“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, my steps cautious.
Her head jerks up and bloodshot brown eyes latch onto mine. She swipes at her tears and nods. “I’m fine.”
“Pardon my observation, but you don’t look fine.” Jesus, when did I start sounding so formal, almost mimicking Edward to perfection? She glances away to look out the small window within the nook, and I take another step closer. “Rowena, you don’t know me, but—”
“How do you know my name?” Suspicious eyes find my face again.
“I heard your father,” I reply in haste. “I was seated behind you.” I try to sound less creepy than those words made me out to be.
She frowns, hiccupping on a sob, then, with a resigned sigh, says, “so you know? How many others heard? Daddy’s going to be so mad.”
I have no clue what she’s going on about, so I stupidly introduce myself. “I’m Xavier, Rowena. We met at the ritual. I...um...” What do I say? I raped you. I fucked you. I took your virginity. I hurt you.
She saves me from the decision by leaping to her feet. “You?” Her face scrunches in anger. “Get away from me before I scream.”
I hold up my hands, palms out, showing her I mean no harm. “Look, I just want to help.”
“I think you’ve helped enough already,” she snaps.
I recoil at the venom dripping from her words and understand her anger. I deserve her wrath. Then my gaze falls to her hand, rubbing slow circles over her stomach. The truth behind her words smacks me hard. I gulp. Part of me doesn’t want to accept it, while another pushes me to ask, “are you pregnant?”
She freezes, her eyes lifting to mine again. This time, indecision replaces her anger.
“I’m sorry,” I keep my tone light. “I didn’t mean to hurt you that day. I really am sorry.”
“I hate you,” she seethes. “You did this to me.” She shoves my chest. “You’re awful.” Another shove. “I hate you.” Shove. “You’re despicable.” Shove. “You and your sick family.” The last shove sends me up against a wall. Her final hit is “I hope you never fall in love.”
I wince, slowly shaking my head. “I won’t.”
Astonished, her hands stay on my chest, her eyes on me, her expression open curiosity.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
Her hands drop to her sides, and she steps back. “I hate you,” her words fall with less vehemence, now overshadowed by more tears.
“I can help you,” I offer without thinking.
Immediately her hurt morphs into anxiety. “I don’t want to get rid of it. Daddy wants me to,” she says, defeat lining her tone.
“Do you want to keep him?”
“Him?” She frowns, then lets out a nervous laugh. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
I shrug. “I just know.” Of course, I have no fucking clue, but it seems like the right thing to say. Again, giving no thought to the how, I reach out to touch her shoulder. “If you let me, I’ll make this right, Rowena. I’ll marry you.”
“Marry me,” she snorts. “I’m still in school. There’s no way Daddy or our church will—”
“What if I promise we can?” Again, suspicion creeps over her face. “My family has plenty of money to make this—”
“Your family’s money started this,” she bites out. “They promised Daddy I wouldn’t be hurt. There’d be no repercussions when they gave him the money for me to attend a school modeling assignment—”
“What?” I bark, shocked. My family is sick, well, my father actually, since he heads up that fucking brotherhood.
She frowns. “You didn’t know, did you?” Slowly, I shake my head, too stunned to speak. “When they came to fetch me, they said it was a secret location, and because of privacy, they had to blindfold and cuff me. Then this man, who sounded like your father, said I was going to be part of something great, that Daddy was paid a lot of money, and if I refused, Daddy would be harmed. I didn’t tell Daddy that because it would’ve devastated him knowing he was somehow responsible for my rape. Besides, I think this,” she rubs her stomach again, “already broke his heart enough.”
Holy fuck is all I can manage right now. “I’m sorry, I had no idea and why I have to make this right. Please, let me,” I beg, knowing that from this day forward, I’m going to work hard to ensure the Brotherhood I don’t want to be part of changes its rules, whatever the consequence.
“How can I marry a boy I hate,” she mumbles. “Whether you knew or not doesn’t matter because you were the one that hurt me.”
