Page 93 of Thorns of Deceit

Stretching out, I scanned the room while the blinding morning light poured through the French windows.

I glanced at the grandfather clock and gasped.

“Jesus, I slept most of the day away,” I whispered, flabbergasted.

I jerked into an upright position, looking around furiously.

“Aiden?” I called out, noticing the slight soreness in my lower back as I stood. The blanket slipped off me, landing on the ground in a puddle of cashmere.

“Aiden,” I tried again, my stomach tightening with uncertainty.

No response.

I padded through the living room, looking in every corner, then moved on to the kitchen. I tried the office, then one of the spare rooms, before ending up in Aiden’s bedroom.

There was no trace of him. I was alone.

Heaviness flooded me, but I ignored it as I continued toward the front door, a chill, possibly anxiety, whispering across my skin. I pulled at the neckline of Aiden’s oversized T-shirt, finding comfort in its leathery scent. It smelled like him.

I reached the front door and attempted to yank it open but was met with resistance.

I noticed a console table and rummaged through the drawer and basket on top, but a key was nowhere to be found.

He must have locked me in from the outside.

Prick.

I paced a little, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He’d whispered things in my ear and touched me and even gone out of his way to do a grand fucking gesture, only to leave me. What the hell?

A part of me screamed I should be grateful, but the other felt kind of… disappointed. Jesus, what was it with me?

Some time alone could be exactly what I needed to clear my head.

I should find a way to get back to my apartment.

I couldn’t stay and betray my mother’s final wishes. It was the least I owed to her and her memory. She’d sacrificedeverythingfor me. I had made such a mess of things. My mom would be disappointed in me on so many levels.

The walls felt like they were closing in, pressing against possibilities I wasn’t ready to face: the pregnancy test.

It still sat back in my apartment, unread and waiting silently… yet louder than any scream. My stomach twisted with anxiety and something close to dread. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to bring a child into the wreckage of my life. An innocent didn’t deserve to be born into this chaos. My mom and I were the perfect example of why it was a bad idea.

Then, that cruel little voice in my head whispered,Then why didn’t you use protection last night?

I flinched.

I didn’t have an answer.

Maybe part of me had been reckless. Maybe part of me had been clinging to something dangerous and comforting. My husband. Maybe his strength and power could somehow shield me from the consequences. He was a better man than my father.

Dammit, now I was engulfed in confusion, a tangled knot of guilt, fear, and something I was terrified to name.

I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach while my mind whirled around like a tornado. The chances of already being pregnant were slim to none. They had to be. I had bigger problems to tackle, namely the evidence of my best friends’ and my direct implication in Angelo Leone’s death.

“If that video of my friends and me dismembering Angelo Leone comes out, we’ll need all the protection,” I murmured, although I would do everything in my power to ensure that video never came out. The world couldn’t find out what we did. I needed a plan, but I worried that whatever path I chose, someone would get hurt.

I made my way back into his office, hoping to find a laptop or computer that would allow me to track down the file and get rid of it. It was a lame plan, but it was all I had.