Page 54 of Cruel Juliet

I keep my face calm. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. “I’m his wife,” I say evenly. “And I’m pregnant with his child. Where else would I be?”

Her mouth twists. She doesn’t like the reminder that right now, despite everything, I hold more power than she does in her own house.

Her gaze drifts over me, down to my stomach, then back up to my face. I see the judgment in her eyes, the calculation. She steps closer, folding her arms. “Don’t mistake circumstance for power. Without an heir, Petyr may not hold onto his place. Not with Dimitri awake. What use will you be to him then?”

I never thought about Dimitri’s awakening that way. But Kira’s right—he’s the firstborn. Not Petyr. Once her husband is back in power, mine will have to step aside for him.

What will that mean for us?

My stomach knots, but I don’t show it. I lift my chin instead. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I know how this world works,” she brags. “Men like him need leverage. Women like us provide it. But only as long as we serve a purpose.”

“So that’s what you think I am to him? A purpose?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “What else? He doesn’t forgive. He sure as fuck doesn’t forget. You think he’ll treat you differently because you let him back between your legs?”

That’s what finally makes me snap.

She can torture me emotionally. She can try to shake me all she likes.

But I won’t let her turn our love into something ugly. Not when it gave me the baby I’m carrying.

“I’m not just someone he fucked once and discarded, Kira.” I stand up. The kiddie gloves are off, and I’m fucking pissed. “I’m his wife. I carry his daughter. That doesn’t vanish because you want it to.”

She stiffens. “You think being his wife protects you? It didn’t protect you before. It won’t protect you when Dimitri is strong enough to walk back into his place. Don’t fool yourself.”

“If you think you can scare me into shrinking back, it won’t work.” For once, my voice is calmer than hers. “I’ve lived under worse threats than your petty, mean girl jabs.”

“You have no clue?—”

“No, you don’t.” I come inches from her face. “I lived on the streets, Barbie. You have no fucking clue what it’s like in the real world. And unless you get out of my sight real fast, you’re about to find out the ugly way.”

For a long moment, Kira doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. But the tension between us is thick. I can see how white her face has gone, how thin the press of her lips is now.

I’m not a sheltered little girl. I’ll cut a bitch if I need to, and right now, she’s first in the fucking line.

Finally, she takes a step back. “Eat while it’s hot. You never know when the meals will stop coming.”

Threat of starvation. How classy.

I don’t thank her for bringing the tray. She doesn’t wait for me to. Just turns on her heel and walks out.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My hands shake under the blanket, but I don’t let myself fall apart. Not now. I won’t let someone like Kira break me.

“Fucking viper,” I mutter under my breath.

I drag the tray closer and eat. The food is good, better than I expected after the way she slammed it down, but my appetite is half-gone from the tension. Still, I finish most of it. No sense letting her win by starving myself.

Besides, my baby needs to eat. No matter how sick I feel, I won’t take from her. Not when she’s so healthy and perfect and close to her birth.

Later, I curl up on the bed with my e-reader. The blanket is pulled around me, the light dim, the house quiet. I almost manage to lose myself in the story.

Then the cramps start.

I drop the e-reader and press both hands to my stomach.

It hurts.