It’s foolish to wonder about that, of course. I might as well speculate about time travel or what I’d do if the world came to an end. My reality doesn’t allow for what-ifs. What if my parents didn’t die and I finished Caltech? What if I’d refused to kill that man when I was eight? What if I’d been able to protect Maria? If I think about all that, I’ll go insane, and I refuse to let that happen.
I am what I am, and I can’t change.
Not even for her.
* * *
“I talked to my parents this afternoon,” Nora says as we sit down to dinner that evening. “They asked me again about visiting them.”
“Did they now?” I give her a sardonic look. “And is that all you talked to them about?”
Nora looks down at her salad plate. “I’m going to tell them soon.”
“When?” It pisses me off that she keeps acting like the baby doesn’t exist. “When you deliver?”
“No, of course not.” She looks up and frowns at me. “How do you know I didn’t tell them yet, anyway? Are you listening in on my conversations?”
“Of course.” I don’t listen in on everything, but I’ve eavesdropped a few times. Just enough to know that her parents remain in blissful ignorance of the latest development in their daughter’s life. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have Nora think all her conversations are monitored. “Did you expect me not to?”
Her lips tighten. “Yes, perhaps. Privacy being a basic human right and all that.”
“There’s no such thing as a basic human right, my pet.” I want to laugh at her naïveté. “That’s a made-up construct. Nobody owes you anything. If you want something in life, you have to fight for it. You have to make it happen.”
“Like you made my captivity happen?”
I give her a cool smile. “Precisely. I wanted you, so I took you. I didn’t sit around pining and wishing.”
“Or dwelling on the construct of human rights, apparently.” Her voice holds just the faintest edge of sarcasm. “Is that how you will raise our child? Just take what you want and don’t worry about hurting people?”
I inhale slowly, noting the tension in her features. “Is that what worries you, my pet?”
“A lot of things worry me,” she says evenly. “And yes, raising a child with a man who lacks a conscience is fairly high on the list.”
For some reason, her words sting. I want to reassure her, tell her that she’s wrong to worry, but I can’t lie to her any more than I can lie to myself.
I have no idea how I’m going to raise this child, what kind of lessons I’m going to impart. Men like me—men like my father—aren’t meant to have children. She knows it, and I know it too.
As though sensing my thoughts, Nora asks quietly, “Why do you even want this baby, Julian? Why is it so important to you?”
I look at her silently, unsure how to answer the question. There’s no good reason for this child to be as important to me as it is. No reason for me to want it as badly as I do. I should’ve been upset—or at the very least, annoyed—by Nora’s pregnancy, but instead, when Goldberg gave us the news, the emotion I felt was so foreign that I didn’t recognize it at first.
It was joy.
Pure, unadulterated joy.
For a brief, blissful moment, I was truly happy.
When I don’t respond, Nora exhales and looks down at her plate again. I watch as she cuts a piece of tomato and begins to eat her salad. Her face is pale and strained, yet each of her movements is so graceful and feminine that I’m hypnotized, completely absorbed by the sight of her.
I can watch her for hours.
When I first brought her to the island, the mealtimes were my favorite part of the day. I loved interacting with her, seeing her battle her fear and try to maintain her composure. Her stoic, fragile bravery had delighted me almost as much as her delicious body. She’d been terrified, yet I could see the calculation behind her timid smiles and shy flirting.
In her own quiet way, my pet has always been a fighter.
“Nora . . .” I want to take away her stress, her understandable worry, but I can’t lie to her. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. So when she looks up, I say only, “This baby is part you, part me. That’s reason enough for me to care.” And when she continues to look at me, her expression unchanging, I add quietly, “I’m going to do the best I can for our child, my pet. That much I can promise you.”
The corners of her lips lift in a fleeting smile. “Of course you will, Julian. And so will I. But will that be enough?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” I respond, and as Ana brings out the next course, we focus on the food and let the topic rest.
Chapter 12
Nora
“Did you see the girl who was brought here this morning?” Rosa asks during our usual walk. “Ana said she was handcuffed and everything.”
“What?” I give Rosa a startled look. “What girl? I went for a quick run before breakfast, and I didn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t see anything either. Ana told me she spotted her, and she’s really blond and beautiful. Apparently, Lucas Kent is keeping her in his quarters.” Rosa is clearly relishing imparting this bit of gossip. “Ana thinks she might’ve betrayed Señor Esguerra in some way.”
“Really?” I frown. “I don’t know anything about any of this. Julian didn’t mention it to me.” In general, since I hacked into Julian’s computer, he’s been telling me less about his business. I don’t know if that’s because he now distrusts me or because he’s trying to keep me as calm as possible in light of the pregnancy. I suspect it’s the latter, given how overprotective he is these days.