But tonight, I'm too tired. Too hurt. Too overwhelmed.
I'm drifting when I hear him move. Feel the bed dip.
My eyes fly open. "Adrian?—"
"Relax." He's lying on top of the covers, fully clothed. Not touching me. Just there. "I'm not going to touch you."
"Then why?—"
"Because if you're going to try to run, I want to know immediately." His voice is closer now. Right behind me. "Go to sleep, Seraphina."
I don't want to. Don't want to be vulnerable. Don't want to trust him for even a second.
But exhaustion pulls at me. And despite everything, there's something about his presence that feels—not safe exactly. But certain. Solid. Like for the first time in weeks, something is under control.
Even if that control belongs to him.
I close my eyes.
Sleep takes me under.
I wake to the feeling of something cold sliding onto my finger.
For a moment, I'm confused. Disoriented. The room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows.
Then I realize Adrian is kneeling beside the bed. His hand holding mine. Something metal and cold on my ring finger.
"What—" I pull my hand back, heart racing.
He doesn't let go. Just holds my hand gently, admiring whatever he just put on it.
"Adrian, what are you doing?"
He looks up at me. His eyes glint in the darkness. And when he speaks, his voice is calm. Certain. Absolute.
"Tomorrow morning, Seraphina, you're going to marry me."
My blood goes cold.
"What?"
"I've already made the arrangements. We'll go to the courthouse at nine." He runs his thumb over the ring. "This was my grandmother's. It's been in the Nero family for generations."
I can't breathe. Can't think. "You're insane."
"I'm practical." He releases my hand. I look down at the ring. It's beautiful. Antique. A square-cut diamond surrounded by smaller stones. It's clearly a well-loved heirloom, and normally, I would admire something like this.
Right now, it feels like a shackle.
"I'm not marrying you," I say.
"Yes, you are."
"I barely know you?—"
"You're carrying my child."
"That doesn't mean?—"
