My stomach flips over, but I manage to keep my expression clear. “I’m fine, thank you. I just picked up shampoo—the one you got me has been irritating my scalp.”
Killian sets down his spoon and turns to gaze at me fully. The weight of his stare is too much to bear; I don’t dare look up from my plate to meet it.
“Lyra,” he says slowly. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
He can’t know. He can’t know. He can’t—
I force myself to look up and meet his eyes. If I cower, it’ll make him suspicious. He’s just testing me because I went out on my own—that’s all.
“Not as far as I’m aware,” I hedge.
He tilts his head tothe side. “Are you certain?”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Fear makes my stomach drop, and churns the four-course dinner I just ate.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Killian braces his elbows on the table. “Are you going to ask me about my day?”
I swallow. “How was your day?”
“Quite frustrating at first, though it improved in the evening,” he says. “Would you like to know why?”
No.“Of course. Hearing about your daily life is what gets me out of bed in the morning,” I snark.
He smiles. “Well, a few things. One of them is regarding your book.”
I blink, confused.My book? “What about it?” Defensiveness rises up inside me. “I finished it, as you requested. Sent it to you, as requested. That project is done, and you can’t punish me for any wrongdoings, because I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“The project is far from done, though you’re right that you haven’t rebelled and earned my wrath. I sent your book to a contact of mine who works in publishing. She’s an acquisitions editor at one of the big five. I simply wanted her opinion on your work… and she loved it.” His lips stretch into a smile. “She anticipates that it’ll sell for quite a lot of money.”
I blink, taken aback. He did…what?He sentmybook to aneditorat apublishing house?That’s a favor I did not ask for, and am loathe to pay for, but it’s also almost… kind. Killian has never minced words in regards to my novel, but he’s not unnecessarily cruel, either, and I care about his opinion more than I should. Apparently, he thought highly enough of my book to send it up the foodchain.
“You’ll need to acquire a literary agent, but she made a few suggestions,” Killian says. “She was very enthusiastic, Lyra.” His lips stretch into a smile. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
Excitement rises in my chest, making my limbs tingle and fingers itch with the need to get back to a keyboard.
I’m so happy—albeit cautiously so—that I don’t even call Killian on the odd term of endearment.
“What’s the name of your contact?” I ask. “Who does she work for?”
“Aisha Row,” he responds, then says the name of a publishing house that makes my eyes bulge. It’s one of the big five, and more, it’s known for giving outmassiveadvances to select debut authors.
“I… don’t know what to say,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That wasn’t the only pleasant surprise I got today.” Killian reaches into his inner jacket pocket, and my stomach flips again, sending a violent wave of nausea over my body.
What he pulls out makes my heart skip three beats.
It’s a pregnancy test. One of the ones I took earlier. He slides it across the table to me, nestling it right by my plate. I nearly choke on my next breath.
He knows.He knows. He knows, and he’s not saying anything—just staring at me unblinkingly. I don’t have the strength to meet his eyes. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of me.
Silence descends over us, tense and clawing, like the charge in the air before a lightning storm.
“When were you planning on telling me about this?” he asks, his voice perversely calm and composed.
My hands tremble from fear. I fold them on my lap. “Never. I’ll take care of it as soon as we get back to the states. I already have anappointment—”