Page 113 of Sinful Lies

I promised Zara that I would be better, but I’m yet to show it.

I run my hands over my face as I take a steadying breath before throwing open the door to my office.

When I catch sight of her on the floor of the bathroom, my heart feels as if it’s being shredded to pieces.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I get to my knees.

She lifts her head, her green eyes red rimmed and shining with tears.

I’m such an asshole. “I…I just need some time.”

She sniffs, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Iwas going to tell you tonight. I planned a whole evening. I-I wanted it to be special.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Could I be any more of a prick?.

That’s why she had decorated the living area with candles and set the table for a nice intimate dinner.

I was all ready to bypass it all and jump straight in the shower with her, and I would have if I hadn’t noticed the notification on her phone.

I’s so fucking stupid.

“It’s all going to be okay, Zara.” I cup her cheek, praying that she can hear the sincerity in my voice. “I need to go to my office to clear my head and then we can talk.”

She nods, her throat bobbing, as she watches me get to my feet.

I wish I could give her the reaction she was hoping for, but in truth, I’m not sure how I feel.

I stalk back into my office, locking the door behind me, and sink down into my chair. My phone lights up on my desk with an incoming call from Alexei, but I ignore it.

He’s due to fly back from Russia today, and I expect he’ll waste no time in calling a family meeting, but right now, I’m in no mood to discuss my father.

I need to clear my head, and I can’t do that when Alexei is breathing down my neck about shit I want nothing to do with.

Zara ispregnant.

I’m going to be a father in a matter of months, and that thought both thrills me and terrifies me at the same time.

I’ve always wanted children. I loved having brothers growing up, and I pictured myself having a big family, with loads of kids running about the house, filling it withlaughter.

But I glance at the photo of my parents and brothers on my desk, and my jaw clenches because I also thought I knew my father, but it turns out, I never really knew him at all.

All my life, I’ve been compared to him, and that was once something I took pride in.

Charming.

Funny.

Outspoken.

Just like your father…

Now I’m not so sure. What if our similarities run deeper than that?

Zara is my first real relationship, and even that started out as fake.

What if I don’t have what it takes to be the kind of father our child deserves? The kind of husband that Zara deserves?

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