Page 58 of Sinful Obsession
Impossible.
Considering it was impossible for Cassian and me to have been together while I was in the clutches of the man who held me captive for years, the thought alone should have offered some relief. Yet my memories remained a fog, fractured by trauma, lies, and time lost.
Still, I needed to confirm it—the test was the only way to be certain that Cassian was not the father of the life growing inside me.
Though fear prickled at the edges of my mind, one truth remained: this life was mine to protect, no matter the cost.
Now, I wandered the estate’s gardens, the late morning air heavy with the scent of jasmine and impending rain.
My jeans clung to my legs, the hair sample a quiet weight in my pocket.
I kept my steps casual, aware of the cameras hidden in the hedges, the walls, the very air.
Ethan had promised to call, to signal a way out, and I clung to that hope like a lifeline.
My belly, once flat, was starting to show, a subtle curve that made my heart race with both fear and fierce determination.
I didn’t know how far along I was—weeks, maybe months—but time was running out. Ethan needed to move faster.
A prickle of awareness made me pause.
Eyes on me, heavy.
I turned, scanning the garden, until my gaze lifted to the mansion’s highest floor.
There, in the window of his study, Cassian stood, his silhouette framed against the glass.
His stare pierced me, dark, stripping away my pretense of calm.
My chest tightened, dread coiling like a snake. I forced a smile, bending to pluck a flower, twirling it between my fingers as if I hadn’t a care in the world. But my heart pounded, a traitor to my act.
The sky darkened, heavy with the promise of rain.
I should’ve gone inside, but I lingered, pacing the garden paths, hoping Ethan’s call would come.
The first drops fell, cold and sharp, and I cursed my stubbornness as the rain turned to a downpour, soaking my clothes, chilling my bones.
I hurried toward the mansion, the cold biting deeper than it should, my teeth chattering as I reached the door.
Cassian was there, waiting in the foyer, his long black coat draped over his arm like he’d known I’d need it.
His eyes raked over me, taking in my drenched state, and something flickered in his expression—concern, maybe.
“Why the hell did you let the rain touch you?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle.
He stepped closer, draping the coat over my shoulders, its warmth and his scent enveloping me.
The cold sank into me, my teeth grinding, my body shivering uncontrollably.
The pregnancy made it worse, amplifying every sensation, and I felt vulnerable, exposed. “I didn’t expect it to pour so fast,” I mumbled, my voice shaky as I hugged the coat tighter.
Cassian’s gaze softened, but his jaw remained tight.
My back arched slightly, my feet barely moving, the pain in my chest a dull echo beneath the cold.
Without a word, he scooped me up, his arms strong and sure, carrying me up the grand staircase.
I was too tired to protest, too frozen to care about the embarrassment as he carried me into his bedroom and set me on the edge of the bed.
