Page 7 of Cruel Submission

She picks up on the first ring. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” I roll onto my side, tucking the phone against my ear. “Thanks again for letting me crash. You’re a lifesaver.”

“The things I do for friendship.” Warmth fills her voice. Then it shifts. “Mira. Please tell me you’re staying inside today. Yesterday scared the shit out of me.”

“I know.”

“So you’ll stay put?”

I close my eyes. “I have to go see Dad soon.”

“Mirabel—”

“He’s dying, Di. I can’t just—” My voice cracks. “I can’t not see him.”

Silence. Then: “Let me go. I’ll visit him at the hospital. We can FaceTime—”

“And what do I tell Dad? ‘Sorry, can’t visit because I almost got kidnapped’?” I sit up. “He’ll have a heart attack on the spot. No. I can’t. I’ll visit him myself.”

“Then at least stay in the house until then,” Diane pushes. “And for God’s sake, tell Arkady what happened.”

“He won’t let me leave if I tell him.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing!”

“I know him, Di. He’ll lock me in this house. Make decisions about my body, my father, everything.” I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “He’ll want control.”

“Because he’ll want you safe.”

“Because he’s a goddamn control freak.” I huff out a breath. “I’m not going to do it.”

Diane sighs. “You’re impossible.”

“Learned from the best.”

A pause. Then: “You’re going to tell him eventually. About the kidnapping. About the baby. There’s no getting away from it.”

“I know.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” I press my free hand to my stomach. “Soon. I just need more time.”

“Time for what?”

Good question.

Time to figure out how to tell him I’m pregnant without losing everything. Time to understand why his father’s men grabbed me. Time to find some way to stabilize my world.

Time to prepare for the moment he looks at me and decides I’m not worth the trouble.

“I don’t know,” I say again.

Diane makes a noise that’s half sympathy, half exasperation. “Okay. But Mira? Don’t wait too long. Secrets like this don’t keep.”

“I know.”

We talk for a few more minutes about nothing important. When we hang up, the silence rushes back in.