He tossed his coat clear across the room, and it landed on the desk. “Are you thirsty?”
“I’m fine.”
When Atticus shut the freezer door, he turned toward me with his shirt wadded up in his hand.
“That’s more than enough,” I said, rising to my feet.
“I’m not here to seduce you. It’s only to wrap around the bag of ice.” He approached me with an aristocratic swagger, like a man who had spent a considerable amount of his life with the upper echelons. “Hold this against your cheek.”
My gaze fixed on his bloody chin. I accepted the ice and sat down. “This really isn’t necessary,” I told him, still out of breath and wondering what in the world I was doing alone in a room with a Vampire. “I’ll just shift when I get home to prevent any bruising.”
He dipped his chin. “We both know that isn’t true.”
My skin erupted in goose bumps. “What do you mean?” I was certain that neither Mercy nor I had mentioned the baby in conversation. Or had we?
Atticus looked at me as if he could read my mind. He sat on the opposite couch and laced his fingers together. “Let me allay your fears: I don’t intend to discuss your private business withanyone, but I’ve known about the pregnancy since the moment we met.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Impossible! But how?”
“Magic.” He winked at me. “Keep the ice on your cheek.”
Stunned, I raised the ice pack. Milly had warned me not to tell anyone about the pregnancy. What on earth could I do about this?
Atticus turned his gaze down to my stomach. “I hear things others can’t, even in the first trimester. I’ve always known, but in my long life, I’ve learned not to meddle. It was never mentioned by anyone in your pack, so I assumed you either didn’t know or were keeping it secret. Though now one can hardly conceal it.”
I glanced down at my stomach. “I’m not showing in an obvious way.”
He gave a lazy smile and rumpled his pale blond hair. “You are to me.”
“My pack knows now.”
“I should hope so.”
Atticus had sinewy muscles, and I didn’t notice any tattoos or obvious scars on his torso. A Vampire’s strength wasn’t defined by appearance. They were inherently powerful and could break a table in two.
“Let me get you a drink.” Atticus rose and stood like a statue with perfect form. “What would you like? Anything.”
“I’m not thirsty.” I lowered the ice when my cheek became numb.
“I’m sorry we don’t have caviar, but I’ll rectify that in the future.”
“Don’t alter your menu just for me. The gold-dipped ice cream is more than enough,” I tacked on.
“You won’t be having that tonight.”
“And why not?”
“You should never indulge in decadent food while in pain.”
I laughed softly. “That’s silly. Food brings comfort.”
“For mental distress perhaps. But physical? You’ll never be able to separate the memory even if it’s subconscious. When you eventually taste our luxurious ice cream, you’ll be in a better state of mind. I’ll make sure you have the finest table and my staff at your beck and call.”
Watching him closely, I realized he wasn’t joking. Why would he go out of his way to spoil me? Then it dawned on me. “Are you worried that I’ll ruin your reputation by telling people how I’ve been assaulted in your club twice? Is that why you’re bending over backward to please me?”
Still standing, Atticus hung his head and sighed. “I should have gotten to you sooner. There’s no excuse. For that, you have my deepest apologies, and I will be your humble servant.”
“In my previous life, it happened all too frequently. Men either treated me like tinsel on a Christmas tree or a piece of property. Not all men, but enough that I don’t blindly trust anyone.”
