Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

“No. Make sure it’s a girl, okay?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“She’s lucky.”

“Who?”

“The baby.”

“Why?”

“You’re all nice and fun.”

“I’m not.”

“Hey, you play Lego. A lot of uncles won’t do that with a kid. Uncle Ro tells jokes, and Auntie Min makes cookies. Can you imagine playing Nerf in this house? And you have a pool. And a lake. And four cute dogs! You just need some swings.”

“I don’t know how to be a dad.”

She patted his arm. “There’s probably videos for that on YouTube.”

“What if my kid is messed up?”

“What if she is?”

“Are you going to tell me this is Sparta?”

She threw the pile of clothes on the bed and fist bumped him.

“Get changed fast. You’ve got some wedding butt to kick.”

Chapter Fourteen

Choose.

He’d asked her to make a choice between him and his child. Without hesitation she’d chosen their baby.

Despite weeks of introspection, nights lying awake, too many awful hours crying, if he came to her and asked again, her answer would be the same.

A simple test would tell them whose sperm had laughed in the face of her birth control, but no one wanted to know except Severin, and that was only so that he could condemn the child if it carried his DNA.

“Get your ass in the shower, woman,” Rodrigo growled. She hadn’t even heard him come in. “This wedding is happening whether he shows or not.”

She opened her eyes. He stood over the bed, glowering and glorious in his suit. He always seemed so cultured, but she’d knelt at his feet too long, and she’d felt the sting of his cane too often to fall for his civilized charade. It was a mask to disguise the same dominance and sadism Severin didn’t bother to hide from the world. The two were of a like mind, although Rodrigo was less prickly – less alone. The loneliness in Severin spoke to her own.

Her wedding day, and yet her family wouldn’t be here. They’d RSVP’d a simple check in the ‘no’ box, without so much as an excuse, let alone a card of congratulations. Not a phone call or a lousy set of tea towels. Not that they needed more tea towels, but a gesture that she meant something to them would have been kind, even if it was a lie. But then, she was an outcast, and she doubted that would ever change unless they needed a kidney or something.

It wouldn’t hurt so much if she thought for a moment Severin was going to join them.

He’d pul

led away – his affection for them draining as though her pregnancy had pulled the plug on any tender feelings he’d once harbored for her. She couldn’t do what he wanted, though. She couldn’t even bring herself to think about it.

But to marry Rodrigo and leave Severin behind?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered mostly into the pillow.

He sat on the bed beside her and sighed. “You don’t want to marry me?”