The Devil's Plaything (Ceasefire Book 2) Read online

  The Devil’s Plaything

  Ceasefire Series Book 2

  Claire Marta

  Edited by

  Betty Shreffler

  Copyright © 2018 Claire Marta

  Cover Design © 2018 by Alora Kate – Cover Kraze

  Formatted by Raven Designs

  Edited by Betty Shreffler

  https://bettyshreffler.wordpress.com/editor-services/

  https://www.facebook.com/QuillandInkEditing/

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this work may be used, distributed or reproduced in any manner, including photocopying, recording or other methods electronic or mechanical, whatsoever without prior permission from the Author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  The Devil’s Plaything Playlist

  Author Links

  About the Author

  Also by Claire Marta

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to Karen Lowry.

  Chapter One

  The voices murmur on the edge of my awareness. Soft, concerned. There’s no escaping consciousness. Stirring from the peaceful darkness I’ve been drifting in I raise my heavy eyelids. A tidal wave of sound, colour, sensation hits me hard. Wincing, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust.

  “Miss Smith, you’re finally back with us.” The woman’s voice beside me is gentle and calm.

  Pain surges in my skull, ripping through my body to each and every nerve ending. Groaning, my hand flutters up, pressing against my forehead to contain the headache. Fuck, what the hell have I been drinking? I have the mother of all hangovers.

  “What happened?” I ask before swallowing, getting some moisture into my parched throat.

  “You collapsed.” I’m handed a glass and a white pill. “Now lay still and take your medication while I go get the doctor.”

  Giving the owner a sideways glance, the nurse’s uniform finally registers. A hospital. What the fuck am I doing here? The last thing I remember… Frowning, I try to recall something, anything, but all that’s there is a big empty hole. Popping the pill into my mouth, and hoping to fuck it’s a painkiller, I wash it down with the water.

  If my brain would stop trying to squeeze itself out of my ears I might have a better chance of working out what the hell is going on.

  Looking around groggily, I examine the sparse room. It’s the standard white walled place with medical equipment. Instead of one of those paper gowns I'm still dressed in a pair of cream trousers and a dark blue blouse.

  An eager face of a woman standing in the corner is unfamiliar. A petite blonde with a bad case of resting bitch face.

  “Sarah, my God, I’m so happy you’re both ok.” She babbles, giving a trembling smile the second we make eye contact.

  I stare back blankly.

  That name. I don’t know it. It rolls around on my tongue like an out of place puzzle piece that doesn’t have a home.

  “Ethan will be so happy you’ve woken up! He’s on his way.” She continues happily, unaware I don’t have a clue what the fuck she’s talking about. “They want to check the baby is ok. You fell pretty hard.”

  My hand automatically moves to my stomach. Round and hard, it’s immense! The huge swell of a bump is undeniable and an unwanted surprise. Gaze swinging down, I stare at it in shock. How did I not notice this straight away?

  What the everlasting fuck? I’m as big as a whale.

  I don’t know how to feel. How can I be carrying a child and not even remember? What the fuck is going on? Overpowering emotions thunder through me. I’m in dire need of a scream, but now probably isn’t the best time.

  Door swinging open, a good-looking male comes bustling into the room. Dark ash blonde locks cut short, brown eyes with a cute dimple and teeth to match, he flashes a smile the moment he sees me.

  “Babe!”

  Before I can stop him, he’s across the room in a few steps, his lips pressed to mine in a gentle kiss. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  Recoiling, I push him away with a hand on his chest. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The relief in his expression slides into confusion. “Sarah, that’s not funny.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Ethan.” He replies slowly. “I’m your fiancé…you don’t remember?”

  “I don’t remember anything.” I admit with a sense of unease.

  There’s a change in the room as everyone tenses.

  “Surely you know Kelly? Best friends since you were ten years old?” He gestures at the blonde who’s now staring at me with distress.

  Sitting up, I clumsily swing my legs off the bed. “No.”

  The urge to get out of here grows with my sense of panic. This is not good. Surely, I would feel some kind of connection with these people. Why wouldn’t I remember them?

  “Kelly, go find the nurse.”

  Nodding, the blonde rushes out of the room without a word.

  Ethan blocks my attempt at escape. “Just stay calm, sweetheart, everything is going to be fine.”

  Bullshit. I don’t care who he says he is. I don’t remember anything, not even something as simple as my own name. If that doesn’t scream something abnormal then nothing else will. These people are strangers to me. This place unknown.

  “Why can’t I remember anything?” I question, slapping away his hand as he tries to touch my arm.

  “The doctor will figure it out... remember the baby and try not to get stressed.”

  His soothing tone sets my nerves on edge.

  I don’t want to be here.

  This all feels wrong, but I don’t know why.

  Bustling back into the room, Kelly is joined by a prim looking nurse and a portly Doctor.

  Peering over the top of his round glasses, he gives me a considering look. “Miss Smith? I hear you’re having a problem remembering things.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s start with some simple questions. Your full name and month you were born.”

  “Sarah Smith. March thirteenth.” The answers reel out of my mouth without any thought.

  “And where in London do you live?”

  “Greenwich.”

  Stunned, I sit staring at him. How in hell do I know all that and where did it come from?

  “I thought you said you didn’t remember.” Ethan accuses, yet he can’t hide his relief.

  Doctor, whatever the fuck his name is, answers before I can formulate a sentence.

  “Your fiancé had a fright and a fall, maybe she was confused, hmm? As long as she takes her medication it shouldn’t happen again.”

  Danger. It jangles my senses making the hair on the back of my neck rise. I know for certain if I don’t answer correctly I’m going to be in more crap
than I’m in right now.

  “Yes, it was just the shock.” I agree quickly. “So, I can go home?”

  Forcing a smile, I keep it pinned on my face until my cheeks ache.

  I have no idea how long this amnesia is going to last. Maybe seeing things in my life will help jog my memory. Give it a kick start. For now, I’ll have to play along until something clicks, but there is no motherfucking way I am remaining here.

  “Let’s check the baby first to be sure everything is as it should be,” the Doctor suggests.

  Ethan makes a grab for my hand. “That’ll be fantastic, won’t it, babe? I can’t wait to see her.”

  I don’t like pretty boy’s attitude. Caution and paranoia are riding me hard and I’m not about to ignore them.

  “Sure.” I agree, forcing my muscles to relax.

  He squeezes my palm in response. Battling the urge to drag it free, I let my fingers go limp.

  “I’ll wait out in the hall.” The blonde gives him a flirty smile.

  Impassively, I watch them. Jealousy doesn’t raise its ugly head. In fact, I don’t feel even an inkling of anything but relief now that I have one less person to deal with. If this idiot is mine shouldn’t I feel some kind of territorial ownership? Some desire to claim he’s mine?

  She leaves in a hurry with the nurse shooing her out.

  Slipping onto a stool beside me, the Doctor gathers equipment.

  “Please pull your blouse up, Miss Smith. This won’t hurt at all.”

  Obeying the doctors request, I bare the rounded bump, eyes on the ceiling.

  Cold gel smears over my stomach. I breath in and out slowly through my nose.

  “Right then, let’s see how it’s going, shall we?” Cool metal greets my skin.

  Glancing down, I realise with the size I am we would’ve had the gender scan by now. I have to be at least seven or eight months along. I’m still trying to comprehend and process the image. Still having trouble believing what I’m seeing. Ethan is the father? A man I don’t recall. Who I must’ve had sex with multiple times. Who I have a relationship with. Yet he’s a foreign presence at my side.

  “There we are.” The doctor says, attention glued to the black and white screen. “Heartbeat strong. Your daughter is moving nicely.”

  My throat is so thick with emotion I can barely swallow. I can make out the tiny limbs along with a head on the gritty grey screen. It’s true. Holy shit, I'm going to be a mother. I know I’m not ready for this by the wave of overwhelming shock. Was she planned? Have I named her yet? Thought about baby clothes, toys? Too many questions circle inside my head. Reality is like a baseball bat to the face—painful and frightening.

  A lock of blonde hair falling across his forehead, Ethan beams proudly, still clutching my hand.

  “She looks healthy. Nothing to worry about.” The doctor assures me, his smile kind. “I’d still like to take some blood to run tests to be sure and I’m sure you’d like a scan photo to take home.”

  “Whatever you need.” Ethan agrees, not letting me speak.

  I smile back. Fuck, what else is there to do.

  Taking a wad of disposable tissue he hands me, I wipe away the left-over gel before pulling my blouse back down.

  “Right, let’s get you home and settled.” Ethan tells me with a nod at the doctor.

  Home.

  Maybe the answers I seek will be there.

  Chapter Two

  Head lowered, I watch droplets of water roll down the expanse of my large belly. It still feels unreal. As if this is all some fucked up dream. Yet the irrefutable evidence is something I can’t ignore. I look like I’m ready to pop.

  Staring at the stretched skin and red tendril like veins running across the sides, emotions crowd me. How can I have forgotten all this? There must’ve been joy at discovering I was pregnant. Wonder and tears at knowing a new life was being created. The first scan and discovering the sex. Sharing the news with friends and family. Crazy food cravings, pregnancy symptoms, preparing for the birth.

  Slowly, I explore the changes in my body with my fingertips. My tits are bigger. More sensitive. Roaming down over my belly, I pause when I feel a strong kick.

  It’s an alien sensation. One that leaves me reeling again. There’s a life growing inside me. One I should be used to by now at this stage of development.

  Two heartbeats.

  I’m carrying a baby.

  A little girl.

  Fear and awe almost suffocate me in equal measure. My chest becomes tight.

  Will I be a good mother? I have no idea what kind of person I am. Do I even have a place ready to lay her when she’s born?

  Spreading my fingers wide over my wet skin she answers with another kick.

  Innocent.

  A fierce love is born right then. The need to protect surges up so powerfully I know then I will do whatever it takes to bring her safely into this world. I may not remember when she was conceived or the months previous, but I will make up for that now.

  Back aching, I shift my position to accommodate the added weight better.

  Hiding away in the bathroom isn’t something I can do forever. I needed the solitude though. Ethan and his little friend haven’t given me a moments peace since we left the hospital.

  They bundled me so quickly into the car I barely had time to take in my surroundings.

  Releasing a long sigh, I finally switch off the shower. If I waste any more time I’m sure they’ll come find me.

  Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I pause to glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  There is a gauntness to my face that lacks a glow. Eyes, haunted blue pools of confusion, stare back. They emphasise the paleness of my skin, framed by thick long black ebony hair, which tumbles wildly around my bare shoulders. It gives me no comfort searching the features for some recognition. A stranger is looking back. No memories of the past remind me of who I am, just a thick static in my head.

  Releasing a long sigh, I look away, no longer able to bare the image. Fear tries to hold me captive, but I shake it off. I can’t afford to jump on the self-pity train.

  Glance straying to the black and white photo resting at the corner of the mirror, I caress a fingertip over the little infant body. I need to be strong for her. Find some stability in this world I’ve woken up in.

  Ethan is waiting for me in the luxurious bedroom which adjoins the en-suite.

  “Here’s my new number. Phone me only in the case of an emergency.”

  Confused at his sudden lack of clinginess he’s been exhibiting since I woke up, I hesitantly take the business card he holds out. “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ve already missed an important meeting this morning and can’t afford to skip the next one. Kelly’s waiting downstairs. She’ll look after you.”

  When he goes in for a kiss I turn my head so his sloppy peck lands on my cheek.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Not bothering to wait for my reply, he leaves quickly. For someone who was fawning all over me at the hospital he seems happy to be making an escape. It’s not the kind of relationship I picture. In truth, I can’t imagine him in my life even if I could remember it.

  I stare down at the card pinched between my forefinger and thumb. Envoy Consultancy. The company name rings a bell. Yet I’m not sure why.

  Tossing it on the bed, I head to the wardrobe. Maybe doing something routine will stir something.

  Our things are set out side by side. His immaculate suits and pristine shirts hanging opposite elegant dresses.

  Every piece of clothing I find isn’t right. They’re expensive, fancy, not made for comfort which I crave.

  Growling under my breath, I riffle through them until I find something with elastic to accommodate my bump. At least it’s adjustable enough to get over my hips. A pair of stretchy leggings and a tan blouse disguise my blossoming condition.

  Guessing Kelly’s not the patient type, I reluctantly venture from the safety of the bedroom.
The house is modern and clean. A perfect choice for a couple who want to raise a family. Still, it feels cold, lacking any warmth.

  I find her in the living room. Twisting the pendant on the long chain she’s wearing around her neck, she stares off in thought out one of the windows onto the suburb street outside.

  I’m tempted to leave her to it.

  “Hey Sarah, how are you feeling?” She catches sight of me in the reflection and crushes my fleeting plan to escape.

  “Tired, but better.”

  Someone really likes beige. The colour is everywhere from the walls to the furniture. I also notice the lack of photos. None of the usual smiling snaps. Everything speaks of money and wealth.

  “You had us all worried.” Looking around, she hurries to a bookshelf. “I have the wedding magazines you wanted to go through.” Carefully removing one she places it in my hands.

  Wedding? Staring down at the cover of the top one, my eyes settle on the beaming image of the perfect bride wearing something virginal.

  “You and Ethan have a few more months to plan, but I know you wanted to make a start. If you want to get hitched before the baby comes you can’t wait too long or you’ll end up doing it in the delivery room.”

  I don’t recall any of it. It’s as if the memories have been sucked out of my head. I’m left with a blank white wall. Nothing is triggering recognition.

  “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.” She continues softly. “I’m telling you this as your friend. I think you need to slow down and let me help more, especially now that we’re housemates.”

  Housemates? That means I’m never getting rid of the bitch. Hiding my disappointment, I dump the magazines on the coffee table.