Twisted (erotic) (#6, 101 Nights)

Chapter Three: George

“You need to eat, George.”

I ignore Natalie and set the meager daily meal of rice mixed with some sort of meat in front of her before returning to my usual place seated against one wall. It’s sweltering in the mini-oven that is our shipping container.

“George,” she chides me.

“You’re eating for two,” I respond. I was initially concerned about what Hasan, our captor, would do if he discovered Natalie is pregnant.

I’m relatively certain no one is listening. I’ve found no devices within our sparse surroundings, and the sounds from outside are infrequent enough to convince me someone only thinks of us twice a day when water and food are delivered. This isn’t an operation that’s being run with the intention of there being survivors. While I’ll never tell her this, I have a feeling Hasan doesn’t care what’s said in here, that this box is mean to be our grave after Hasan and EJ’s mad father get what they want from EJ.

“You’re the one who can muscle us out of here,” she points out. “You need your strength, too.”

“I’m fine,” I reply. Resting my head back against the corrugated steel wall, I gaze at the ceiling. The wound in my arm makes it harder to move it. Fortunately, it’s not infected. I can handle a slow down but not an infection. “You have names chosen for the baby?”

She pauses in her eating, a troubled look on her features before she shakes it off.

I can guess what’s bothering her. “You’re concerned about EJ.”

“I am.”

“He’ll move heaven and earth to find you,” I assure her.

“I know that. I’m not sure I want him to. I mean, I want to get out here. I’m just not sure what happens with him when I do.”

I keep quiet, not wanting to stress her more than she already is.

“He was pretty … clear about not wanting anything to do with me,” she whispers. “I’m not going to let a child change that.”

“He cares, Natalie. He loves you. Whatever was going through his mind the night you were taken, he was trying to figure the out best way to protect you.”

“From this?” she asks bitterly.

“Unfortunately.”

“We have some things to work through, I guess.”

“And you will. I’ve never seen two people better suited for one another.”

She offers a smile. “To answer your question, no. I don’t have names picked. I’ve been too afraid of not making it out of here to think that far ahead.”

“We will. I think, though, you should be prepared for the amount of press a simple name can garner,” I reply. “In England, the name of a royal heir often isn’t announced for weeks after the birth, because it has to be perfect, a combination of history and tradition, respect for the family, a reflection of the times and so on.”

“Assuming we make it out … assuming Elijah and I can work on things … you think it’ll be that intensive?”

“I imagine so. Elijah has multiple names.”

“Hmm. Like my designers. I would have to combine American and Nijalan.”

“What’s your father’s name?”

“Daniel.”

“It’s an option. You could go all-American and your son or daughter could be given a traditional Nijalan name when crowned as ruler of Nijala.”