This child is nothing short of a miracle. I spent the first few days after the revelation in denial. The doctor who’d examined me a lifetime ago in the wake of my rescue from the bikers had told me in no uncertain terms that I was damaged beyond repair. That I’d never be able to bear a son or a daughter.
But Dr. Lenore is certain.
“There are lacerations in your womb,” she’d explained, “but they’re not so bad that they can prevent you from getting pregnant. The human body is remarkable. It’s amazing how it can heal itself against all odds.”
I’d been only nineteen when I was told I would never be a mother. I suppose I was young enough and broken enough that the news felt almost like a blessing back then. Why would I want to have children? To perpetuate the cycles of violence and unhappiness I’d been born into?
No, it felt like the inability to get pregnant was a good thing. As I’ve gotten older, that has changed so imperceptibly, so slowly I didn’t even notice until now.
It isn’t that I want to have a child, per se. I just resent the fact that I’d been robbed of the choice. And now… well, there hadn’t been much of a choice involved.
But I am pregnant.
With Kian’s baby.
And somehow, it’s hard to find the downside in that. Except for the fact that I’ve agreed to marry another man. One minor hiccup.
“I’m going to expect more from you from now on,” he says, straightening up a little.
“More?”
“The talking back needs to stop,” he says firmly. “I expect you to be respectful and courteous at all times. I expect obedience at all times. I expect submissiveness at all times.”
I tense, but I know that agreeing to his terms are the only way to get what I want—Kian’s life intact. “How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I told you O’Sullivan will not be touched and he hasn’t been. Not since you and I came to our little arrangement.”
“I haven’t seen him since then,” I point out. “I want proof.”
He stills for a moment, eyeing my carefully. “Proof?”
“I want to see him.”
He looks irked at the mere request, but he’s trying to contain it. He’s trying to act as though he’s not jealous. But I’ve always been able to read jealousy. It’s not an emotion that men can handle or hide easily.
“That is inappropriate.”
“Almost as inappropriate as forcing a girl who’s less than half your age to marry you?” I ask. “I doubt it. I’m giving up a lot here. My freedom, my autonomy, my happiness. I’ve agreed to marry you and I’ve agreed not to embarrass you in front of your guests. All I’m asking is to see Kian. One hour a day. That’s all.”
Rokiades likes that part even less. “An hour every day?”
“Yes.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I’ll wear your mother’s dress without complaining,” I tell him. “I’ll smile as I walk down the aisle. And I’ll… I’ll give you the heir you want so much.”
His eyes go wide at that.
Apart from demanding a few wet kisses from me, he hasn’t tried to force himself on me. God only knows what’s keeping him away. But I know that will change after we’re married.
I also know that the only reason he hasn’t raped me already is because he’s terrified I’ll shut down and that’ll ruin the precious image he wants to offer up on the wedding day. An image of power and control for all the other dons in the city to fall for.
“You’ll give yourself to me?” he asks. “Willingly?”
“Yes.”
He smile spreads across his face. “Fine,” Rokiades says with a curt nod. “You can see him. But one hour is out of the question.”