Page 80 of Surprise Baby for the Enemy

Another nightmare, then.

“Daddy!” she cries, instantly relieved, and reaches up for me. I set her breakfast down on the side table and climb into bed with her, scooping her and Lilac both into my arms. Her other plush try to roll under me, and I kick them callously away. When she’s holding Lilac, the rest of the little buggers become invisible.

“Good morning, my dove,” I say, pressing the traditional three kisses of greeting to her forehead. She doesn’t return them, another sure sign she’s been deeply upset. Her down-soft brown curls tickle my neck as she hides her face in it.

“The scary men were outside my room last night,” she whimpers.

Ah yes, the scary men. I dream about them sometimes too, only my dreams have significantly more blood in them than hers do. I made sure of that.

“Not last night,” I say softly, cupping her head in my hand. “That was last year, little princess. The scary men are all gone now.”

She shakes her head, rubbing her tears and snot off on the shoulder of my linen shirt. “Are you sure, daddy?”

“I pinky-swore on it, didn’t I?” I ask, feigning offense.

She peels one of her arms from around Lilac’s crushed body and holds up her pinky, scarcely half the length of mine. “Swear again,” she demands.

I heave a sigh, like this is the most exhausting chore in all the world. Sidony lets out a giggle, but it’s weak. She’ll be in a fragile mood for the rest of the day, and I won’t be here to make her feel better when the shadows of her nightmare come creeping back in. And worse, I still have to tell her that I’m leaving in just over an hour.

Sometimes, I could strangle Fantasia. She’d look like poor Lilac when I was done with her.

“Very well,” I say. “I, Achilles Warwick, on my honor and that of our family, do solemnly swear this to be true, that our mortal enemies, the scary men, have all been banished from this mortal plane, with all due haste and fury, etc., etc..”

Sidony giggles again. I curl my pinky finger around hers and shake it once. “There it is. Now, eat your breakfast. Daddy has to tell you something.”

She climbs out of my lap and retrieves her plate before hopping back in bed. I’m usually very no-nonsense about eating in bed instead of at the table, but the rules are different on nightmare days. And leaving days. And her mother’s goodbye day.

Sometimes, it seems like we have fewer good days than bad days in this house. Which is not what Fantasia claimed would happen.

That’s a dangerous line of thought, so I push it aside as Sidony cuddles back into my side. She goes for the honeyed fruit first, naturally, and for a long moment I let her eat in silence.

Every time I have to do this, it gets harder.

“Sidony,” I say, and from the change in my tone I think my daughter knows what I’ll say, because her fork stills. “Auntie Tasia has asked me to run a quick errand for her today.”

“Don’t, daddy,” she says, her voice so small I almost don’t hear it.

“I have to.”

She shakes her head, keeping it bowed away from me. She probably won’t look at me again until I’ve come back, which makes my heart wrench.

“I’m sorry, Sidony. It’s just for a couple days.”

She doesn’t respond. I stroke her hair, but still, there’s nothing.

“I love you, little princess,” I tell her, and kiss the top of her head.

“Love you,” she mumbles, but all I hear is sorrow.

I slip out of her room without looking back. If I do, I’ll pull her back into my arms and never leave.

Damn Fantasia.

No, damn Thomas Warwick, I tell myself. That will be a far more helpful mindset when I have to force him to kneel in front of me and sign our contracts with his own blood.

I close up my suitcase and leave it in the hall just outside my door. A member of the household will see that it’s taken to our private jet. In the meantime, Fantasia has requested I meet with her one last time before departing.

I find her in what was once the audience chamber in Wesley Hall’s heyday, sitting in a plush chair as close to the fireplace as she can get without tumbling in. Anyone who didn’t know her would think she was glaring into it, but really, her face is always like that. Since the day she was born, Fantasia Ashwood’s narrow face has worn the expression of a disapproving Mother Superior, and her pale green eyes have squinted at the world like the whole of it stinks.

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