Not His Toy

“You’re pregnant.”

“My pregnancy has nothing to do with you!” I whisper, barely standing, clutching my hands over my stomach in a crush of terror.

“Oh no, sweetie!” he steps in close, removes my hands, and carefully looks at what I’m desperately trying to hide. Ice is in his eyes; a harsh mask freezes on his face. The man barely keeps his anger under control.

“You’re pregnant with my child. You don’t even need to try to lie!” he grits through his teeth. He understood everything. He knows. So many emotions that I forget how to breathe. I take a step back, wanting to run—but he holds me firmly by the hands. He won’t let me go.

“And I need an heir,” he says, eyes blazing, while panic rages inside him.

“And you will give him to me! And after that, I’ll take him!”