AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The weight of the gun in my right hand is a reminder that I can protect myself–protect us.
The lamp on the table beside the shadow flicks on, bathing the room in golden light. I release a breath. ItisAlexander, but he looks different. The few hours he’s been gone seem to have aged him a year or two. And the fact that he slipped into the room to wait on me in the dark doesn’t make me hopeful about his state of mind.
Nonetheless, I walk over to the ottoman at the foot of the bed, sinking into the plush material. I place the gun beside me, not breaking eye contact with him. We’re a dozen feet apart, and in the wan light I can’t make out the details of his features—only the disheveled hair, the half-buttoned shirt, the deep set of his eyebrows over his shining eyes, the frown twisting his lips.
Where have you been?
The question doesn’t make it past my lips.
I’ve never had a reason to doubt Alexander’s love for me, his loyalty, before. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like the only woman in his stratosphere—even when I hated him. For the first time, though, I can’t be sure.
And it might be foolish of me, but I don’t think I want to know.
There’s already too much going on, too much that we need to talk about for me to allow the jealousy clawing at my throat to push me back into the angry, dark place I was earlier. No, I need to focus on what’s best for our family.
“We need to talk.” I make my voice louder than usual so it will carry.
He lets out a rumbling laugh. There’s no humor in it, though. It’s almost mocking. “Funny you should say that, because that’s what I came here to tell you.”
My stomach sinks like a stone.
I know what I need to talk to him about, but what else does he want to talk to me about? Is he going to pick apart my parentage more? Or is there something else? I squeeze my fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to touch my stomach.
“You go first,” I say, my voice shaking a bit.
I should get things out in the open, but I need to know what’s on his mind first. Alexander is the kind of man who would stay with me solely because we’re having a child together. He would think it his duty, even if he no longer wanted me.
I want a happy home for our child, with both parents. But I also don’t want him to stay with me out of obligation. The engagement ring on my finger suddenly feels as heavy as a millstone. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about, but I can already tell that it will change the course of our future somehow.
Alexander rises from his chair then, standing to his full height with slow, painful-looking movements. He doesn’t seem hurt, apart from the bandage on the side of his head. He takes a few strides toward me, stopping a foot away from me. He’s close enough that I have to look up to meet his gaze, but far enough away from the lamp that the shadows have started to envelop him again.
A draft carries the smell of him to my nose and mingled in with the familiar musk is the aroma of spiced liquor. He’s been drinking.
That explains a lot.
Even with the gun in my hand, I feel a lot less safe than before.
I clench my thighs together as Alexander’s eyes rove over my body. A shiver snakes its way up my spine, before turning hot against the back of my neck. Despite all the uncertainty, I still want him—the darkness and mysteriousness between us reminds me a lot of that night back in his room on campus when he startled me awake.
I want to run my fingers along his exposed chest, tracing the curve of each defined muscle with the pad of my thumb, to press kisses to his toned, taut skin.
I shouldn’t. Not now. So I keep my eyes on the shadows of his face.
But with every scared beat of my heart, there’s a corresponding pulse deep in my belly. It’s a horrible time to be turned on by danger.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Alexander says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I was angry at you about it, but it was unfair for me to treat you like that without even explaining to you why I was so angry.”
My mind is whirring at a thousand miles per minute, but I try to keep myself rooted in the present, to actually listen to the words coming out of his mouth. Because nothing I’m assuming right now can be good.
He isn’t trying to break up with me, is he?
“I was desperate to know who your father was because…” There’s a long, unnatural pause. He clenches his teeth, his eyes widening slightly, like he’s trying to force the words out of his mouth. This is still about my father? “Michel Moreau killed my mum.”
My jaw drops.
And I’m on my feet, rushing over to him, holding on to his forearms, looking up into his eyes so I can really see him. “W-what?”
Alexander looks like he’s trapped in a wall of ice. He’s too still, only his eyes moving at a breakneck pace. Now I’m this close to him, the smell of liquor is overwhelming. Did he drive like this? It’s a miracle he made it back in one piece.
