Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
It’s odd how I never focused on it when I used to drive to and from rehearsal, but humans don’t realize what they’re missing until it’s snatched away from them.
If I’d known, I would’ve paid better attention.
Luca hasn’t gotten in touch since that time at the lingerie store. I can’t call him either, because Adrian not only got me a new phone number, but I’m sure he’s also having it tracked.
And since I don’t go out alone, I assume it’s hard for Luca to find an opening to get in touch.
That’s why I need to provide him with that opening, because if there’s anyone who can help get me out from under Adrian’s steel-like hold, it’s Luca.
I spot a tent under which people are serving hot soup to the homeless. The image of the man in front of the hospital comes to mind and an idea strikes me.
It takes me a few minutes to organize my thoughts in a way that won’t send Adrian’s red flags up. If he gets a whiff of what I’m doing, he’ll lock me in a cell until I give birth.
Facing him, I try to ignore that he’s still licking and nibbling on my finger, and how his touch is sending tiny bursts of pleasure down my spine and to my belly. “I was talking to the OB-GYN when you went to get the prescription.”
“You were?”
“Yes. She said I could be developing depression.”
“Is she an OB-GYN or a psychotherapist?”
I lift a shoulder. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
“You’ve always had depression, Lia. You’re not developing it.”
My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”
“The pills in your apartment.”
Right. I guess it doesn’t matter that I’ve hid them from him. Adrian watches my every move and notices everything, which is one more reason to be careful around him.
“Why have you never asked me about them?” I ask in a quiet tone.
“Would you rather I have?”
“No, but that’s what most people do whenever they learn I have mental health issues.”
“I’m not most people.”
“You…you don’t think I’m broken?”
“So what if you are. It’s what makes you who you are.”
My lips part. It’s like he’s saying he likes me just as I am. Broken and all.
“You don’t have to hide your pills from me, Lia.”
“I’m do…not hide them.”
“Yes, you do. But you’ve not been using them since the pregnancy. Not the insomnia pills or the antidepressants. Your nightmares have noticeably toned down, too. You didn’t have one during the past week and your pills remain untouched. So how is it noticeable to the OB-GYN that you’re developing depression?”
Damn it.
I knew he observed everything, but I didn’t realize he was that attuned to me, even to my nightmares.
“I told her I’m feeling confined,” I blurt.
He pauses, seeming to be genuinely concerned as he lets my hand fall on his lap but doesn’t release it. “You are?”
I scoff. “I’m trapped inside four walls twenty-four-seven with nothing to do. What do you think?”
“You take walks in the garden.”
“You make me do it.”
“To help your circulation.”
“Whatever. It still doesn’t count as entertainment.”
“You can read.”
I scrunch my nose. “No, thanks.”
His lips twitch in a small smile. It’s not the first time he’s suggested I read. He mentioned that it helped getting him through his childhood, but I told him that not all of us are born to be bookworms. Now he smiles whenever the subject is brought up again.
I don’t want to get caught up in one of his rare smiles that appears once in a blue moon, but I do. Whenever he shows this side of himself, the slightly carefree and relaxed side, I stop and stare, letting my mind wander to what our relationship would’ve been like if we were a normal couple. If our first meeting hadn’t been when he killed someone in cold blood, and if he hadn’t forced me to marry him before announcing ever so cruelly that my only worth is his child that’s growing in my womb.
But we’re not a normal couple. We never were and never will be.
“What do you want to do, Lenochka?”
I perk up at his question and the use of my nickname. It means he’s letting some of his guard down, and I don’t take it for granted when Adrian asks me what I want.
So I soften my voice because any stubbornness or high range in it will have the absolute opposite effect on him. “I want to go out.”
“We’re currently out.”
“Not like this. I want to be out in the open.”
“Why?”
“To breathe properly.”
I realize my mistake when his eyes darken. I just implied that I don’t breathe in his company or his house, and while that’s somewhat true, I don’t want him to get angry and close off any negotiation.
“I mean outside air,” I recover quickly. “I want to breathe outside air.”