Page 101 of The Merciless King

I love you.

I’ve never said those words to a woman before. When I do—the day I say those words—will be to the woman I intend to marry.

Not to someone I’m about to betray.

In a few hours, I’ll be heading to the location her family keeps young women as slaves.

The haunting question inside my head is whether Gianna fucking knows about this. I may not voice them, but I feel it in my chest when I imagine her as the mother of my children, as I fill her with my cock. As I run my eyes across every achingly beautiful inch of her body.

Does she know what her father does?

I need to know if she is complicit.

And I need to know who the real Gianna is and who I’m falling in love with.

Goddamn it.

I shut off the shower and grab a towel. Then brush my teeth, rub the towel over my dark hair and walk back into the bedroom. Gianna is sitting up against the headboard, the room dim from the curtains still being shut, and watching me.

“Good morning,” I rasp.

“Hey.” She smiles, but there’s a sadness to her. “Do you want to go out for lunch?”

“Sure. I will just check with your father and check the timing of our plans.” I didn’t tell her any details yesterday. Only that I would be heading out with her father’s men to do business.

She nods.

I study her reaction.

Does she fucking know?

I sit on the edge of the bed and lean my arm on the other side of her, surrounding her with my body. I kiss her lips. “I think I’m free until dinnertime.”

“Okay,” Gianna replies, and suddenly I snap.

“Are you okay with me doing this?”

Her mouth parts and eyes widen, surprised by my question and abruptness. “Working with my father?”

I nod sharply.

“Yes. I wouldn’t have introduced you if I wasn’t. Brax, I need you to know I’ve never done that before. Guys have tried to use me to get close to my father. I hate it.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Yes, fine. I was being selfish by doing it for you.” Her eyes dip, and despite the situation and her not answering the question I’m asking, I find myself happy with her answer.

Somewhat, at least.

But with only a few hours left together, I’m like an obsessed man needing to know everything about her and how she thinks.

Who she is.

What she knows.

“Why do you want to leave with me?” I ask next.

Gianna’s eyes dart away and the sadness returns. “You know why.”

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