Page 34 of Cruel Heir

Lucia has always been a means to an end. But as I look at her, sitting there at my right hand, I can envision her as so much more.

I only need her to see it, too.

11

LUCIA

For two weeks, I exist in Andre’s mansion with very little idea of what’s going on outside of it. Celeste tells me to be patient, that she can’t risk trying to deliver another message so soon. She tells me, in a quiet voice as she helps me with my hair for another of Andre’s dinner parties, that she’s sure my father must be working on some sort of plan. That he’ll rescue me, sooner rather than later. All I need is to be patient.

But patience is harder and harder to have with each passing day and night. There isn’t a single night that Andre doesn’t insist that I go to bed with him, and some mornings he visits me as well, waking me up with his hands sliding over my body and his cock nudging insistently between my thighs. I’ve never been very good at keeping track of my period—I’ve never really needed to be—but as the days tick by, I feverishly try to remember when my last one was, and how long it might be before I can expect it again. How long before I can either have the relief of knowing that I have a little longer to escape—or before I know that escape or no, I’m going to have Andre’s child.

With every night that passes, it’s harder and harder to ignore my desires, tonotreact until Andre forces it from me. I find myself wondering what it would be like to be the one who seduceshim, totouch and kiss him the way I might want to, to reciprocate the things he does to me willingly. The thoughts find their way into my dreams, until some mornings I feel like I almost summoned Andre into my bed when I wake up to find him there, my body already wet and aching for him.

I feel like I’m splitting into two different people—the part of me that desperately wants to go home, and the part of me that desires my husband, no matter the circumstances of how we ended up in this marriage.

“Are you alright?” Celeste asks me, as I press a hand to my stomach, a sharp cramp distracting my train of thought. I wince, the pain jolting through my abdomen again, and then it hits me.

“Shit.” I leap up, dislodging the curling iron with a yelp. “Shit! I’m sorry.” I press a hand to my mouth as Celeste winces where the iron bumped her hand. “I’m so sorry. Just—give me a minute.”

I flee to the bathroom, my heart pounding. Another of the cramps tears through me, and I groan, hope mingling with dismay as I close the bathroom door and rush for the toilet. If this is what I think, it’s a relief—but also, tonight couldn’t be a worse time.

All of Andre’s new allies are coming for a dinner party tonight, and Andre will expect me to be on my best behavior—cheerful and charming, his elegant, beautiful wife. He wanted me to take over planning this one, and I did—which means he’ll either be pleased with how I’ve done and be kind and solicitous all evening, or he won’t be happy, and I’ll have to deal with his moods on top of—

I suck in a breath as I see the blood.Andre is going to be furious. It’s the first thought that lances through my head, followed byoh my god, I’m not pregnant.I don’t know whether to be terrified or happy, and underneath that is the anxiety over the fact that I have to help preside over a dinner party tonight where my husband will expect absolute perfection from me. I won’t get to lie in bed with a heating pad and a cup of tea; I’m going to have to make small talk and smile as if it doesn’t feel like I’m being kicked in the abdomen.

It could be worse. It could be pregnancy nausea. I reach for one of the tampons that I asked Celeste to get for me in case of this exact situation,wincing. I’m just going to have to get through the evening as best as I can—and swap out the light blue dress I’d planned to wear for something darker colored, just in case.

Even those concerns can’t alter the relief I feel, knowing that I have a little more time. At least one more month, I think to myself as I get up and wash my hands. But it might not be enough. I have to find a way to buy myself as much time as possible. I need something more certain. Andre and I are both young and healthy—without some kind of interference, I don’t doubt that I’ll be pregnant sooner rather than later. Just the thought sends a jolt of fear through me.

I can’t let myself think about Andre’s reaction to the ways I might manage that—or the fact that I’m not pregnant this month. If I do, I’ll panic. Instead, I slip out of the bathroom, seeing Celeste’s knowing look as soon as I do.

“Lucia?” She raises an eyebrow, and I nod.

“Can you hide some tampons in one of the downstairs bathrooms? Just in case I need to visit the bathroom quickly during dinner.” I bite my lip. “I know Andre will be upset when he finds out. But I’m not going to be able to escape upstairs until the dinner is over.”

“I’ll manage it.” The worry is clear in her eyes. “He’s going to be more than upset.”

Fear flickers through me at that, but I force myself to control it. “He can’t honestly expect to get me pregnant in one month,” I say firmly, trying to convince myself as much as Celeste. “It takes time. Right?” I bite my lip, glancing at her. “That’s how it works? It’s not reasonable to expect that I’d be pregnant this quickly.”

Celeste lets out a sharp breath. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “But men like Andre rarely care about what’s reasonable when it comes to what they want.”

“I know.” I glance in the mirror once more, walking to the closet to find a different dress for the evening. I settle on a dark blue silk wrap dress, pinned at the hip with a gold bird-shaped brooch, slipping on a pair of black Louboutin pumps. “Do I look alright?”

Celeste nods, forcing a small smile. “You look as beautiful as you always do,” she assures me.

I glance at her, feeling a twist of anxiety in my stomach. “I can’t get pregnant,” I whisper. “I have no idea how long it’s going to take my father to get to me. Even if he does, if I’m already pregnant with Andre’s baby—”

“You don’t know what your father will do about it.” Celeste sinks down onto the vanity chair, her hands knotted together in her lap.

“If he kills Andre, I’ll be a widow. That’s bad enough, when it comes to him trying to salvage an alliance out of arranging a marriage for me. But if I have a child—” I swallow hard. “I don’t know. I have no idea what he would do about it.”

“So—what?” Celeste looks at me, and I can see the worry written on her face. It makes me realize that she cares about what happens to me, at least a little. That I have a friend here. “What can you do about it? Andre isn’t going to stay out of your bed.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s not. I need another way.” I glance at her, feeling guilty already for what I’m about to ask. “Do you think—could you get me—”

“Lucia.” There’s a warning note in Celeste’s voice as she looks at me, her eyebrows shooting up. “If you’re thinking—if he catches you withbirth control—”

“It’s the only way.” I can hear the desperation in my voice, rising until it almost cracks. “Like you said, he’s not going to stay out of my bed. I can hide pills. I can take them when he’s not around. He’ll never find out—”

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