Page 44 of Cinderella and the Daddy

He stares at me. I can practically see him cataloging every tell, every inconsistency in my story.

"You screamed," he says flatly.

"It hurt." I shrug, trying for casual. "You know how it is when you hit your funny bone."

He doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens. But instead of pressing, he steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my jaw. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, wiping away a tear.

“You’re lying,dikaya.”

He drops his hand and leaves the bathroom.

I wait a minute before I move the tests to the back of the drawer behind the makeup, boxes of toothpaste, and a couple of washcloths. I don’t dare put them in the trash. I’ll have to sneak them out later.

At dinner, Leo chatters endlessly about his day.

Without warning, he climbs into my lap. It's something he's been doing more often lately—seeking physical comfort in a way that breaks my heart and terrifies me in equal measure.

Leo's head rests against my shoulder as he picks at his dinner. I find myself placing my hand on his back to keep him from falling. Across the table, Luka watches us with an expression I can't quite read.

There's something in his gaze that makes my breath catch.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different. If I weren't here against my will. If he weren't a dangerous man. If we were just... normal. A family.

The fantasy is so vivid it hurts.

"Cindy?" Leo's voice breaks through my daydream. "Are you okay? You look sad."

I force a smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Just thinking, sweetheart. Nothing important."

But when I look up, Luka's still watching me.

Later, after Leo's been tucked into bed and the compound has settled into its nighttime routine, I find myself back in Luka's bedroom.

It was so natural. After saying goodnight to Leo, he silently took my hand and led me to his bedroom.

I didn’t question it. Didn’t hesitate.

There’s something different about him tonight. He hasn’t said a word to me, but I don’t need him to.

I get it.

We're attracted to one another.

I lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, hyperaware of his breathing beside me. He sleeps like a predator—never fully relaxed, always ready to wake at the first sign of danger. But tonight there's something different about the way he settles next to me.

His arm is around my waist, pulling me closer. His hand rests on my stomach. Just sits there, heavy and warm, fingers splayed across my naked skin.

I freeze, certain he knows. Certain he can somehow sense the life growing beneath his palm. It's just a coincidence.

Still, I can't help but think about that hand that doles out death.

"I'll protect you," I whisper into the darkness, the words so quiet they're barely breath. "Whatever happens, whatever I have to do, I'll protect you."

He doesn't stir, doesn't give any sign that he's heard me. But his hand tightens slightly against my stomach, and for a moment, I let myself believe that somewhere in his subconscious, he understands.

I close my eyes and try to sleep, one hand moving to cover his, both of us cradling the secret that will change everything.

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