Page 23 of Keeper

The sadness in his eyes reaches a depth I haven’t seen for a long time. It’s his way of telling me, however silently, that I’m missing the point. It’s not that our gorgeous little gardener doesn’t want him fucking me. It’s that she doesn’t want me carrying his child at all.

So we’re doomed then, him and I. And I don’t even have it in me to argue with him anymore. I’d kill for that kind of love, that level of devotion. She’s a lucky woman, and he’s the unluckiest man I’ve ever met.

“We’ll figure something out,” he offers softly. “I just need time, okay? Please.”

Time isn’t something we have. He knows it, I know it, Ephraim knows it. But what else can I do? I’m just a pawn, and pawns go where they’re bid.

“Okay. Pour me another glass of wine so it’ll seem like I was in here long enough to actually do something, I’ll mess up my hair, splash some water on my face, and go back to bed. They won’t buy it for long, but they’ll buy it for now. You want time, Alexander?”

“Yes.”

“Then use it fucking wisely.”

FEBRUARY

Nine

Knock. 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.

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