Chapter 37
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
CHASSIS
“I want to know if you plan on coming after me in any way.”
It’s a bold question, and he could lie to me if he wanted. He probably will omit some of what he could be truthful about. I know him well enough to know he’d do just that. But I still feel like I need to ask.
I watch as he reaches out for his coffee, then slowly lifts it to meet his lips. He takes a sip, staying completely silent. I chew on the inside of my cheek, worrying a piece of skin there as I wait for him to respond.
He lowers his cup, his gaze searching mine for a moment. I’m pretty sure at some point he’s taken lessons on how to be stone fucking cold. There is zero warmth behind his eyes. He doesn’t even look at me with familiarity, and we slept together… a lot.
There is more familiarity between us than he would ever confess and more than I would ever care to think about again. But here we are, sitting across from one another, the evidence of the actual familiarity inside my belly.
The waitress appears before he speaks. I watch as she places a plate in front of him. It’s his normal meal here. I don’t remember what it’s called, but I almost laugh because this woman hasn’t even taken my order yet.
After she asks him if he needs anything else, she turns to me and arches a brow. A silent demand to know my order. I have to confess I’m a bit concerned she’s going to spit in my food if I order anything, but on the other hand, I don’t think I can walk out of here without my pancakes.
“I would like an order of syrniki, please.”
My lips curve up into a small smile, and she dips her chin before she turns around and walks away. As soon as she does, he shifts his focus to me, and finally, Samuil speaks, answering the question I almost forgot I even asked.
“Why would I come after you?” he asks.
The way he says it… I can tell he’s not being sincere. He’s being snarky. He’s not going to offer me a damn thing. I shouldn’t be surprised. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to get some closure on this.
He watches me in silence, his fork in his hand as he stabs his food a couple of times. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat once—the only sign that he’s somewhat uncomfortable—but his mask shifts back into place quickly.
“Samuil, don’t play dumb.”
He shrugs a shoulder, his gaze searching mine. His mask is back, and he’s giving me nothing. He doesn’t say anything immediately. I’m not sure what to say, but I know this conversation will be pointless unless I push it along.
“Are you going to come after the baby?” I ask.
He arches a brow, not answering me, not even blinking.
Hell, I’m not sure if he’s even breathing at this point.
He tilts his head to the side, then smirks before he straightens and stabs the food on his plate.
I can’t even begin to guess at what he’s eating, mainly because it’s all I can do to focus on his face.
“Why would I do that? You’re married.”
“What if it’s a boy?” I ask, ignoring his words.
There is a long moment of silence. Not a single word is spoken for an uncomfortable amount of time. And then my food arrives. Well, it’s plunked down in front of me, and I take a moment to break eye contact and flick my gaze down to the plate.
At first glance, I don’t see any spit, and it smells so amazing my mouth waters, so I decide spit or not, I’m going to just go for it. Picking up my knife and fork, I begin to cut into the pancakes.
Lifting the pancake to my lips, I wait for his response. He’s watching me. Silently watching me, with nothing going on behind his eyes. I wish I could shake him and make him say something, anything. Make him feel, make him show some sort of human emotion.
I realize now that whatever I felt for him, it wasn’t love. Not even in the slightest. I don’t feel even an ounce of what I feel for Amos for Samuil. There is literally nothing between us, but I need to know that he won’t be coming after me and this baby.
“You think I will come after that bastard because it’s a boy?”
The way he says bastard makes my skin crawl. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away as I wait for him to continue. If he wants to hurt me, he’s doing a decent job of it, and he knows it. There’s only so much I can hide.
“I don’t know what you’ll do, Samuil,” I admit the truth of it all.
I can’t read him. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I can’t predict what he’d do. I have no idea what he’s capable of, but seeing how panicked my dad, my brothers, and Amos are, I know it has to be really freaking bad.
“I guess you wouldn’t. You’re naive, Chassis. You were so easily manipulated and controlled. It was boring. It was so easy. This was not anticipated, though,” he says, lifting his hand to wave in front of me, as if gesturing to my belly.
“I know I was,” I confess. “I wanted so badly for what we had to be real. I ignored all the red flags.”
“And now?” he asks.
Samuil sits back as he oozes confidence and just stares at me. I don’t think there’s anyone I’ve wanted to scream at more in my life than I do this man right now. He’s an asshole, and he knows it.
“What do you want now, Chassis?”
I almost tell him that I want him to fuck himself. I don’t. “I want you to pretend you never knew me. I want you to never think about me, about this baby. I want you to stay far away. I want you to disappear.”
His eyes widen, and he makes a tsking sound before he leans forward slightly, lifting his elbows and placing them on the table, his eyes never leaving mine. I watch him for a long moment, then take another bite of pancake, because I can’t leave without a second bite.
“You want a lot from me, kisa.” I hate that pet name, but as much as I don’t want to, I don’t hiss or curl my nose when he says it. I’m able to keep a straight face, but only barely. Thankfully, he doesn’t say it again. Instead, his lips curve up into an evil-looking smile before he continues.
“What are you willing to do to make all your wants a reality?”