“And why the hell am I in your house?” I hiss, glaring at him. “You should’ve brought me home last night.”
“I did.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows.
His gaze roams down my body, and even though I know the shirt is covering the important parts, I still feel exposed.
“This is my home … and now, it’s yours as well.”
“Not until we get married,” I argue.
“Actually, there’s been a change of plans,” he says dryly. “Since you can’t be trusted to behave like a respectable adult, I’ve arranged for your belongings to be packed up and brought here. You’ll be moving in with me, effective immediately.”
“You can’t do that!” I shriek, the thought of having to share a house and a bed with this man making me hysterical.
“It’s already done.”
I grab my phone on the nightstand and don’t find a single text from my brother.
What the hell?I know he’s busy with his family, but damn.
“Daniil is delivering it all this morning.”
Fuck! I thought I had another few weeks—and I was hoping to prolong it more than that. I’ve never lived with a man before. And the last man I spent an entire night with—aside from last night, which I don’t even remember, thanks to the tequila shots—was Owen.
At the thought of him, my heart sinks as a flashback of the last time we were together hits me hard.
“It’s goingto be okay, babe.” Owen wraps his arms around me from behind and settles his hands on my nonexistent bump. “We’ll hide, and eventually, your old man will give up.”
I wish he were right, but that’s not the type of person my father is. He won’t give up until he finds us and drags me back home to marry that psycho Anthony.
Bile fills my mouth at the thought of having to spend my life with the man who raped me. I’d rather die than spend a night with him.
But I need to live because I have a baby growing inside me. I don’t know whose sperm it is—Anthony’s or Owen’s—but it doesn’t matter. The baby is part me, and Owen told me he’d love the baby, no matter what.
“I love you,” I whisper, shifting closer to him so my back is flush against his front and I’m surrounded by his warmth.
“I love you too.” He strokes his thumb up and down my lower belly. “And I love this baby.”
It doesn’t matter that we’re on the run, hiding out in a dingy, gross motel, in hope of escaping my father—one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever known. When I’m in Owen’s arms, I feel safe.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, and I dream of what life could be like if we could escape my father. Raising our little boy or girl together. Family breakfasts, trips to the park. Christmases filled with love and laughter.
I’ve never experienced anything like that—my father sucking the joy out of everything and everyone—but I’ve seen it on TV and when I’ve visited my friends. And it’s what I want. A doting husband who will make me and our children his world. A life with love and happiness.
Only when I wake up, reality is nothing like my dream. Owen is being dragged out of the bed. I’m screaming for my father to stop. Begging him to let him go.
“Brielle,”Kane says, bringing me back into the present.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until Kane reaches out and swipes my tears from under my eyes.
“I don’t share,” he says, tipping my chin up with his finger. “And the next time I see you flirting with another man, I will end his life. So, think long and hard before you use another man to make me jealous. If he dies, the blood will be on your hands.”
The blood will be on your hands …
“Just remember, you did this,”my father says as one of his men points the gun at Owen and ends his life. “You chose to run, and now his blood is on your hands. Let’s go. We have an appointment at the clinic to get that bastard taken out.”
“You can forceme to live with you, but I won’t be sleeping in this room,” I blurt out. “I want my own room. I need my own space away from you.”
Kane’s jaw tics, but he nods, thankfully choosing not to argue.
