The Knight (Stolen Duet 2)

“What did you hope to accomplish by breaking in and making pancakes?”

“The pancakes were to get you to talk to me.”

“And the breaking in was to make me throw you out?”

“I have about seventy pounds and a foot on you, baby. You won’t be throwing me anywhere.”

“I can call the police, and they can throw you back in prison,” she answered sweetly.

I grinned, feeling like a predator, sinking further into our game. “You’d have to make it to the phone first.”

She avoided my gaze, looking unsure if I’d really hurt her, and I realized this might not seem like a simple game to her. “I’m sorry.” I dropped my fork and stood up from the table. “I’d never hurt you,” I said as I moved across the kitchen to where she stood. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

She sighed. “What do you want, Angel?”

“I just want to talk.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about that doesn’t start and end with divorce?”

“I don’t want a divorce.”

“It’s not up to you.”

“I’ll contest it.”

“And I’ll tell the judge you, and I didn’t actually consent to the marriage.”

“Your father will go back to prison.”

I knew I had her when her gaze turned murderous. “Give me one reason why we should stay married?” I started to answer when her finger rested on my lips. “Think about your answer because it better be good, or you’re out of here.” She slowly lifted her finger from my lips and waited.

“Fate could have chosen anything for us fifteen years ago, and no matter how many times we run in opposite directions, fate always pulls us back. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out why. I can’t stay away, and your heart won’t stop seeking me. We’re inevitable, Mian.”* * *I LEANED AGAINST the wall while Mian talked quietly with Anna by the front door. She kept scowling at me over Mian’s shoulder as she gave her instructions for Caylen.

Mian had agreed to spend the weekend alone with me, but this weekend was all I would get.

No sex.

No lies.

No looking back after Sunday.

I was eager to start this weekend with her, but as she kissed Caylen and shut the front door, I realized I had no idea what my next step should be. She looked as nervous as I felt as she stared back at me a safe distance away.

“Okay…” She held out her arms and then let them fall back down to her sides. “How should we start, hubby?”

I rubbed my nape and took a deep breath. “What do you normally do on a Saturday?”

“Work,” she answered dryly. She had no intentions of making this easy for me.

I nodded and cursed myself for fucking this up already. “I’d like to see what you do.”

“Why?” She looked genuinely confused as her brows pulled together.

“I’m interested in you. Isn’t it obvious?”

“It’s ironic that we spent six years in this house together and you spent most of it ignoring me, and now you’re interested?”

“Fuck, baby,” I groaned. “Cut me some slack. I’m desperate.” She relaxed some and started for the stairs.

“My office is upstairs,” she mumbled. I followed her up, watching her perky ass twitch in her shorts as she climbed the stairs. At one point, she cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder, and I quickly averted my attention.

We reached her old bedroom, which she’d turned into a study area. “Caylen has your old bedroom,” she said as if she had read my mind.

“Are you happy here?”

“My son is happy, so I’m happy.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much about making the same mistakes your father made.”

She swirled on her foot until we were nose to chest. Her hands planted on her hips as she glared up at me. “Who said I’m worried?”

“You didn’t have to. Anyone can see you’re afraid of disappointing him.”

“The beginning of his life wasn’t easy. I’m just fortunate he doesn’t remember any of it.”

“You protected him.”

“I put him in danger. There hasn’t been a day I don’t regret breaking into your father’s home. I had been desperate and didn’t think I had a choice.”

“You think that makes you a bad mother?” She shrugged and tapped the mouse to wake the desktop. It was clear I wouldn’t get much out of her, so I got comfortable in the green cushioned chair and did the pouring instead. “My father risked his life, and it put food on the table, but feeding me was never the reason. He did it to honor his duty, and then he did it for power. I had a place to call home, clothes to keep me warm, and a full stomach at the end of the day, but none of it made him a good father.”

I counted the seconds until she took the bait and spoke to me.

“And your mother? What did she do for you?” I couldn’t see her face behind the computer, but I recognized the emotion that turned her voice delicate. She knew the answer.