Page 143 of King of Ashes
“It wasn’t I who was daydreaming.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” I mumble and snatch the plate from him.
I dig into the chicken and sun-dried tomato sauce. The rich flavors melt on my tongue, and I steal some of his food too until he offers me his plate. Luckily, he says nothing, just keeps eyeing me as I scarf the food down.
“What?” I say through a mouthful. “I plan to eat until you won’t find me attractive anymore.”
He looks at me with such honesty and adoration, weakening me––my resolve and my heart.
“Ah, Zara, baby. Go ahead. My love for you is not attached to your figure. It will be more for me to love, fondle, and fuck.”
Good God, why must he say all the right things? It’s not helping my cause.
He clears his throat, eyeing me intently. “There’s a pregnancy test in the bathroom. I would like you to take it.”
I blink, choking on the last piece of meat. Instantly, he’s at my back helping me dislodge it.
“I’m not—” I gulp, stopping mid-sentence. Apparently, blatantly lying to him is out of the question. At least one of us attempts to be moral.
“If you say so. I don’t see the problem––”
He can’t find out. He simply can’t.
“Are you going to force me?” I cut him off, raising a brow in defiance. “Are you that desperate to keep me?”
He rakes a hand through his hair, seeming at a loss for words. “No. And yes. I just?—”
“Not everything goes according to your plan, Vian. I know you would love to trap me forever, but guess what? That will never happen.”
His eyes darken, and the vein in his neck pulses with furious blood flow. “Carrying my child would feel like a fucking life sentence to you?”
Yes and no. I don’t know. I am lost, Vian. I am so lost.
Overwhelmed and an emotional mess, my eyes well up.
He lets out a sound of an injured animal and shoots up, his back muscles straining to the point of popping.
“Fuck.” He grips the glass railing hard enough that his knuckles whiten. “I don’t fucking know what to do anymore. It feels like nothing I do is right.”
His words twist the knife in my chest even deeper. “You should let me go. That would be a first step.” I sniffle, realizing I don’t wish to leave as much as I pretend to.
It’s his presence, I tell myself, that muddles my brain. Once I am away from him, I will think straight and figure out my next steps.
“My time is not up,” he says low, looking at me over his shoulder as the invisible clock keeps ticking—not toward my salvation, but toward my doom.
Every day it feels like I inch more toward him than away from him. I am screwed if he insists on taking that test.
“Maybe it’s anemia. There are some vitamins in the back cabinet,” he says, sounding resigned.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and stand, carrying a heavy heart with me. I know why he wants a baby, and it pisses me off that’s the main reason to keep me.
Near the terrace entrance, I spin around. “By the way, you should want a baby for its sake, not to keep his mommy.”
His eyes spark at the prospect. “His, huh?”
Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
I close my eyes for a moment, curling my hands at my sides, my frustration reaching a new level. “Of course, it has to be a he… someone you could turn into your mini me. Your heir.”
