Page 121 of Ruthless God

“So, he’s still playing his games. All these years, and he still thinks he can just… swoop in and fix everything.” I shake my head, angry at the absurdity of it all. “Why does he think I want anything to do with him? Or her?”

Claudius is silent for a moment, watching me, his expression unchanged.

“Maybe he thinks he has a right to do so.”

The words stun me, and I stop short. A right?

“A right? How?” I ask, the disbelief clear in my voice.

“You’re his daughter, Cecely.” He shrugs, like it’s a simple truth, one that doesn’t need to be argued.

“Yeah,” I say, voice tight, “but he hasn’t been here for any of it. He doesn’t get to just?—”

I cut myself off, suddenly feeling like a fool. I’ve given this too much thought and let myself feel too much.

No more.

I shake my head, standing abruptly. “I’m tired.”

Claudius’ voice is calmer now, softer. “Cecely?—”

I don’t let him finish. I turn, my expression blank, my voice colder than I feel.

“Bring them here, Claudius. I. Don’t. Care.”

Lie.

I do care. I care too much, and that’s the problem. I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I walk away. Leaving behind the half-eaten cereal, the half-finished conversation—and the whole mess I don’t want to deal with.

25

Cecely

Morning comes far too soon. The only good thing about it? Waking up wrapped in Claudius. His warmth surrounds me, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his slow, steady breathing tickling my neck.

I should move. But I don’t. Instead, I snuggle closer, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and spice that always seems to cling to him.

For just a moment, I let myself exist here. No family drama. No hidden basements. No ghosts creeping into my room in the middle of the night.

Just this.

But reality comes crashing back too fast. Gabriel was here. And I need to tell Claudius. Maybe it’ll be enough to stop my sperm donor and his perfect little family from arriving. Maybe it’ll be enough to change everything.

Claudius stirs behind me, his grip tightening, his body shifting until I feel all of him pressing into me.

His voice is gravelly, thick with sleep. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

I need to tell him. I should tell him. But before I can even open my mouth, Claudius shifts behind me, his warmth seeping into my skin, his breath hot against my neck.

“Morning,” he rasps again, this time lower, rougher.

A slow, delicious shiver runs down my spine. Damn it.

Focus, Cecely. Gabriel was here. You need to?—

I gasp as his lips brush my shoulder. Lazy and unhurried. The hand resting on my stomach drifts lower, his fingers tracing soft, teasing circles over my skin.

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