Page 98

“She is the true mistress of this house,” he says, taking a sip of water.

He’s a big man. Not as built as Caius or Cal, but not lean like Cain or Dean. He keeps his head shaved, and his eyes always look like they’re zeroing in on a target.

Everything he does feels lethal.

“I know we haven’t seen each other for a while. But I’m a doctor now. And I can tell you that she isn’t well.” His gaze goes from me, then to Daphne. “May I take a look at her?” I ask gently, taking the final bite of my dinner. He nods, and I walk around the table, kneeling in front of her. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I… I have a headache... An earache…”

“For how long?” I ask, gently touching the back of my hand to her forehead, her cheek, her neck.

“I’m not sure… Maybe eighteen to twenty nights?”

Jesus, she counts her time in nights.

I gently tilt her head, lifting her ear to face the light. Then I grab a tissue from the counter and dab it into her ear, revealing pus and blood.

I sigh, tossing the tissue into the bin in the corner. Then I stand behind my place, resting my hands on the back of the chair.

“She has a bad ear infection.”

“Mm.” He mumbles, leaning back in his seat and meeting my gaze.

“She needs antibiotics, some acetaminophen for the pain.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You love her?” I ask, keeping my tone level.

I’m here as his insurance policy. She’s here because his family won’t allow him to have her any other way.

“Yes,” he says, his lips tight.

“Then you need to take her to the clinic… And you need to let me go.”

“First, we can get Daphne anything she needs. Second, it’ll be better for you if you skip the denial and grief and jump to acceptance.” He points at me. “You are never leaving this place.”

“Cain will be looking for me…” I swallow and take a deep breath.

“Your little boyfriend will have to move on.” He smirks, “I know someone eager to take your place.”

“Cain is my real husband and the father of our baby.” I place my hands over my belly, his brow wrinkles, and his eyes narrow in a glare. “He will not move on from us.”

“Roman, bring Ms. Daily back to her room.”

Turning on my heel, I follow Roman back down the hall and up the three flights of stairs to my tower. When we arrive, he lights the sconces on the wall, illuminating the room in a dim glow. He looks at me, his lips flattened together, his eyes scrunched a fraction, as if he feels bad for me.

“Goodnight, Ms.” He says, then exits and shuts the door behind him.

I sit at the end of my bed, my hands gripping the comforter. My heart beats a little harder, my thoughts running a little faster.

If that is how he treats someone he supposedly loves, what will he do to me?

My door doesn’t lock from the inside. What if he decides to kill me in the night?

I should give you smaller braids, cut them into the most beautiful rope, and tie you to my bed with it.

Cain’s words whisper in the wind, giving me the answer…

Rope.

My hair is thick and reaches my thighs; with the right woven pattern, I could have several feet of rope.