I pull away from Keira, angry at my lack of control and resenting her for making me question what, for a moment, was perfect.
"I should go," I mutter, reaching for my clothes scattered across the floor.
She doesn't stop me, doesn't say anything at all. It reinforces the idea that she just did this to appease me. Why would she do that? She fights me on so many things, and yet gives total compliance. Why? Is it to keep me happy as she plots something? Is it to protect someone?
Fucking hell, that must be it. There’s no doubt she's hiding something. I've spent too many years reading people not to recognize the signs. All I can think of is the other man.
"You're mine now, Keira, whether you like it or not. Tell your lover it's over."
Her eyes flash with something between hurt and fury as she pulls the sheet tighter around herself.
"Message received, loud and clear," Keira says, her voice cutting through the lingering intimacy between us. "I'm being exactly what you wanted. The dutiful fiancée. Isn't that what this is all about? Making sure I know my place?"
Her words gut me. I feel like I opened a vein for her, but she sees what just happened as my claiming ownership of her. Of her submitting to me. Performing a wifely obligation.
"That's not—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"No need to explain. I understand perfectly." Her smile is brittle, practiced. "This is just another part of our arrangement.”
Fuck. I know my part in this, but it doesn’t stop the resentment from growing. “I don’t need pity fucks, Keira. And this doesn't change anything," I say harshly. "We still have arrangements to finalize."
She nods once, her face a careful mask. "Of course."
The ease with which she accepts this makes me wonder if I've been played. Was this her strategy all along? Give in to me to gain leverage? The thought sours everything we just shared.
I leave without another word, closing the door firmly behind me. I need space to think, to process what just happened and what it means. I head down to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, leaning against the counter.
What the hell am I doing? One moment, I'm plotting her humiliation and the next, I'm groveling, wanting what we lost and then fucking her. For ten years I’ve been focused and methodical. Nothing has derailed me. But Keira… She confuses me emotionally and psychologically. I’m not in charge of this game we’re playing anymore.
The sound of small feet padding across tile breaks my reverie. I look up to find Brigit standing in the doorway, her hair mussed from sleep, eyes wide at finding me here.
"I'm hungry," she announces simply, as if my presence in the kitchen at this hour is perfectly normal.
"I can make you something," I offer, surprising myself. I’ve never been around kids. Hell, only just an hour ago, I realized I might want one.
Brigit tilts her head, studying me with that unnerving directness she possesses. "You know how to cook?"
"I do." I open the refrigerator, scanning its contents. "How about a grilled cheese?"
She climbs onto a stool at the counter, nodding eagerly. "With tomato soup?"
The request hits me with unexpected force. Tomato soup and grilled cheese was something I used to make for my brothers in those first terrible months after our parents died. Quick, simple comfort food I could manage while juggling grief and sudden responsibility.
“It’s late. Didn’t you have dinner?” It occurs to me that I don’t know what she does all day. She doesn’t go to school because no one comes or goes without my knowing. Does her nanny educate her? Where does she eat?
“Yeah, but I’m a growing kid.”
My lips twitch upward. "Coming right up."
I move around the kitchen, finding bread, butter, cheese. The motions are soothing, grounding me after the emotional whirlwind upstairs. I open a can of soup, pour it into a pot, adjust the heat.
"You're not as scary when you're cooking," Brigit observes, swinging her legs.
I glance at her, surprised by her frankness. "Am I scary other times?"
"Sometimes." She watches me butter the bread. "Especially when you look at Keira. Your eyes get all crazy."
My hands pause momentarily. "It's… complicated between us."
