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I shake my head. “I have no idea. I’ve never been pregnant before. I guess a few weeks or something? But it varies based on the woman.”
“Right.”
Tired and weak, I blink at him while he paces in front of me. He’s wearing nothing but boxers and a tee that’s molded to his perfect physique.
I forgot how gorgeous he was.
He’s stunning when he’s dressed in a suit with a crisp white dress shirt, but the casual look highlights every casually masculine detail that makes my heart beat faster.
When there’s a knock at the door, he turns to answer it, murmurs under his breath, then comes back with a cup of something steamy that smells like mint. “My staff found this for you.” I take a sip, pleased my belly’s beginning to settle a little bit.
“You’re still my prisoner,” he says, as if to remind me that he’s not going to gotooeasy on me.
I sigh wearily and lean my head back against the pillow. “We’ve established that.”
“And soon we’ll find out if I’m the father.”
I smile wanly. “No.Youwill. Unless I was abducted by aliens and impregnated in my sleep, I already know the answer to that question.”
How will he react when he knows the truth? He’s possessive but furious.
A knock sounds at the door.
“That will be breakfast. Get under those fucking covers so they don’t see you.” I smirk to myself when I look down and see I’m wearing a tank and shorts.
“Sure thing.” I slide back under the covers and pull them up to my chin. When he opens the door, my mouth waters at the smell of freshly baked bread.
The room’s so small, I can hear every word he says. “Did you hear anything about what happened last night?”
What happened last night?
“Not much, sir, but I’ll see what I can find. There’s a rumor your family’s been mentioned on the news.”
His family? What’s going on?
“Son of a bitch.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to get her settled before I look, but thanks.”
Shutting the door, he walks over to me with a wooden tray. He grunts and points like a caveman. “I had them make you things you like. Try a little bite. It might help.”
I stare at the tray and my throat gets all tight. While breakfast in France is a simple affair, he’s arranged to have it served the way I like it—the sliced bread toasted and spread with butter and marmalade. The tea scalding hot with a splash of milk. Orange juice with no pulp, and a small basket of flaky croissants served with a side of softened butter.
I could handle being a prisoner. I could handle being held against my will. But how am I supposed to handle being with someone who knows me so intimately he knows exactly what I like? It’s the worst kind of vulnerability because there’s no place to hide.
My belly aches for food, but I fear another bite of something will make me sick again.
I turn my head away.
“One bite, Cosette.”
I shake my head and press my lips together.
“Cosette,” he says warningly.
I take another sip of the mint tea and stare at him. “So now that you know I’m pregnant, you’re going to punish me by making me do things I don’t want to, like eat?”
He pulls out the desk chair and sits heavily. Leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, he looks straight into my eyes and doesn’t answer my question but asks a question of his own, in typical Lyam style.
“Am I going to make you do what you should? Yes.”
