I stare at her, trying to decipher the angle. Because there has to be one. No one comes to me for something like this unless it benefits them. And she wouldn’t be the first to use my reputation as a shield.
Still—the admission is a surprising choice. Almost reckless.
“And what do I get out of this… arrangement?” I ask, keeping my tone ice-cold.
Her hands grip tighter.
At first, she doesn’t speak.
Then—
She lifts her chin, meets my eyes full-on, and drops a bomb I never expected.
“I’ll give you a baby.”
The room stops breathing.
Or maybe it’s me.
My pulse slams painfully against my ribs. My vision narrows, her words echoing like a shockwave hitting every nerve.
A baby.
A child.
My child.
My throat goes dry, and all the carefully rebuilt walls inside me tremble. I haven’t let myself think about children in three years. Not since the loss. Not since the headlines. Not since everyone in the damn town watched my life unravel and decided it gave them the right to dissect my pain.
But Kamiyah’s voice is soft, almost breaking. “I know what it would mean to you. The legacy. The chance you lost. Everyone knows. I hoped… I hope offering that would be enough to make this worth your while.”
Not worth my while.
No—far more dangerous than that.
It tempts a part of me that has never healed.
“Kamiyah,” I manage, though my voice is barely human, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do.” She straightens her spine, gathering a quiet, steady resolve. “And I wouldn’t offer something like this unless I was certain. You’re the only man I trust enough to give me that kind of security—someone powerful enough to stand up to my aunt, untouchable enough that she’ll believe it. Someone who wants a family as much as…” She falters. “As much as you used to.”
The words slice deeper than she knows. But another part of me—dark, yearning, dangerously alive—leans forward.
“Why me?” I ask quietly. “Why not someone easier? Someone you grew up with? Someone your aunt would approve of?”
She gives a humorless laugh. “Because no one else scares her.” Her gaze softens on me, unexpectedly gentle. “You terrify her, actually.”
I blink. “Good to know.”
“And because,” she continues, choosing every word with care, “you’re the only man I’ve ever met who’d never use a child against me or treat this like leverage. You’d protect them. And you’d… love them.”
Her voice cracks on the last two words.
Something inside me fractures, clean and violent.
“Don’t say that,” I rasp. Because I can already feel the trap closing—not around me, but inside me. The hope. The craving. The sharp, almost painful want.
Her lips part, breath trembling. “It’s true.”
