32. Zara
ZARA
Another two days pass while I linger in purgatory.
I watch him swim laps in the pool, imagining his blood painting it red, only for my heart to twist, wishing it didn’t.
It is what it is.
Nine more days until I’ll be free. He gave me his word, and he will keep it. He has to.
I palm my belly, emotions lodging thick in my throat. “That’s your daddy. I don’t know if you’re going to meet him, though, because he drives me insane. He did the unforgivable, and Mommy can’t forgive him.”
That’s the reality he refuses to accept. Erasing my memories is something I can’t overlook.
One of these days, I will ask him why he killed my father, but something inside me rebels, aware everything will change.
I expect him to tell me, but he doesn’t. He loves tormenting me, aware that once I ask, I am ready to hear his side. And that feels like surrender—one he won’t get.
Like that one time in the shower. It was a lapse in judgment as emotions overthrew common sense.
Here I am, thinking all these big words and fortifying my walls with a conviction he quickly eradicates. He only has to touch me, and I dissolve into a puddle of need.
Body betrayal syndrome. I am too weak for him, and the asshole knows me—apparently better than I know myself. No wonder he so easily fooled me, tricking me into falling in love with him for a second time.
I stare at my wedding band and engagement ring—the undeniable proof that something was fishy. This man doesn’t share; he loves to possess. Yet he accepted me wearing someone else’s ring? I feel like the biggest fool, especially since I was jealous of myself.
His strong arms thread through the water with such elegance and skill, a predator skimming the surface—always in control. He’s a shark in and out of a suit.
He shouldn’t exert himself, but he can do whatever the fuck he wants. While I came to unplug him, he pulled the rug from under my feet. The irony isn’t lost on me.
I can lie all I want, but I am glad he survived. I would have lost it if the worst had happened.
I fondle my belly, a deep sigh tearing from my soul. “Your daddy is an asshole. I hate him. Especially because nothing he could do would make me fall out of love with him.”
That’s the biggest struggle. A battle I will lose.
Remembering my father, I wish I could talk to him so he could help me keep the enemy out. He was my everything. He shaped me into a confident, strong girl, and he instilled in me the belief that no one could ever dare hurt me.
Seated on a chaise lounge by the pool, with the umbrella casting protective shade from the burning sky, I watch Vian do laps, splitting the water that glistens like a blanket of diamonds.
His mad love for me charges every atom in my being. So why would he jeopardize that by killing the only other man I loved? It’s not something he would do. I just have to ask him, but I am too afraid of the truth.
While he’s intent on knocking me up, I can’t help but shake my head. The asshole already did that, but revealing that tidbit would ensure I never leave this place.
Pushing himself up the handrail, he gets out of the pool, and water glides down his carved torso, making me trace every drop.
The image is drool-inducing, and I wet my lips, imagining licking him.
Get a damn grip. Sure, this asshole is physical perfection, but his heart is corrupt. That’s what toxic love will do.
He snatches a towel and dries himself, laying in the chaise lounge, arms tucked behind his neck, looking like the epitome of serenity while I lose my mind every second here.
I storm toward him just to pop his peaceful bubble. “Not afraid to get burned?” I ask, egging him on. He has no business being this relaxed while he holds me captive.
“I’m cold-blooded. Reptiles love the sun. That’s why I need you.” The corners of his mouth arch up in a wolfish smile.
“So funny,” I snicker, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I wasn’t joking.”
I can’t shake the impression he’s up to something. Here I am, trying my best to provoke a fight, yet he’s not taking the bait, the insufferable, cunning ass. “I hope you get a sunburn.”
“You take such good care of me, so it wouldn’t matter.”
I tilt my chin up. Please, God, give me strength. The devil incarnate is testing me.
He flicks his index finger toward me. “Come here.”
“No.”
“Come here, Zara, or I will get you.” His deep voice drips with command.
I should hate him for daring to order me around, but damn, it makes me hot. My traitorous body slips into arousal, and he hasn’t even touched me.
I would trade my body if I could, so he would stop eyeing it like it’s his to do with as he pleases.
Unaware of my own legs, I reach him in one step, and he drags me onto his lap and begins massaging my shoulders, unknotting the muscles there.
His hands on my aching body feel so good, as if he weaves magic with his fingers.
A small moan slips from my lips, tension lifting from my muscles with each expert stroke.
I give in, the ministrations feeling marvelous. Entering a trance, I lean against his chest as he runs his knuckles down my back.
I am about to move when he grips my waist, squeezing a little. We don’t need words to communicate, and it’s as disturbing as it is comforting.
“Let me go.”
He brushes his nose along my cheek, his voice sounding hoarse. “Not now. Never if it were up to me.”
“Luckily, it’s up to me,” I snap, tired of fighting myself and him. It’s a losing game, one I haven’t had enough of.
There’s no shame in quitting, yet I am too involved to stop.
He rolls us to the side, his body enveloping me in false safety. “You haven’t been sleeping.”
Your baby keeps me awake is on the tip of my tongue, but I catch myself before saying it.
I don’t want him to notice anything pregnancy-related, though I doubt he would. While I am constantly tired during the day, I brim with energy at night. My bouts of throwing up have been random and not as intense as the first ones.
“Blame it on the stress of being a captive.”
“It must be such a hardship,” he chuckles, not sounding apologetic at all.
I can’t believe the asshole makes fun of my fucked situation––literally and metaphorically.
I dig my finger into his stone chest. Words elude me when I notice the warmth in his eyes, his feelings for me so clear that they unravel me, and I forget everything, including my anger.
He leans in and kisses my forehead as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Stop touching and kissing me. I don’t recall giving you permission.”
“I never needed it.”
I whip my chin to him. “You––”
“I don’t need it now either.”
I purse my lips, the vein in my temple throbbing. It’s a wonder my head doesn’t explode.
“Close your eyes,” he says in a gentle yet firm tone, compelling me.
“Anything else you’d like?” I ask, infusing as much annoyance as I can.
“Not at the moment.” He tugs a strand of hair behind my ear. “You need sleep.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mumble, “I need to escape you.”
He cocks his head, simply taking me in. “That won’t be possible for either of us, Zara.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
He drapes a protective arm over my belly. “You’re my priority.”
I close my eyes, hoping he’ll shut his mouth and stop spewing so much bullshit and not because I feel tired.
His soft touch and his steady beating heart lull me to sleep, and oblivion catches me in its arms. I surrender only to wake up with my cheek resting on his chest, my palm next to it, and his hand caressing my hair.
I don’t know how long I napped, but I feel better, less cranky. That ends when my brain wakes up and reminds me where I am and who’s holding me.
I jerk up and he sighs, aware that the peace has evaporated.
The sun has moved some more to the west, and my stomach grumbles.
Without a single word, he goes inside, surely to fetch me something to eat.
It’s his mess, anyway. I am hungry and sleepy all the time because of him. At this rate, we won’t make it two weeks with my cravings.
“Just like your daddy,” I say, the softness in my voice surprising me. “My little demanding prince.”
I know it’s a boy; I feel it with every fiber of my being, and warmth spreads through me. I am going to be a mother.
I already am, and I keep fondling my belly, forgetting who fathered my small wonder.
“I hope you take after me,” I whisper. It would be too hard to see his mini-me.
Vian clears his throat, and it startles me, my hands palming my belly like a shield.
Please don’t see the truth.
“Can’t you announce yourself first?” I snap, my heart shooting up in my throat.
Keep it together, Zara. If I continue behaving jittery, he will discover my secret.
“It wasn’t I who was daydreaming.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” I mumble and snatch the plate from him.
I dig into the chicken and sun-dried tomato sauce. The rich flavors melt on my tongue, and I steal some of his food too until he offers me his plate. Luckily, he says nothing, just keeps eyeing me as I scarf the food down.
“What?” I say through a mouthful. “I plan to eat until you won’t find me attractive anymore.”
He looks at me with such honesty and adoration, weakening me––my resolve and my heart.
“Ah, Zara, baby. Go ahead. My love for you is not attached to your figure. It will be more for me to love, fondle, and fuck.”
Good God, why must he say all the right things? It’s not helping my cause.
He clears his throat, eyeing me intently. “There’s a pregnancy test in the bathroom. I would like you to take it.”
I blink, choking on the last piece of meat. Instantly, he’s at my back helping me dislodge it.
“I’m not—” I gulp, stopping mid-sentence. Apparently, blatantly lying to him is out of the question. At least one of us attempts to be moral.
“If you say so. I don’t see the problem––”
He can’t find out. He simply can’t.
“Are you going to force me?” I cut him off, raising a brow in defiance. “Are you that desperate to keep me?”
He rakes a hand through his hair, seeming at a loss for words. “No. And yes. I just—”
“Not everything goes according to your plan, Vian. I know you would love to trap me forever, but guess what? That will never happen.”
His eyes darken, and the vein in his neck pulses with furious blood flow. “Carrying my child would feel like a fucking life sentence to you?”
Yes and no. I don’t know. I am lost, Vian. I am so lost.
Overwhelmed and an emotional mess, my eyes well up.
He lets out a sound of an injured animal and shoots up, his back muscles straining to the point of popping.
“Fuck.” He grips the glass railing hard enough that his knuckles whiten. “I don’t fucking know what to do anymore. It feels like nothing I do is right.”
His words twist the knife in my chest even deeper. “You should let me go. That would be a first step.” I sniffle, realizing I don’t wish to leave as much as I pretend to.
It’s his presence, I tell myself, that muddles my brain. Once I am away from him, I will think straight and figure out my next steps.
“My time is not up,” he says low, looking at me over his shoulder as the invisible clock keeps ticking—not toward my salvation, but toward my doom.
Every day it feels like I inch more toward him than away from him. I am screwed if he insists on taking that test.
“Maybe it’s anemia. There are some vitamins in the back cabinet,” he says, sounding resigned.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and stand, carrying a heavy heart with me. I know why he wants a baby, and it pisses me off that’s the main reason to keep me.
Near the terrace entrance, I spin around. “By the way, you should want a baby for its sake, not to keep his mommy.”
His eyes spark at the prospect. “His, huh?”
Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
I close my eyes for a moment, curling my hands at my sides, my frustration reaching a new level. “Of course, it has to be a he… someone you could turn into your mini me. Your heir.”
He gets in my face so fast, a predator pouncing on unsuspecting prey, that my breath hitches.
He cups my cheeks, desperation etched into his features.
“I couldn’t care less about my child’s sex.
And I want a baby because I want the physical embodiment of our love.
Is that so wrong? To have a piece of the woman I love and me running around, calling me Daddy? ”
Tears coat my eyelids.
He rubs my cheeks with his thumbs so soft the opposite of his gruff tone. “I crave to love more of you. And you thinking I want to trap you by getting you pregnant hurts way fucking more than you shooting me.”
I slap my hands against his chest, shouting my despair. “Don’t you think about me? About the implications? That I would carry the child of my father’s murderer?”
He doesn’t stop me as I push at him, but my pain goes deeper than that. Even though he’s an unmoving stone, I don’t stop until the anger drains from me—but not for long. My sorrow is a bottomless well.
His arms drop by his side, no force left. “Would you get rid of my baby?” he asks, sounding dead, sending a chill to freeze me.
I blink. Is this what the asshole got from my speech?
“So black and white with you. My world is gray, Vian.”
“Answer me.” He grips my elbow, yanking me to his chest, where his heart pounds a merciless rhythm. I am afraid it will explode any moment now.
Say yes. Lie, and then my ordeal would end.
I wish my cruelty would overshadow my love for him.
I wish my hatred would surpass the small wonder growing inside of me.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“No?” he seeks my eyes as if to detect the potential lie.
“I will love it despite what you did to me, despite what has transpired between us.”
“What I did to you?” he asks hoarsely. “What I did to you?” he repeats in a trance, lost in thought. “You found me guilty long before I could plead my case.”
“Your sins have grown worse. There’s no absolving the wicked, Vian. Love is not an excuse,” I murmur and disappear inside, thinking I will lose it any second and simply dissolve in his arms, asking him to make me forget. If that isn’t ironic, I don’t know what is.
Fighting my love for him goes against my nature, and it will split me apart.
I have a baby to think about.