Falling for the wrong memory

Blyth POV

“The terms of the surrogacy agreement.” He says it so casually, like he is talking about the weather.

It reads more like the process of owning a human body than an ordinary job offer.

"Daily multivitamin and folic acid supplements, approved only by Dr. Smith," I read the first clause of the contract, not even at the worst yet. I don't even know who Dr. Smith is, yet she already has the power to dictate what I take in.

“The baby needs that to grow,” Mateo murmurs without blinking. “And you don’t have to worry about how to get all of that. I will take care of it.”

I swallow and move on to the next clause. “No s****l i*********e until delivery…”

Right. Like I was planning on screwing anyone whole carrying the heir to the Brent's empire. Like, anyone will agree to come close to me when they find out.

But that isn’t even the problem. It is the way the clause is worded. “…to preserve the purity of sperm origin and avoid issues with paternity in the near future.”

“Purity of sperm origin?”

“There have been issues like that. This is only to ensure our interests are both protected.” He clasps his hands in the middle of the table, leaning forward. “It seems you don’t like that clause. Is there something I should know about your s****l life, Miss Brown?”

The way his brown eyes wash over my face makes a shiver run down my spine. I pull my gaze pack to the folder. There is a full page on vaginal health.

What the…

No scented soaps, thongs, skinny jeans, s*x toys…There is a list of approved underwear brands that are hygienically tested in labs. "To prevent a disruption of PH balance, and to reduce the risks of yeast infection."

Is this for a pregnancy or a reproductive experiment?

“Go on,” Mateo urges me.

"Clause four. No alcohol or caffeine." Okay. That is normal. Alcohol isn't healthy, pregnancy or not. "You will be called at any time for random blood and urine tests. If found in breach of this clause, an immediate termination of the contract will be reached, and consequently, a forfeiture of payment."

I look up at once. “My job! Some of the clients…”

"You will cease to work there from the second you sign the contract," he growls, like the mere idea of me working in a club annoys him. Isn't that hypocrisy, seeing as that is where we met? "It is further down the clauses, along with your weekly allowance, aside from the payment when you put to bed."

This sounds so unreal, from the list of exercises I am to undergo because I am to carry his baby, with the even more invasive stuff. These aren't suggestions. They are commands. I am to do prenatal yoga with someone called Yara twice a week, and then go on morning walks while being monitored by a fitness tracker.

Breathing techniques every day. Cardiovascular stress levels will be analysed as often as possible.

And just when I think it cannot get any worse, the next clause proves the opposite. Mateo wants a monthly psychological evaluation, but it isn’t to make sure the baby is developing fine.

It is to check if I am developing any form of attachment to the baby. He has stamped it on every corner that the baby in no way belongs to me. I am merely a womb, a means through which the baby will be born.

“What?”

Mateo reads it out for me, from memory. “The surrogate must stay away from every form of self-stimulation for the sake of reaching an o****m, in order to avoid a uterine contraction.”

Now, I think I am really going to lose it.

My hands move mechanically, slamming the folder shut. I am sure my face is crimson red now, burning bright from all the information I have had to read through.

Mateo doesn’t seem bothered by any of it. He arches a brow, leaning back into his seat. “You didn’t go through all of it.”

“Are you serious right now?” I shake my head disbelievingly. “You are bringing a bulldozer into my life.”

"Temporarily," he asserts. "I have to ensure my child doesn't have the slightest problem. Do you need an explanation on any of the terms?"

“No!” I say a little too harshly, not wanting to be subjected to another round of that.

I should walk out the door right now, but I need this. The money will grant me the financial freedom I have been searching for, for as long as I can remember.

But this doesn’t look like freedom.

Still, I reach for his pen and scribble my signature on the last page, right above my name. I hold my breath as I push it back to him, watching me sign as well before finally looking up.

“You will get a copy of the agreement tomorrow morning.”

I nod. “So, what happens now?”

He rises, looking even taller than I remember. “Let’s go. Dr.Smith is waiting.”

The skin on my forehead squeezes in confusion.

“I have scheduled your medicals, just to be sure.”

I sigh and get on my feet, following him out of the building and into his car. The ride to the hospital is quiet, but so is the whole test. I lay on the bed, the smell of antiseptic clinging to the walls as I watch the oddly beautiful Dr. Smith prod and swab.

She is polite, and I find it hard to hate her when I want to. I don't like that I am handing her so much control over my life for the next nine months.

"She is perfectly capable of carrying a child," she announces to Mateo. "Shall we proceed now, or do you want to come back another day?"

“Proceed with what?” I ask, propping myself up with my elbow.

“The artificial insemination, Miss Brown,” he says slowly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How else were you thinking we would go about this?”

My face lights up again, and I wish the ground could open up to swallow me.