Page 114 of Reckoning

“I was naïve, fucking stupid.” She admits. “I wanted to help and this felt like the only way. Everyone else was risking their lives, I could hardly expect to stay in my nice ivory tower…”

I shake my head, tightening my grip. “You have nothing to prove.”

“It felt like I did. My entire life I’ve never been good enough, never been worthy enough. It felt like if I did this then maybe it might absolve some of my sins. Three women died because of me. Me.”

“You were a child.” I state. “You weren’t responsible. And whatever your father made you believe, you are enough.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Not for a Montague. I can’t carry on our line. As far as he was concerned I should have been locked away, hidden away. It was shameful for someone of his great lineage to have such flawed genes.”

“Do you want children?” I ask her.

She gulps, shaking her head, stumbling over her words. “No. I, I never wanted, I’ve never, even if I could, I wouldn’t want to be a mother, it’s just not me.”

“And does it affect you in any other way?”

Again, she shakes her head. “No, apart from that, I’m fine. Healthy.”

“Then fuck what he said.” I growl. “Your father was a piece of shit and he was lucky he managed to die quietly in his bed.”

She gives me a crooked smile. “He had heart failure.” She replies. “He wanted a transplant, paid Darius for it and everything, only they kept putting the surgery back. Turns out Darius didn’t want him to live either.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, thank fuck another person wasn’t murdered for Horace Fucking Montague.

As I drop my gaze I realise we’re still naked, still in bed, that the turn of conversation has distracted me from taking care of her.

I get up, leave her there, and go to pour a bath.

When I come back in she’s watching me warily, like her confessions might make me change my mind. That they might alter how I view her, how I feel about her.

“Come on, Little Devil,” I say, holding out my hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sofia

Iblink back at him, wondering if I misheard him. Cleaned up?

As I glance down at myself I know I’m not dirty. But then, he fucked me last night didn’t he, and after what we did earlier, maybe I do need a shower.

He scoops me up into his arms and carries me into the bathroom – and that action alone seems to make my brain short circuit. When I told him the truth, when I confessed my dark, dirty, little secret I expected him to throw me out, to kick me out. Especially considering what happened to his sister.

For a second I’d feared that her womb had been put inside me, but the timings don’t work. Thank fuck the timings don’t. If she’d died for me, if I’d been responsible, I know that would have sealed my fate – and rightly so.

And yet still, he’s acting like he still wants this, still wants me. I’ll admit my head is doing somersaults trying to figure out why.

He sees my face and smirks. “You had your fun in there.” He says. “This is part of mine.”

My eyes widen. What the fuck does that mean? He’s put bubbles in the water, steams already filling the room. It feels like I’ve just fallen asleep and woken up in a spa.

“This is called after-care.” Koen says bending over, placing me so gently into the water, “This is as important as ensuring you enjoy yourself while we play.”

“Why?” I reply. It’s not like he’s bathed me before. But he did shower me, didn’t he? When I was too tired from my orgasm to protest.

Koen picks up a sponge and he pours some fancy smelling body cream onto it, squeezing it to lather it up. “Arms.” He orders.

“Excuse me?”

“Trust me, Sofia.” He replies fixing me with that no nonsense look of his. “Let me take care of you my way.”

I don’t even know why I’m protesting. Koen wants to scrub me down? He wants to wash me clean? Fine, I’m too shocked to put up any sort of fight.