Kane hasn’t brought up me getting pregnant, and I’m glad for that. I might be marrying the man, but there’s no way I’m having his babies. I’d rather never have children than have them with a man who will never love me.
“Please,”I beg, unsure if anyone can even hear me. “Please don’t take my baby.”
“You did this,” Andrey hisses, coming into view.
He towers over me, a look of disgust marring his features. “You’re a whore who chose to spread her legs, and now I’m forced to fix the problem you created.”
“Please,” I say again. “I’m sorry. The baby might be Anthony’s?—”
“Enough!” he barks and then leans in close to my face. “No daughter of mine will have a bastard born out of wedlock. It’s bad enough you’re now damaged goods.”
“He … he raped me,” I whisper.
“Because you’d spread your legs for another man!” His hand connects with my cheek, and I choke out a sob. “You’re a disgrace to this family, and when they’re done taking the bastard out of you, you’re coming home.”
I close my eyes and blink back my tears, not wanting to give himany more of myself. Only when I open them, rather than the doctor standing over me, it’s Kane.
“Come back to me,Princess. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, it’s not real. You’re having a nightmare.”
My hand flies to my stomach.Is this real? Am I still pregnant?
“Brielle … Brielle, wake up, baby.”
My eyes snap open, and instead of lying in a medical clinic, I’m in Kane’s arms, nestled against his chest.
Instinctually, my hand goes to my belly, but it’s flat. I’m not pregnant. Because Andrey took my baby from me.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and when I suck in a harsh breath, I’m met with resistance. I’m having another panic attack.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Kane says, his words soothing. “Focus on your breathing.”
With me still in his arms, he manages to turn on the tub water and pour bubbles into the water. The lavender scent fills the room, and I snuggle closer into his hold.
He should be the last person I turn to for comfort, but I’m drowning in the past, and he’s the only life raft I have.
“Here you go,” he says, lowering me into the tub. “This should help.”
“No, please,” I beg, not caring how needy I sound.
Every time I have a nightmare, I handle it alone. Body sweating, heart racing. It takes hours to compose myself. But in his arms, my body is already calming, and I don’t want him to let go of me.
I expect him to get annoyed, but instead, he steps into the tub, still dressed in his sweats, and holds me, like I’m precious to him and not the woman he’s forcing to marry him to help his agenda. Between his warmth, the hot water, and the calming scent, within minutes, my heart rate slows down significantly.
I’m so exhausted from the nightmare that I can’t keep my eyes open, so I let them fall closed, doing something I haven’t done in a long time—trusting someone to keep me safe.
When I wake up, I’m back in bed, under the covers, with Kane’s arms protectively wrapped around me from behind. His hard chest is pressed up against my back, and his face is nuzzled into the crook of my neck.
The last man I was this close to was Owen?—
“I know you’re awake,” Kane rasps. “Your breathing changes, and your body tenses up.” Instead of rolling me onto my back, he rolls onto his and pulls me with him so I’m spread across his body. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
Unable to make eye contact, I lay my head on his chest, using the rhythm of his heartbeat to steady mine.
A part of me wants to tell him what happened, but another part of me doesn’t want to give him any more of myself than I’m being forced to.
Not fighting Andrey harder was the biggest mistake of my life. I’ll always wonder if I had fought harder, screamed louder, found a way to run faster, if my baby—and possibly Owen—would be alive. And when I think about it or talk about it, I feel like a stupid, weak little girl all over again.
“It was just a nightmare,” I mutter.
