Page 148 of Freed
“No.”
He smiles. “You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“I know enough.”
He reaches out and places his hand over the curve of my stomach and my whole body goes rigid.
“Take your hand off me.”
His fingers remain right where they are.
“No,” he says mildly. “Not until you understand something.”
Cold fear slides down my spine.
My voice drops. “Take. Your hand. Off me.”
He leans in, close enough that I can smell the cigar smoke in his clothes.
“You are going to scare that girl off,” he says quietly. “Do whatever you need to do. Cry to your husband. Threaten her. Humiliate her. I don’t care. But you will make sure she leaves.”
“And if I don’t?”
His eyes lock on mine. Then, very deliberately, his hand presses just slightly harder against my stomach. My breath catches.
“If you don’t,” he says, “I begin solving this problem another way.”
My blood goes ice-cold. For a second I can only hear the pounding of my own heart. He means the baby.
“You wouldn’t,” I whisper.
He lifts one shoulder. “You know I’m a man of my word, darling.”
My hand flies to his wrist and I shove it away from me so hard he actually steps back.
“You touch my child again,” I say, my voice shaking with rage, “and I will kill you.”
For one beat, we simply stare at each other. Then he laughs and it’s a delighted, ugly sound.
“There’s some spirit in you after all.”
I want to scream. Instead, I wrap both arms around myself, shielding my stomach from him like that can undo what just happened.
“You’re evil.”
“No,” he says. “I am practical.”
I think that may be worse.
He straightens his cuffs as though he has not just threatened his own grandchild.
“You will go to the house he’s bought for her,” he says. “And you will remind that girl exactly who she is.”
My voice comes out raw. “And who is that?”
His smile returns.
“A distraction,” he says. “A weakness. A woman who should know better than to come between a wife and her husband.”
