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I forced my restless fingers to unclench.

Calm. Stay calm.

My husband sat down in a chair, his fingers tapping on the wooden table, his legs stretching across the floor.

Expecting me to follow.

I only stared at him.

Was it my imagination or was he glancing down at my belly? How long had it been since he’d seen me? Had it been a few weeks? I’d lost some time to that gray blank of depression.

I hadn’t had my phone since the day they’d frame me. Who was they? I’d find that out soon enough.

So I didn’t know what fruit or veggie my baby was as big as now, but from the way he was pressing on my ribcage, squashing my organs, and make it hard to breathe, I guessed I was at watermelon level now.

Did Étienne ever wonder if he’d made a mistake?

“Where is your hospitality? Get me a glass of water.”

Anger curled inside me.

“Get your own glass of water."

I stared defiantly right back at him.

I couldn’t read the expression on his harsh face. Jaw like sharp glass, throat a column of muscle. Every inch of Étienne Bastide revealed what he wanted it to.

Nothing.

But, after all, I knew nothing about the man I had married.

Nothing at all.

“I’m thirsty. I want a glass of water.”

Fury sparking through my fingertips, I jerked open the cupboard behind me, to reveal the neat rows of upside-down cups.

“Well, there you go.”

His brows drew together.

“You know, Hugo’s life is very comfortable here. I could make it a lot less comfortable.”

Bastard.

I swallowed my anger and grabbed roughly for a cup.

“Now, that’s a good girl, Léonie.”

I tightened my lips as I poured him the most lukewarm cup ever. He was not going to get a rise out of me.

But then I moved closer.

“Come now, you can move a little faster,” he said mockingly, raising one finger.

Just one finger, the rest of his body looking entirely relaxed and entirely sure of me.

That’s how his whole life had been, I reflected bitterly. When Étienne raised a finger, he got what he walked.