Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“You can just tell them that Julianna was feeling unwell, so we’re retiring early. I have to take care of my wife,” I said.
His brows furrowed. “That will spread more gossip.”
I raked a hand through my hair and dug my fingers into the back of my neck, massaging the tensed muscles there. “What gossip now?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” my father growled.
Realization dawned on me a bit too late and I nodded. Right. Pregnancy rumors.
“Isn’t that even better then? What more proof do they need that Julianna and I are happily married than the news of a child? Let them gossip. It will keep them busy until we are ready to announce the good news.”
“And when will that be?” he questioned icily, crossing his arms over his chest.
For fuck’s sake.
“I know what I have to do, what is expected of me – Julianna and I both. When the time is right, it will happen. You’ll be the first to know,” I fumed, the words tasting acidic on my tongue, and I swallowed it down, feeling the way it burned my throat.
“A child is a blessing,” my father conferred.
I scoffed, but he glared and I wisely shut up. My father was practically on his deathbed and I had neither the energy nor the courage to argue with him.
He wanted to see his grandchild before he died and I’d grant him that – it didn’t matter how much it pained me to do so. The rage festered underneath my skin, feeding on my flesh and burrowing itself into my bones, the very marrow of who I am.
“This is not a job, Killian,” my father reprimanded and I arched an eyebrow in response. “A baby is the physical symbol of a couple’s love. It is to be treasured and pregnancy is a time that bonds the to-be parents. It’ll be an intimate nine months. You’ll have to care for her.”
Fucking Julianna was one thing.
Taking care of her was asking too much of me.
Anyway, Julianna and I had a deal.
“She has plenty of people ready to care and serve her. She doesn’t need me.”
My father made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “No. You have to care for her. Julianna doesn’t need you, but she will want you. There’s a very big difference between the two.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I shot back.
“Because I need you to realize that your job doesn’t end the moment Julianna becomes pregnant. Your real job as her husband and a father begins then.”
“Julianna and I made a deal–”
“I don’t care about your deal with Julianna.” He stabbed a finger into my chest. “You. Are. Married. You have responsibilities. You want to be the President of the United States? Well, guess what – figure out how to keep your marriage together first before you try to keep a whole goddamn country together. I don’t doubt for a second that you have all the characteristics a future leader needs and you’re capable of being someone big, someone with much power – but right now? You’re just a wounded man. Figure out your priorities, Killian. Before it’s too late.”
My father stomped away and I was left with a hollow chest, an aching heart, and his brutal words echoing in my ears.
He was right, though – every word he uttered rang with bitter truth.
Fists clenching at my sides, I stalked away – further into the shadows of the dark corridor.
Marrying Julianna was more than an arrangement between two families. It was my act of vengeance, but seven months into our marriage and I was starting to see a different version of my wife. I had expected a haughty heiress. I thought her atonement was only an act. So that people would pity her.
But instead, I found myself with a spitfire wife; a broken Julianna – who was deep in her own misery, her repentance ugly and messy. She suffered in silence and I watched her, gleefully.
Until her pain became my own – without me even realizing it.
How? I don’t know.
She maddened me.
She confused me.
Julianna was not the woman I imagined her to be.
And I was a lost sailor in a storm – my heart had been shipwrecked and I was drowning.
A long moment later, I found myself in the East wing, as if I was only a puppet being dragged by the strings of a puppet master. Right fucking here.
I shouldn’t have been here – not when I was in this state, yet I found myself at the doorstep of her bedroom. Unwillingly. Unconsciously. As if I had been called here by something invisible – intangible. I released a shuddering breath, feeling the way my heart thudded in my chest.
How goddamn ironic that the woman who was the cause of my dead heart was also behind my untold solace.