“We have every right, Sheldon. As long as you carry our name, you will act accordingly.”
The low, dangerous growl from the door stopped me from really letting her have it. “Well, maybe it’s time she stopped carrying your name.”
I sunk back into the pillows, wishing I could just disappear. I chewed on my lip in anguish, wondering how much he heard.
“And whose should she carry?” my mother scoffed. “Yours?”
“It would serve her right,” Keenan replied with a smirk.
What the hell did he mean by that?
“I don’t think so.” My mother watched him as if he were little more than a bug she would like to crush under her expensive pumps.
“It’s funny that you look at me as if I’m trash, but your daughter is the one to have a kid out of wedlock.”
Pain shot through my chest while my stomach twisted in knots at the demeaning way he spoke of me. I knew his comment was meant as much for me as it was for my mother.
“I’m almost sorry I missed your desperate attempt to salvage your royal ass of a name.”
My mom and Keenan had always been polite with each other in the past. I had even believed for a long time that they approved of him despite our rocky relationship. It wasn’t until I’d gotten pregnant and Keenan took off that they had been open about their dislike.
I needed to diffuse this situation and fast. “Keenan, stop. Mom—”
“You seem to be severely misinformed if you think you can look down on my daughter when it was you who got her in trouble.”
Oh, fuck.
Already, I could see the wheels turning in Keenan’s head as he pieced together exactly what my mom was saying.
“Mom, now is not the time. Keenan, there is something I have to tell you, but it can’t be now. Not here.”
“Come again?” Keenan demanded, ignoring my plea.
“Kennedy is three years old. Do the math.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KEENAN
“SHE’S ONLY THREE,” the troll emphasized as if I were a moron. In a way, I guess I was if I didn’t figure it out from the start. If Melissa’s attempt was to knock me on my ass, she succeeded.
Three.
Three years.
Three fucking years old.
I wouldn’t even insult my intelligence by doing the math.
Kennedy was mine.
Mine.
And this bitch had hidden her from me.
I knew I was the one to run away, but I didn’t need to question if Sheldon would have ever told me. I could tell by the glances she was casting, the nervous stutter, and her pale complexion.
She didn’t want me to know.
Did I even want to know?
When I agreed to return home, I planned for it to only be temporary. I would have done anything not to ever see Sheldon and had every intention of slipping away the first chance I got and disappearing for another four years.
I never expected to return home to face her as the mother of my child. My missing child.
Two men filed in the room while I was struggling to find the words to unfuck this fucked up situation.
This time it was two detectives from the FBI who were here to question Sheldon. I wondered if they might have found something if they were back this soon.
I listened carefully while Sheldon went over details with the detectives, but the rigidness of her spine told me she was very much aware of me. Even now, she watched me from the corner of her eye.
To fuck with her, I moved closer to the bed and let my hand drift down to grip the railing. Her small gasp was barely audible, but I caught it. I reveled in the idea of making her uncomfortable. Involuntarily, I envisioned restraining her to the rails and making her beg for forgiveness and mercy. When my cock twitched, I mentally scolded myself. Now was not the time, but soon it would be. It was the only promise, other than finding the daughter I never got to know.
I had warned her, and now I could make good on the promise I made four years ago. I didn’t realize until this moment that it was exactly what I had wanted. I just needed the perfect alibi.
“She’s mine?” I told myself I would wait until I caught her alone, but it flew out of the window along with my restraint.
I didn’t realize she was crying until her head whipped around. Her amber eyes were filled with pain and fear, and for the first time, I felt remorse.
And I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
I didn’t give myself time to think or rationalize. I gripped the back of her neck to keep her from escaping, and right there in front of the detectives, I licked her tears, starting from the corner of her lip. I repeated my torture on the other side of her face and enjoyed her gasp of breath and the desperate way she gripped my arms.
Was it to keep me close for more or to push me away?
It didn’t really matter because, from this moment forward, she would be mine to do with how I pleased.
“Keenan—”