Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lyra
When I wake up again, the sun hangs low in the horizon. It’s afternoon, and my brain hazily registers that I have a plane to catch.
Killian doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. He’s sitting in bed next to me, one hand idly resting on my stomach, the other holding a file of some sort, reading. I yawn, stretching drearily, and quietly begin to shift away from him.
He throws me a vaguely amused look from the corner of his eyes. “No sense in that anymore, sweetheart,” he says. “You’ll be moving in with me this week. I plan on touching you often and in dirty ways that’ll make your head spin.”
A mixture of emotions tear through my system like a hurricane. Trepidation, fear, and anxiety are in the mix, but so is another, different, warmer feeling that unnerves me more than the others combined.
“I never agreed to any of this,” I remind him, though my tone lacks any real conviction. If the last two months have taught me anything, it’s that Killian always gets what he wants, without fail. If he wants me, barefoot and pregnant, that’s what he’ll achieve.
My only recourse now is negotiation.
And the exposé.
“I didn’t ask for your agreement.”
Something unpleasant twists my chest. Something that feels uncomfortably close to pain.
“Do you really care so little for my opinion?”
“On the contrary, I care very much for your opinion. I care more than I’ve cared about anyone’s in a very long time. Believe me when I say, this surprises no one more than it surprises me.”
I take a few beats to digest that. Killian is many things, but he’s not an outright liar unless he has a good motive to lie.
Right now, there’s no reason for him to be anything but truthful.
He’s gotten everything he wanted from me, and now I’ll have to carry his heir and take his last name—unless I find a way out.
Why would he try to make me feel better about it?
He wouldn’t.
Still… “If you cared about my opinion, you wouldn’t constantly disregard my wishes and desires.”
Killian waves a dismissive hand. “I do that because you insist on putting us in a battle of wills—one you must know you can’t possibly win.
And yet, you persist. It’s equal parts admirable and infuriating.
” He sweeps his thumb over my belly button, and I shiver.
“If you stopped fighting me and started working with me, however, you’d understand that there’s very little you couldn’t achieve while I’m backing you. ”
“I can’t give into you.”
“Why?”
Because you’re a beast. Because you’ve hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt. Because you remind me of how low and unimportant I am every chance you get.
I sum it up with, “Because that’d be betraying everything I stand for.”
Killian shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t. You might find that you could have a lot of influence over me, Lyra.” His jaw ticks, informing me of his sentiments on that matter. “You shouldn’t, but you do. You should use that to your advantage. Make requests that don’t involve me letting you leave.”
“But that’s what I want above all else,” I whisper.
Killian’s eyebrows raise. He sets aside the packet of papers and rolls over to face me. His hand moves from my stomach to my waist, and he tugs me close.
“Is it?” he asks softly. “Is it truly? And, if the answer is yes, have you thoroughly considered all the opportunities you’d lose if I let you go?”
I don’t respond.
He takes that as a concession. “The way I see it, Lyra, you’ve spent your entire life taking care of people.
Your sister. Your grandmother. Yourself.
The one thing you’ve always lacked is someone to take care of you.
” His fingers find my chin, and he tilts my head up.
I meet his gaze willingly, feeling confused and lost and yet somehow, seen and found.
For his many faults, Killian sees me in a way no one else has ever bothered to.
“I’ll take care of you.” He brushes his nose over mine.
“I’ll look after you. I’ll make your life so much fuller than it would’ve otherwise been.
” He kisses my lips softly. I don’t respond, but I don’t shy away, either.
“I’ll give you the children you’re destined to have, and the resources to care for them.
I’ll put your books in every bookstore in the world and fund social media campaigns to ensure your success.
I’m a beast, Lyra—I’ve never denied that.
Yet you’ve managed to enslave this beast, with few resources and no intent of doing so, which makes my feelings for you all the more profound. ”
“What are your feelings for me?” I say, my words scarcely a breath.
Killian blinks slowly. “Endless.”
We stare at each other for long, suspended moments.
I’m in a trance, captured by the force of his gaze, and the perceived sincerity behind his words.
After a while, he kisses my forehead and rolls to his back, but keeps an arm around me, holding me close.
He picks the file back up, and I scan a couple words out of curiosity.
My stomach drops when I realize it’s a compiled report on pregnancy. He had someone put together a detailed file on what to expect during every trimester, the do’s and don’ts, and everything to do to ensure a smooth-sailing pregnancy for mother and child.
How many men would do this for their pregnant partner? Proactively read up on everything there is to know?
“Surprised?” Killian queries mildly. “Being mine comes with some difficult stipulations, but there are many benefits. You and our baby will be my first priority—always. You will always be at the top of my considerations before I make any moves. I’m not a man who commits to anything easily, because I don’t half-ass commitments.
I take them very seriously. I will not be an easy husband—there will be many learning curves for both of us—but I promise you this: you will never be neglected or ignored.
There won’t be a moment that goes by where I’m not taking your desires and needs into account.
Anything you want, aside from being free of me, I’ll give you.
And I mean anything, Lyra. The heads of anyone who’s wronged you?
I’ll serve them to you on a silver platter.
Your books on every bestseller list? I’ll sink millions into marketing to make sure you top every headline in the publishing world.
A private island? I’ll have the deed to you immediately.
A vital organ? I’ll cut it out of my body and present it to you proudly. ”
My bottom lip trembles. My thoughts and emotions enter a tailspin going at a thousand miles an hour.
Killian is cruel, cold, and callous. This much I know to be true.
I also know that, at least right now, his words are true. He means every letter. He’ll give me whatever I need, go above and beyond for me.
And no matter how part of me aches to give in, to let him care for me, my logic won’t allow it. He has faults that make him unreliable.
He told me he’d release me after the eight weeks were done, and he changed his mind. That set a precedent I can’t ignore; he’ll go back on his word if it suits him.
My desires and the traitorous hope swelling in my neglected heart doesn’t change what I have to do to protect myself.
I have to finish the exposé.
And I have to find a way to not form an attachment to the creature Killian put in my belly.
He kisses my forehead. “Get ready. We’re going to the airport shortly.”
That makes me tense. “What time is it? What time is our flight?”
“It’s 4p.m., and our flight is scheduled at five.”
I sit up quickly. “Oh God, we’re going to miss—”
Killian’s taunting chuckle cuts me off. “I don’t rush to planes, Lyra. They wait for me.” He gazes into my eyes. “The world waits for us.”
Close to a day of travel later, I stare outside Killian’s plane as it taxis on a private airstrip near JFK. I’m tired, jetlagged, and more confused than I’ve ever been.
“The gala is in a couple of hours,” Killian says, setting down his phone and picking up my hand. He presses a kiss to my knuckles. “We’ll go together.”
I shake my head. “I need time to process.”
“There’s nothing to process.” His tone takes on a hard, indomitable edge. “We are getting married, and tonight, we’ll announce our relationship and engagement.”
“Killian, you don’t understand,” I say. “I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am. If you tell the world we’re engaged, that’ll undermine everything I’ve built. I’ll get fired for fraternizing on the job—”
“You’re above The Empire Journal,” Killian says, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t need your job there. You never need to work again, if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not about money. I love what I do—”
“You love writing more. You produced an excellent novel in under two months. Quit and work on writing more books—or stay at your job for a while longer. If anyone tries to fire you, I’ll have them fired instead.
Whatever you want, you get.” He slants me a devious smirk, but it falls off his lips when he sees my expression of abject horror.
His expression smooths over. “If you stay, however, you will move to part-time, and you will take at least eighteen months off after giving birth.”
My eyes flutter closed. Already, I can feel the bars around my cage closing in, cornering me.
I’ll finish the exposé, but in regards to the baby… second thoughts are already swarming my mind. Having Killian refer to it as a child rather than a cluster of cells has already managed to shift my perspective, and weaken my determination to end the pregnancy before it can truly take root.
My thoughts are muddled, my plans are confused—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or which way to turn. The urge to let Killian figure everything out for me is present, but not strong enough.
Yet.
I need space from him.
When I glance out the window and see the gathering mob of paparazzi, ready to welcome America’s favorite billionaire back from his travels abroad, I see a chance to escape.