“I just do,” I say simply. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I know you think I’ve lost my mind. But Dad—” My voice cracks and I have to stop and breathe through the tightness in my chest. “I love him. And I’m having his baby. And I need you to—I need?—”
What do I need? For him to accept this? To give us his blessing? To walk away and let me have this life I’ve chosen?
All of it. None of it. Something in between.
“I know,” I say quietly, and I can feel Leo’s hand tightening on my waist, anchoring me. “I know it’s fucked up, Dad. I know it makes no sense. I know you think I’ve lost my mind or that Leo’s brainwashed me or whatever else you want to call it to make yourself feel better about losing control of me.”
My father flinches like I’ve slapped him.
“But it’s not about control,” I continue, softer now. “It’s not about you or Leo or who has power over who. It’s aboutmeand whatIwant. About the life I’m choosing to live.”
I take a shaky breath.
“And I’m choosing this. I’m choosing Leo and this baby. I know you don’t understand it. I know you hate it. I know you wish things were different.”
My voice breaks completely and tears are streaming down my face now, hot and fast and impossible to stop.
“I know you wish I’d come home with you and forget this ever happened and go back to being your little girl who does what she’s told. But Ican’t, Dad. I can’t be that person anymore. I don’twantto be that person anymore.”
I press harder against Leo, drawing strength from him. His arms tighten around me.
“This is my insanity,” I tell him, and the words feel like they’re coming from somewhere deep inside me, the part of me that still loves my father desperately and craves his approval and wants to make him proud. “Let me have it, Dad.Please.”
23
LEO
Emma is pregnant.
The thought keeps circling through my mind, over and over, like a song stuck on repeat. It’s the only thought my brain is capable of producing right now.
Emma is pregnant. With my baby. We’re having ababy.
I can’t process it. I can’t make it feel real even though she’s standing right here in my arms, even though I heard her say the words, even though my hand is resting on her stomach where our child is growing right now. Right this second. A tiny baby that’s half me and half her.
Emma ispregnant.
Holy shit.
We’re still standing in the main hall, surrounded by bodies and blood and the wreckage of Connor’s assault. My men are in the doorways, weapons raised, waiting for orders. Connor’s remaining men are doing the same. The air is thick with tension and the copper smell of death.
But all I can think about is the fact that Emma is pregnant with my baby.
I think back to all the times we’ve had sex. That first time in my office when I fucked her on my desk. I wasn’t thinking about consequences. I only thought about my need and rage and the desire to claim her.
I didn’t even think about protection. I didn’t even think to ask her if she was on the pill. I should have made sure we were being careful.
I didn’t.
Every time since then. In my bed when she wakes up pressed against me and we can’t keep our hands off each other. In the shower when the water’s running and her skin is slick with soap. Against the wall of the library because we couldn’t make it to the bedroom. On the library floor surrounded by books because I needed her right then and couldn’t wait.
Not once—not fucking once—did I ask if she was on birth control. Not once did I use protection. Not once did I even think about the possibility that we might be making a baby.
What kind of idiot doesn’t ask that question? What kind of reckless, stupid, irresponsible bastard just assumes everything is fine and keeps having unprotected sex with a woman he kidnapped?
Me. I’m that idiot.
I should be furious at my own stupidity. I also should be panicking about how we’re going to handle this. How am I going to keep Emma and a baby safe in my world? How can I be a father when I barely know how to be a decent human being?