Page 19 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

CHARLOTTE

A week had passed and Cassian hadn’t spoken of punishment. Not a word, not a glance that carried the threat he’d promised.

His silence was louder than any threat, a storm brewing behind those dark, unreadable eyes. And me? I hadn’t tried to leave.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because Ethan, my only lifeline, hadn’t given me a clear path out.

Every call to him went unanswered, followed by cryptic texts: Working on it. Don’t alert Cassian.

As if I’d be foolish enough to tip off the man who held my life in his hands.

Cassian was changing, though, in ways that unsettled me.

He no longer barked orders or loomed with menace.

Yesterday, I caught him watching me as I read in the library, his gaze not cold but burning—obsessed, hungry, like I was a puzzle he’d kill to solve.

And last night, when he carried me to bed after I’d fallen asleep on the couch, his hands lingered, gentle but possessive, tucking the blanket around me with a care that felt too intimate for the distance between us.

Yet the chasm remained, a silent wall of secrets.

Last night, while he slept beside me, his breaths deep and even, I did something reckless.

I reached out, my fingers trembling, and plucked a strand of his dark hair from the pillow. I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans, a secret for the DNA test I’d run once I was free.

It made no sense—Cassian as the father of my child?

Impossible.

Considering it was impossible for Cassian and me to have been together while I was in the clutches of the man who held me captive for years, the thought alone should have offered some relief. Yet my memories remained a fog, fractured by trauma, lies, and time lost.

Still, I needed to confirm it—the test was the only way to be certain that Cassian was not the father of the life growing inside me.

Though fear prickled at the edges of my mind, one truth remained: this life was mine to protect, no matter the cost.

Now, I wandered the estate’s gardens, the late morning air heavy with the scent of jasmine and impending rain.

My jeans clung to my legs, the hair sample a quiet weight in my pocket.

I kept my steps casual, aware of the cameras hidden in the hedges, the walls, the very air.

Ethan had promised to call, to signal a way out, and I clung to that hope like a lifeline.

My belly, once flat, was starting to show, a subtle curve that made my heart race with both fear and fierce determination.

I didn’t know how far along I was—weeks, maybe months—but time was running out. Ethan needed to move faster.

A prickle of awareness made me pause.

Eyes on me, heavy.

I turned, scanning the garden, until my gaze lifted to the mansion’s highest floor.

There, in the window of his study, Cassian stood, his silhouette framed against the glass.

His stare pierced me, dark, stripping away my pretense of calm.

My chest tightened, dread coiling like a snake. I forced a smile, bending to pluck a flower, twirling it between my fingers as if I hadn’t a care in the world. But my heart pounded, a traitor to my act.

The sky darkened, heavy with the promise of rain.

I should’ve gone inside, but I lingered, pacing the garden paths, hoping Ethan’s call would come.

The first drops fell, cold and sharp, and I cursed my stubbornness as the rain turned to a downpour, soaking my clothes, chilling my bones.

I hurried toward the mansion, the cold biting deeper than it should, my teeth chattering as I reached the door.

Cassian was there, waiting in the foyer, his long black coat draped over his arm like he’d known I’d need it.

His eyes raked over me, taking in my drenched state, and something flickered in his expression—concern, maybe.

“Why the hell did you let the rain touch you?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle.

He stepped closer, draping the coat over my shoulders, its warmth and his scent enveloping me.

The cold sank into me, my teeth grinding, my body shivering uncontrollably.

The pregnancy made it worse, amplifying every sensation, and I felt vulnerable, exposed. “I didn’t expect it to pour so fast,” I mumbled, my voice shaky as I hugged the coat tighter.

Cassian’s gaze softened, but his jaw remained tight.

My back arched slightly, my feet barely moving, the pain in my chest a dull echo beneath the cold.

Without a word, he scooped me up, his arms strong and sure, carrying me up the grand staircase.

I was too tired to protest, too frozen to care about the embarrassment as he carried me into his bedroom and set me on the edge of the bed.

His hands moved with deliberate care, peeling off my soaked shirt, my jeans, my padded bra, and finally my panties.

My cheeks burned as his fingers brushed my skin, clinical yet intimate.

I shivered, not just from the cold but from the weight of his touch, the way his eyes lingered on my bare skin—not with lust, but with something deeper, something that made my heart stutter.

He tossed the wet clothes into a corner, grabbed a thick duvet from the bed, and wrapped it around me, tucking it tightly as if to shield me from the world.

Then he shed his own shirt, revealing the scarred expanse of his chest, and slid under the duvet beside me, his body a furnace against my chilled skin.

“Will this keep you warm, or should I run a bath?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, though still edged with that cold Moretti steel.

“No, you’ve done enough. Thank you,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze, my voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of hurt flashing across his face. “Enough? Charlotte... what does that even mean?” His voice cracked, exposing the man beneath the monster. “Do you really think I’d let you freeze? That I’d let anyone—or anything—hurt you?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I just... I don’t know what you want from me, Cassian. You’ve kept me here, against my will, with your punishment always hanging over me.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You speak of being kidnapped—it’s convenient. But do you even realize I risked my life to pull you out of that fire? Twice now. Do you know what it means to ignore my own limits, to fight through danger just to make sure you live?”

He move closer, his voice sharp, threaded with possessiveness. “Be grateful, Charlotte. This... protecting you from everyone who wants to tear you apart... it’s the least I can do. And yet you act like it’s not enough.”

I swallowed again, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Thank you... for saving me, Cassian. But I still feel like a prisoner. Please... let me go.”

His hand shot up, grazing my cheek.

I flinched, expecting a trap—but his touch was impossibly gentle, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. His eyes bore into mine, dark, stormy, and impossible to ignore.

“Letting you go...” he murmured, voice rough, raw with an emotion I couldn’t place.

“Feels like losing something I can’t even name.

” He leaned closer, every word dripping with possession.

“Stop seeing yourself as a prisoner, Charlotte. You’re not.

You’re mine. My wife. Whether you want it or not, you’re. .. everything.”

The words hit me like a punch, stealing my breath.

My chest felt tight, as if each inhale was a battle.

I wanted to believe him, to trust the warmth—and something more—in his eyes, but the distance between us stretched like a chasm too wide to cross.

Exhaustion clawed at me, dragging my body toward sleep, but my mind refused to obey. Flashes of memory surged unbidden: being thrown into that freezing, endless sea, thrashing and gasping for air, my limbs burning with cold and panic.

My heart raced, anxiety coiling around my chest like a serpent.

What if he found the hair in my pocket?

What if he discovered the baby, the truth I wasn’t ready to face?

I curled into the duvet, clutching it to my chest as if it could shield me from the storm inside.

Sleep was supposed to heal, to soothe, but tonight it was a luxury I could not afford. Tonight, fear and desire warred within me, and I had nowhere to hide—not from him, and not from myself.

Cassian shifted, sliding closer, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Come here,” he said, his voice a command wrapped in velvet.

I stiffened, defiance flaring, but he pulled me against his chest, his strength unyielding. “Stop fighting me, Charlotte. Just for tonight.”

I wanted to push him away, to scream that I didn’t trust him, but his warmth seeped into me, calming the storm in my mind.

My cheek pressed against his chest, the steady thud of his heart grounding me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt... safe.

Not entirely, not enough to tell him about the life growing inside me, but enough to wonder if he’d spare me if he knew.

Could a man like Cassian, forged in blood and betrayal, have a heart soft enough to care?

I wanted to believe it, wanted to trust him, but fear kept the truth locked inside me.

Exhausted, I let his warmth pull me under, and sleep claimed me at last.

When I woke, the bed was empty, the duvet still tucked around my naked body.

Cassian was gone, his absence a cold void.

I didn’t bother dressing before stumbling to the library, my bare feet silent on the marble floor.

My burner phone blinked with three missed calls from Ethan.

My heart leaped—had he found a way out?

I dialed, and he answered on the first ring. “Ethan, any update?” My voice was breathless, urgent.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone clipped but excited. “There’s a river north of Cassian’s estate, through the woods. It’s two kilometers, a tough trek, especially in your condition. I doubt you can make it without tiring or Cassian catching you.”

“I’m not that weak,” I snapped, though my hand rested on my belly, the slight bump a reminder of my limits. “Is that the only way?”