Nine
K nock. Knock knock , knock. Knock.
The pattern lets me know it’s Shay, so I open the door with one heel still unstrapped and my curls falling out of their pins. She won’t judge me. “He’s here already?” I ask frantically, nearly tripping as I bend down to fix my shoe. “Leave it to Chief Harbough to show up an hour before an event. Probably did a perimeter check before he came in.”
She laughs, but it’s nervous. Too tight to be a good sign. “Yeah. He’s down there with Verna right now.”
Fuck. That woman hates me. She was cordial enough the first few nights, but the more times she finds me baking in the kitchen or goofing off with the staff, the more she turns her nose up at me. I’m not good enough for her precious little boy.
It’s just a shame he agrees with her.
“Whatever. They can bond over what a pain in the ass I’ve always been. Can you help me with these damned pins? I can’t get them to stay to save my life.”
“Of course.” She reaches up, deftly moving until I feel the metal scraping against my scalp. I’d be annoyed at the pain if it wasn’t a telltale sign that they’re actually in correctly. “Are you nervous?”
I like Shay, I do. I’d go so far as to call us friends. But I haven’t told her the truth about Alex or Draven or any of it. I can’t. So I have to pretend that my nerves have everything to do with my impending engagement and not the fact that I’m constantly terrified we’ll be found out. “I am, actually. Alex and I have gotten a lot closer in the last month and a half, but I think that makes it worse. I’m not marrying some stranger anymore. I’m marrying someone I actually care about.”
That’s the truth, at least. I have grown to care about him, and despite everything I know about him and Morella, I still have a fucking fever dream wish that one day he’ll change his mind. That we can make this work.
It starts tonight.
“I’m glad. Your nails look amazing, your hair is now perfect, and I was totally right to go with a blue dress tonight instead of green. It complements you so well.”
I don’t bother glancing down at it. I know what I look like, and I could kiss her for giving me something with long sleeves and a respectable neckline. My father will be here, after all. He already thinks I’m a whore. “Are we starting dinner early then? Is that why you came to get me?”
Her face falls. “Actually, I came to warn you that Provost Creed will be here any minute. I overheard him telling Madeline that he needs to speak with you before dinner.”
“Probably just getting our stories straight for the Chief,” I muse. “Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I just thought you’d want to know. I’ll be back when it’s time to come down for dinner, okay? Do you need anything else?”
The devil himself appears in the doorway behind her, so I shake my head quickly and wave her off with a quick thank you. “Provost. I heard my father showed up early.”
He grunts his disapproval and looks behind him, making sure Shay isn’t within earshot anymore. Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, he pulls out a slender box and hands it to me. “Take it. Now.”
Thin and rectangular, the box is completely nondescript. No labels, no brand names, nothing at all to suggest what it is. Maybe it’s a new necklace or some other piece of jewelry meant to make me look more presentable in the engagement photos.
But as I slide it open and dump the contents into my palm, I freeze.
It’s a pregnancy test.
“Provost?” I meet his cold, dangerous eyes. “It’s only been a few weeks, I—”
“It’s been long enough. I’d like to know we’re on the right track before dinner tonight.”
It takes every ounce of my training to keep my head held high and my expression soft as panic races laps through my system. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
Palming the test, I make my way into my bathroom and don’t make a sound as I hike my dress up and try to get the right angle. I know it’ll be negative. I haven’t had sex since before Christmas, and I was on birth control then.
My mind jumps from one insane idea to another, each as useless as the next.
There’s no way to fake a positive that I know of, and even if there was, then what? There still won’t be a Creed heir in my belly.
“Miss Harbough,” he calls through the door. “I’m waiting.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Standing on shaky legs, I set the test on the counter, flush the toilet, and wash my hands just to buy myself a few more seconds.
He opens the door anyway.
“They take a few minutes to process,” I tell him. “I’m sure it’ll be done soon.”
“And? Will it be positive?”
No.
“I hope so.” I offer him a nervous smile, then flick my gaze down to the test. There’s only one line. “You know, tests are more accurate in the morning. The first p—”
“So it’s negative, then. I see. And you’re off your birth control?”
“Yes.” Truth.
“And you’re letting him breed you?”
What a way to fucking say it. “Yes.” Lie.
“How often?”
Shit.
“A few times a week.” Lie. “Your son has a healthy appetite.” I don’t know whether that’s true or not, but I hope for Morella’s sake, it is. “He wants this as badly as you do.”
“I doubt that, Miss Harbough. Clean yourself up and come downstairs. Dinner is almost ready and I’m sure your father is anxious to see you. I’ll have another test sent up to you in the morning, and every morning hereafter until you give me what I need.”
Jesus.
“Yes, Sir.”
I wait until he leaves, then sink down in a heap on my bathroom floor. If he’s this serious about it, there’s no way I make it out of this alive.
My days are numbered.