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“I have to tell you, Princess, I’m surprised I’m not out back digging a hole in Niko’s mother’s garden.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Lucia snaps.
He arches a brow at her. My impression is he’s more amused than offended.
“I swear, you goons are the most insecure men on the earth.”
I place my hand on Lucia’s. “Maybe let’s not upset him.”
“Insecure? Do tell me more.”
“Why else would you live your life picking on people smaller than you? You feel small, and threatening us makes you feel big. It’s disgusting.”
“What’s disgusting is how Elena spoke to Niko. Do you have a death wish, Princess? You must. Why else would you call him inept?”
Lucia’s head snaps to me, her mouth gaping again. “You did what?”
I shrug. “He said he’d protect you and Kate. I thought he failed. My anger got the best of me.”
Donovan sips his wine. “Niko showed more restraint than I’ve ever seen.” He studies me. “He must like you.” The waggle of his brow tells me he means Niko must like me in bed.
“You’re crass,” Lucia says.
He shrugs. A servant enters carrying two plates, giving one to me and the other to Lucia.
“Where is Niko?” I ask, picking up my fork in an attempt to eat. My stomach is in knots, but for once, it isn’t about the pregnancy.
“He went back to the city.”
“Without telling me?”
Donovan’s head cocks to the side, his expression one of curiosity. “You’re not his wife, Princess. He doesn’t have to report to you.”
I nod quickly. “Yes, of course, it’s just that?—”
“You should be glad he left. He could change his mind about you.”
Fear trickles down my spine. Have I signed my death warrant?
“Asshole.” Lucia shakes her head. “Do you have anything useful to say? What about her friend? Any word on that?”
Donovan shakes his head. “Nope. Now eat up, Princess. Rumor has it you don’t eat enough.”
Later that night,I lay in bed. Lucia is sleeping next to me, but I’m wide awake. I’m thinking about Niko. How mad is he? Is he so mad that he won’t help Kate as payback to me? Will he return here for me? When he does, will it be to kill me?
I quietly get up and head downstairs in search of Donovan. I find him in the kitchen eating pie.
“If you’re thinking of escaping?—”
“Can I call Niko?”
His head jerks back as if he didn’t expect that. “Why?”
“To apologize.”
He smirks. “You can grovel and beg for your life when?—”
“Please, Donovan.” I hope that using his name will bring some humanity to this exchange.
