s entire family staring at me. “Don’t worry, we’ll call down to room service and get you another.”

As the elevator starts to rise, my spirits do with it. I can’t wait until this weekend is over and I can leave Victor’s world for good. The end can’t come fast enough.