Seven. Eight?—
I let out a sob, shoving my fist against my mouth hard enough to break skin. But no matter how hard I try, I can't get my lungs to work. Each breath catches halfway, hitches, refuses to complete. I'm suffocating in a room full of air.
I picture Hale. His tiny hands, always reaching for mine. The gap-toothed smile that stops my heart every time. The way he still smells like baby shampoo and sleep when I hold him close in the morning.
If I fall apart now, I lose him.
If I don't walk back into that room and finish this nightmare, Ewan will take him from me. And I will not survive that.
You can do this.
You have to do this.
He's counting on you.
I drag myself off the floor. One hand on the sink, then both, hauling myself upright while my legs threaten to buckle. I smooth down the red dress. Check my reflection in the small, spotted mirror.
Mascara streaked. Lips bitten raw. Eyes that belong to someone who died a long time ago.
Good enough.
I turn and unlock the door, reaching for the handle?—
It flies open before I can touch it.
"I don't recall dismissing you."
My heart plummets straight to the floor, through the foundation, into some cold, dark place where hope goes to die.
"Do you think this is some sort of game?" Ewan fills the doorway, blocking me in.
"I wasn't feeling well. I just needed a moment."
He steps inside. The bathroom contracts around him, walls pressing in until there's nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. No escape from the quiet fury radiating off him like a winter storm.
"You left without my permission." His voice is measured, which is always worse than shouting. "In the middle of dinner. In front of my guests."
"I'm sorry. I?—"
"You embarrassed me, Keira."
"That wasn't my intention."
"Intent is irrelevant." Another step, and I retreat until my spine hits the edge of the sink. "Results are what matter. And the result of your little performance is that Dashkov thinks you're unmanageable." His eyes narrow. "He thinks I can't control you."
I want to scream that Dashkov had his hand between my legs, that he whispered things in my ear that made me want to jump off the nearest cliff, that I left because staying would have meant breaking in front of everyone.
But it won't matter because he doesn't give a shit about me. Only his reputation.
"I'll apologize to him. I'll make it right."
Ewan laughs. "How exactly do you plan to do that? Dashkov is considering pulling out of the deal entirely. Do you understand what that costs me?"
I don't answer.
He registers my silence as weakness and moves closer, crowding me.
"Sometimes I forget how much work you still need." His hand comes up, cupping my face roughly. "I've been too lenient with you."
