Breaking Out (The Surrender Trilogy 2)

And he would make her sign a pre-nup and people would find out where she was from and call her horrible names like gold-digging whore. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air.

Rushing to the window, she pulled back the curtains and broke a nail trying to open the window. Stupid lock! Once it was unlocked it went up a lot easier. She sucked in gulps of air, but that still wasn’t helping.

She went to the sink and turned the cold knob. Cool water rushed over her wrists. She splashed her face and returned to the window. The night air chilled her damp skin and some semblance of calm set in.

She had no idea how long she was in there. Her face was chilled to the bone when she left and all of her nails were bitten down to the quick. The scent of extinguished candles swept through the hall as she approached the den and the lamps were now turned on.

Lucian looked up as she stood in the doorway. His arm draped over the couch and an empty glass dangled from his hand. His gaze fell on her and he frowned.

Neither of them said a word. She opened her mouth, but what could she say? She looked around the room for the box holding the ring, but couldn’t find it.

She’d never known such awkwardness. It seemed to take shape all around them, jostling their tense bodies, cementing their feet firmly in place. Paralysis took over and she was pretty sure that someone could set her clothes on fire in that moment and she would find it difficult to move.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You know, I played this moment through my mind, came up with a hundred different ways you could’ve reacted. I gotta say that wasn’t one of them.”

“You took me by surprise,” she mumbled.

“Well, now that you know what’s coming, do you think we can discuss it?”

“Lucian, I . . .”

“Evelyn, this isn’t something I’ve ever done or ever considered doing before. At least do me the courtesy of telling me what’s going through your mind. I mean, I have no idea what to make of this. Did you just need to find your bearings? Are you flat-out rejecting me? Is it the glass? The way I asked? Were you just caught off guard? I want nothing more than to slip this ring onto your finger and make love to you as my fiancée, but you feel a million miles away. Talk to me.”

In truth, she was only a few feet from him. She fought the urge to turn and run away again. Jamming her stubby thumbnail into her palm, she forced herself to step into the room.

She awkwardly sat on the edge of the couch, her body poised for fight or flight. “God, you don’t even want to sit with me. What the hell’s going on?” he asked.

Run. “I . . .”

“Do not even say you need to use the bathroom again.”

“Sorry, you just took me off guard.”

“So you’ve said. That is the traditional way to propose, I’m told.”

Propose. She never once imagined herself married. The scenario simply didn’t work in her head. Where some girls played with dolls and dreamed of white dresses, she played with branches that looked like people and dreamed of warm clothing. She had never been more unprepared for a moment in her entire life.

“Lucian,” her voice was barely a whisper. They were only supposed to play chess. “You don’t want to marry me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Evelyn. I don’t make hasty decisions.”

“Okay, maybe you want to get married, but why would you want to marry me?”

He looked at her as if she admitted to something as heinous as boiling puppies for fun. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, fun, beautiful, you make me happy. Evelyn, I love you. Don’t you get it?”

She shook her head, dumbfounded. “No, I don’t.”

His frustrated expression crumbled to a look of insecurity that was so unfitting on Lucian’s face. He frowned, his lips thin as he worked out his words. “Evelyn, do you . . . do you love me?”

She shut her eyes. Pain knifed through her as if something unbearable sat on her chest. She couldn’t say it. Once someone had another person’s love, they took advantage of it, took it for granted, killed it. It was giving someone ultimate power. “I care for you—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit! It’s a simple question. Do. You. Love. Me? Yes or no?”

“I . . . I don’t say that.”

“Well, do you feel it? I love you. Give me something here. We’ve been together for months. I tell you almost every day. I see the way you look at me. What we do, it isn’t always fucking. I’ve felt you make love to me. Why can’t you just admit it?”