But the longer he looks at me, the more something uneasy crawls up my spine, my brows pulling together in confusion and growing alarm.
No. This is more than just the grief of losing a loved one. Something else is wrong.
“Where did you go today?” he asks without preamble, voice cold and clipped. “And don’t give me that bullshit about going to a pharmacy. Where were you really?”
My heartbeat stutters. “Iwentto the pharmacy,” I say slowly, not understanding why his tone is slicing like that. Did something happen while he was gone? Am I not allowed to leave the estate? What did that asshole Dhimitër say to him? I still haven’t forgiven him for putting me in thefrigorifer.
Roan’s expression darkens, and when he speaks again, his voice is meaner—sharper. “Tell me the fucking truth, Katina. Don’t make me take you back to thefrigorifer.”
The threat hits me like a slap, and I flinch back away from him before I can stop the instinctive reaction. Something flickers briefly in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can try to analyze it. And honestly, I don't evenwantto analyze whatever the hell he’s thinking right now. He saw what state I was in after he took me out of that freezer, and he has the nerve to use it to threaten me?
My chest tightens, anger and fear tangling together. I hate that he can get to me like this, that just the mention of himputting me back in that cold, dark room can make my stomach twist into knots—not because of thefrigoriferitself, but because it would behimdoing it. Him. The man whose bed I shared last night, whose mouth made me forget my own name.
It makes no sense that I’d be hurt by this. He’s never made it a secret that he doesn’t trust me. We’re not suddenly going to be chummy this evening just because he fucked me senseless last night. Sex doesn’t change anything. I know that.
But God, it still stings.
I blink rapidly to hold back the ridiculous stinging tears threatening to form as I turn away from him to switch off the stove and oven, ensuring the food doesn't burn while we have whatever confrontation this is about to become.
Flashing a calm I definitely don’t feel, I walk out of the kitchen and head up the stairs, feet moving fast with the emotions barreling through me.
His footsteps follow close behind me, making my hands clench into fists. I should punch him in the throat for implying I went outside for some—some nefarious fucking reason after everything that happened between us last night.
But I have no grounds to be angry, do I? Because while I might be telling the truth this time, I haven’t always been truthful with him. And sooner or later, Iwillgo out for the exact nefarious reason he thinks I went out for today.
What a fucking mess.
At the top of the stairs, I cut into the hallway and storm into my bedroom, beelining for the nightstand. I yank the drawer open and snatch the box of emergency contraceptives along with the crumpled receipt next to it.
When I whirl back around, he’s lingering in the doorway, watching me like he’s not sure if he should enter. I narrow my eyes as I march right up to him, and without any hesitation whatsoever, I slam both the pills and receipt against his chest.
He catches them before they fall, his eyes quickly scanning the pill packet, then the receipt.
“You didn’t use a condom last night,” I say, fighting to keep my voice flat. He doesn’t deserve to know how deeply his words affect me. I won’t let him see it. “And I’m not on birth control. So I went to the pharmacy to getthis. That’s where I was.”
Roan’s breathing slows as the tension in his shoulders starts to ease, but something else takes its place—confusion, maybe? Concern? Hell if I know with this man.
“I thought you’d be on birth control,” he says after a long pause, his gaze flicking to my stomach for half a second before snapping back up to lock with mine.
My heart thuds so loudly I half-expect him to hear it. That look—whatever emotion was behind it—slides under my skin and sends a warm rush straight to my belly. I inhale deeply, steadying myself, and press a palm to my stomach. “Don’t worry,” I tell him, forcing the words out. “I already used the pills. I won’t get pregnant.”
But even as I say it, a knot climbs in my throat, dragging up the memory of that tiny, reckless hesitation earlier. Some desperate, broken part of me had thought maybe having a baby wouldn’t be so bad. To have someone in my life who wouldn’t leave or try to use me.
But that’s not what babies are for. They’re not emotional band-aids for broken people. It wouldn't be fair to the kid. So I’d swallowed the damn pills.
Roan doesn’t speak for several uncomfortable moments. He just stares at me, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable. Then his fingers tighten around the box of pills and receipt, knuckles going white. “You should’ve told me.”
I turn away from him, raking a hand through my hair, suddenly nervous for some reason. “Told you what? That I’m not on the pill? What difference would it have made?” When would I have even had the opportunity to mention it? When his tongue was deep inside my mouth? When he was—I chance a quick glance back at him.
He pushes away from the doorway, his expression softening the slightest bit. “A lot. For one, I wouldn’t have assumed you were on birth control like I did.”
I scoff, ignoring the erratic pitter-patter of my heart, not sure if I should be insulted or flattered that he just assumed I’d be on birth control. “Why would I be? I’m not here to have sex, am I?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw as his eyes flash with something dangerous. “No, maybe not for sex. You're just here tospy.” He takes a step closer. “But tell me, Katina—who were you spying on? Me or my dead father?”
My heart plummets straight into my stomach. “What?” I ask weakly, the single word barely making it past my lips. Is he guessing? Why would he guess something so close to the truth?
He rolls his shoulders and closes the distance, crowding into my space until we’re practically toe to toe. I have to tip my head back to keep my gaze on his, my throat working overtime as I try to swallow past the sudden dryness in my mouth.
