Page 33 of Claimed By my Ex’s Uncle

Because next time, whoever dares threaten Rose will pay with their fucking life.

Chapter 17

Rose

I muster every inch of my pride and certainty as I stand there in front of the door, telling myself that I need to get the hell out of here already. My stomach is rumbling—I need to eat, and more importantly, so does the baby.

But the thought of leaving the bedroom right now is more than I can take. Because every man in this place saw me getting fucked by Ilya right there on the desk the day before, and I have no idea where that leaves me.

Come on, Rose.

I press my hand into the door and find it’s unlocked, much to my surprise. But when I push it open, I see two men standing on either side of it. Of course. I mean, I should have known that Ilya wouldn’t give me that much freedom.

I lower my gaze to the floor, feeling their eyes on me as I hurry past, praying that they don’t notice my blazing red cheeks. I make my way to the kitchen, where Ilya is brewing coffee as though it’s just another day. I stand there for a moment, staring at the back of his head, until he glances around and notices me.

“Good morning,” he says.

"Good morning? You’re going to talk to me like everything’s normal?”

He leans on the counter, coffee cup in one hand, expression unreadable. "How would you like me to talk to you?”

My cheeks flush as my brain offers an answer to that question—one that I won’t dignify with a confession. There’s a guard standing at the kitchen door, and while his eyes are fixed forward, I can tell that he’s listening in to our conversation.

"I mean, after what happened yesterday." I stammer.

"What part of it?"

He’s daring me to come out and say it, I can tell. I get the feeling that he likes teasing me this way, pushing me to my breaking point, trying to get me to admit how much I enjoy it.

But I won’t give in. I toss my hair over one shoulder, pressing my lips together.

"I want a coffee. Can you make me one?”

"You shouldn’t be drinking coffee. Not in your condition."

I roll my eyes skyward. "What, you’re my doctor now?"

"No," he replies evenly. "But the doctor will be by later today. He’s going to stop in every two weeks to check on how the pregnancy is advancing."

"Every two weeks?” I say. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

"I’m not taking any chances," he shoots back. "That baby is going to be born healthy. I’m going to make sure of it."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. No freedom, no privacy, and now no coffee. I think I’m going to lose it.

"And what am I meant to do in the meantime? Just stand around here, waiting for the baby to be born?”

A small grin quirks up the corner of his lip. "I can think of a few ways you could pass the time here. In fact, I showed you one yesterday."

I clench my fists at my sides, hoping to dissipate some of the tension that wants to rise in me right now. I hate how easy it is for him to get his hooks into me.

"I’m not...your men are going to think that I’m some kind of prostitute," I protest, running a hand through my hair. "I’m not going to do anything like that, not ever again. I⁠—"

He steps towards me, casting his coffee cup aside and pulling me into a kiss before I can say another word. His tongue snakes into my mouth as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close and knocking every damn thought out of my head. Stunned, I draw in a sharp breath against his lips. One of his guards is right there, but he seems determined to prove that he has rights to me, no matter who is watching.

When he draws back, he is grinning again, no doubt aware of the effect he has on me. He releases me, and I cast my gaze to the floor, my body awash with emotions I can’t make sense of.

"I’ll have Marsha bring you breakfast in your room," he tells me. "Go. I’ll call you when the doctor arrives."