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“Yes, if I allow it.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Damian.” Her voice is gentle. “You don’t really think you’re going to keep me forever, do you? Guarding me like you do now?” She shakes her head. “It’s not sustainable. You have to let me make my own decisions. You have to let me choose you.”

Choose me. The thought of leaving such a thing to chance is like a knife in my heart.

I could never risk it.

“That’s none of your concern,” I clip out.

“It is, though.” Her fingers idly trace a ring of condensation left by her glass. “Would you really want me to stay if I don’t want to be with you?”

“Yes,” I say immediately.

She studies me for a long time, the overhead light making her gray eyes sparkle. “I don’t think so. You have too much pride for that.”

My nails dig into my palms. “You assume I see the world the way you do. I don’t. Your pride is rooted in believing you’re good. Mine’s in what I can take. What I can keep.”

Her lips part slightly. “Oh. So you really mean it when you call me your little doll?”

Something in my chest twists. The way she says it… It’s not anger in her voice. Not fear. Just quiet realization.

But it’s not true anymore, is it?

I don’t want her against her will.

I want her to come to me. To crawl into my bed at night and wrap herself around me because she craves my warmth. To look at me with love and acceptance.

Yes, acceptance.

What a small, pathetic thing to crave—and yet, without it, how can I ever be sure of her love? I don’t just want her submission. I want her to see me clearly…and stay.

But she never will. Not as she is. She’s too rigid. Too moral. She’d rather walk away than make peace with what I’ve done.

Unless…

A thought takes root. What if she had a reason? A reason so compelling it drowned out her judgment. What if she really, truly needed me?

Ava reaches her hand out across the table, slips her fingers over mine, curling them around my hand. “I’m a person.” Hersmile is sad—almost pitying. “I shouldn’t have to say that to you, Damian. You’re not stupid. You know that you can’t take and keep a person.”

No. But you can manipulate a person, and God help me, I’m going to do it.

I’m going to get Ava pregnant.

36

Ava

Sienna gasps, holding up a pair of heels covered in tiny pearls. “Ava. Ava. Do you know how much these cost?”

I shake my head as I place a silk dress back on the hanger. “No clue.”

We got back from our trip a few weeks ago, and Damian is visiting the Sacred Light today. The thought sits heavily in my chest, like a stone pressed just beneath my ribs. He didn’t say much when he left—only kissed my forehead and told me not to worry. But I am worried. I can’t help it.

He behaves as if the world will bend to his will if he pushes hard enough. But I remember what he said about powerful men—that they’re bad at poker because they don’t think odds apply to them. I’ll bet he doesn’t even consider the fact that this is also true about him. He’s not as powerful as he thinks he is.

My heart tightens, and the fear crawling up my spine isn’t even for myself.

It’s for him. I care for him deeply. I think I might even?—