He pinched his lips together. “Stop fucking lying to me,” he raged. “Where did you get these.”
“Henrik. I didn’t—”
“Where!” he bellowed. She whimpered and stepped back, covering her quivering lips with her fingers.
“Marco and Tristan gave them to me,” she whispered. “They were Henrietta’s. I swear to you, I didn’t take a single one. If there are pills missing, she took them. Not me.” She reached for him, but he jerked away.
“Why are they in your drawer?” he demanded. “You had them in my bathroom!”
“I’d forgotten all about them. I tossed them in the drawer in here, and I never thought about them again. I wouldn’t do that—I wouldn’t.”
He had trusted her. He should have checked. He should have had her tested to be sure she wasn’t doing anything to prevent conception. No wonder she’d stopped fighting with him. She’d made him believe she enjoyed his attentions, that she was starting to actually enjoy belonging to him.
Lies.
Deceit.
“Your period is over?” he asked in a tone so low, his throat ached.
“What? Yes. A day ago. Why?” She wiped away the tears from her cheeks, swiping at the mascara along her cheekbone. She’d have to retouch her make up before going downstairs.
“When this party is over, you’ll be brought downstairs.” He dropped the pills to the floor and smashed it with his boot.
“Downstairs?” She sucked in a horrified breath, remembering the breeding tables in the lowest level of the house.
“Once you’re pregnant, you’ll return to this suite.” He stepped toward her, trailing his finger along the black line of her makeup. “Play nice for the party tonight. You remember all the toys I have downstairs, right?”
Her throat worked, and her lip trembled. “Yes, but, Henrik—”
“Fix your face, Megara.” He rubbed his fingers together, smearing the makeup into his fingertips.
“Henrik, please—” Her voice was a rasp whisper, heavy with pain and remorse.
He flung the door open and slammed it behind him once in the hall. Her broken sob echoed in his mind as he marched down the hall, leaving her to put herself back together.
28
Megara rushed down the steps in search of Henrik. She needed to speak to him, to talk sense into him before he let his anger make decisions he couldn’t undo.
The breeding table. He couldn’t mean that. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t thinking clearly; if she could just get to him, she could make him see reason.
“Megara, there you are. The chef has been inquiring about you for the past hour.” Hera stepped in front of Megara as she tried to make her way down the hall.
“I’ll be with him in a moment. Have you seen Henrik?” Megara asked, not caring about the panic showing in her voice.
“Henrik? Yes. He’s in his office. He doesn’t want to be disturbed and said to be sure you kept busy with the party. The guests are due to arrive any second.” Hera moved with Megara, stepping before her when she tried to head toward Henrik’s office.
“Is he with anyone?” Megara asked.
“Yes. With men who have business with him. Now, go find the chef and do your hostess duties.” Hera pointed toward the kitchen.
“I have to speak with Henrik first. It’s important.”
Hera frowned. “Is it because of the breeding room?” She sighed. “I’m sure it’s a frightening thought, but it’s necessary I’m afraid.”
“Necessary?” Henrik had told her? Hera? Of all people, why would he tell her?
“Yes. Once you’ve conceived, it will all be a bad dream. I’ve seen women in the breeding rooms. They aren’t nearly as uncomfortable as the idea suggests.”
“You’ve seen them?” Megara’s mind sped faster than her comprehension. How could a woman stand by and watch while others were treated so barbarically? “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I need to speak to Henrik.” She pushed past Hera and charged down the hall toward his office.
“You’ll only make it worse.” Hera’s words reached her as Megara’s hand hovered over the door handle. “If you barge in there, you’ll only make his anger worse. He may not be generous enough to wait until after the party before he locks you downstairs.” Hera breezed toward Megara. Her jeweled fingers caught the light as she tapped her fingertips together. “It’s your call, obviously. But if I were you, and I’m so grateful I’m not, I’d wait until he’s had a chance to calm down before I tried speaking to him again.”
Megara’s stomach rolled, and fresh tears filled her eyes. Hera gave a delicate shrug. “I’ll be in the ballroom. Guests will be here shortly,” she said before gliding away.
Men’s voices came from behind the door, and Megara turned toward it. Rushing in with more pleas for him to try to listen to her would no doubt stoke the fire. She had to make him understand, to make him believe her. She’d given him no cause to think she’d lie to him. Over the past weeks, she’d had plenty of chances to leave him, to run away, but she hadn’t. She’d embraced the arrangement. She’d given herself over to him freely.
Even come to care for him.
No.
That wasn’t what her heart felt for him.
When he looked at her, it was something much larger, something deeper that awoke. His smile, the rare gift of his laugh. His strength, but more so his tenderness. It wasn’t a friendship.
It was love.
She’d sworn she’d never give it to him.
But here she stood, tears burning her eyes, because the man she loved believed she betrayed him.
“Mrs. Hercules.” Sarah’s voice invaded Megara’s moment.
Megara swiped away the tears and straightened herself up before turning around to face her.
“Sorry, ma’am, but the guests have started to arrive.” Sarah pointed behind her. A separate entrance was being used for the party, giving Megara a few extra moments of privacy.
“Thank you, Sarah. I’m going to just do one more quick touch up and I’ll be down. Can you please inform Mr. Hercules…about the guests?” Megara waited until Sarah nodded, then hurried past her and back up to her room. A few moments of privacy, a splash of water, and another touchup, and she’d be ready to play the part of a loving wife.
It wasn’t a hard part to play, except she’d be playing it knowing her husband hated her.
She closed the bedroom door behind her right before the first sob broke free from her chest.
* * *
“You’ve done such a lovely job with the party.” Maria smiled over her glass of champagne at Megara. Music filled the room, guests were dancing and mingling. Overall, the party was a success.
Megara wished the world would crack open and let her fall into the center and melt into the core.
“Thank you, mother.” Megara inclined her head. “How was your trip?” Megara skimmed the crowded room for Henrik. He wasn’t hard to spot, being one of the largest men in the room.
His father and brother stood with him, drinking and talking. His face was tense while his brother spoke to Jackson. The conversation appeared heated, but Henrik’s attention seemed far off. When his gaze met hers from across the room, Megara’s breath hitched in her throat. His jaw stiffened further, and he turned away.
“Are you even listening to me?” Maria asked with annoyance.
“What? Yes, of course. You were having a good time, then father made you come home. I heard you,” Megara assured her.
Maria sighed. “Your attention is obviously elsewhere. You’re tense, and I can tell you were crying earlier.”
Megara touched the corner of her eye. “What?”
Maria pulled Megara’s arm down. “I know my daughter.” She frowned. “I know you’ve gone through all of this on your own. I shouldn’t have listened to your father. I should have come sooner to make sure you were handling things all right. But he insisted you needed to learn to swim.”
“I learned to do that when I was five,�
� Megara pointed out.
“You know what he meant.” Maria touched Megara’s cheek. “Is he as awful as Marco and Tristan say?”
Megara leaned into her mother’s touch. While comforting to an extent, it wasn’t Henrik. Only he could sooth the pain pummeling her heart.
“No. He’s not awful at all,” Megara said softly. “He’s nothing like the stories of the hulking Hercules who can crush a man’s skull with one hand. Actually…I think that’s true. He probably can, but I don’t think he ever would without great cause. And I know he would never hurt me.”
She recalled the hurt in his eyes when he showed her the birth control he’d found. There’d been anger, yes, but beneath that was a deep well of hurt.
“If that’s true, whatever the issue is at the moment, it will be fixed soon enough.” Maria patted Megara’s cheek and finished her champagne. “It’s late and I’m tired. You have outdone yourself with this party, Megara.”
“Are you leaving already?” Panic rose in her chest. If her mother and father left, the other guests would start to leave as well. And the party would end. And her torment would begin.
Unless she could get Henrik to believe her.
“I’m going to make my rounds, and you know how long that takes with all these people. I have to find your father first, though.” Maria stretched her neck, looking around the crowd.
“He’s there.” Megara pointed across the room. “Speaking with Castor, Henrik’s brother.”
“Castor’s here?” Maria asked, astonishment in her tone. “I didn’t think he’d step near a room Hera was in.” She laughed. “He must really care for his brother to put up with that witch’s presence.”
Megara gasped. “Mother.”
Maria laughed. “Megara, you’re an adult now. Full grown and married. I no longer have to be the perfect role model for you,” she said with a wink. “I’m going to gather up your father and start our goodbyes.”
Megara scanned the crowd again, looking for Henrik.
“You should be mingling.” Celeste popped up from behind Megara and linked her arm through hers.
“Where have you been all night?” Megara asked, forcing some levity.
“I’ve been talking with Oliver, and dancing with Oliver…” she leaned in close, “and kissing Oliver.”
Megara laughed, and for the first time that night, it came naturally.
“You sound like a teenager.”
“He makes me feel like one.” Celeste giggled, squeezing Megara. “I think I’ll be coming over for a lot more visits.” She winked.
Megara’s stomach sank into her slippers. She swallowed. “Celeste. I’m not sure—”
“Oh, he’s waving me over. I’ll talk with you later.” Celeste pressed a kiss to Megara’s cheek and rushed off.
Everyone was having a wonderful time. As the hostess, she should have been happy, but her stomach ached too much to enjoy the champagne or any of the wonderful food Chef Ramone provided.
Megara placed her full glass on a passing tray and inched along the wall to the exit. A few minutes in the garden would settle her down. She just needed to calm down. Henrik would see his anger had ruled his words. He wouldn’t force her downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Henrik’s deep voice stilled her as she reached the doors to the patio.
“Just outside.” She gestured toward the gardens. “Fresh air.”
He shook his head slowly. “No.”
“No?” Her throat closed on the word.
“It’s time for you to go downstairs. The guests will be leaving soon, and they expect us to leave together. We’ll make our exit now, and I’ll take you down myself.” His dark eyes unsettled her. He hadn’t calmed down in the least in the hours since the party began.
“Henrik.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. The band struck up another song, making it harder to keep her voice a whisper. “Please. You have to listen to me. I swear to you, I didn’t take a single pill. I did nothing to stop us from conceiving.” She touched his arm lightly.
He stiffened. “I’m going to signal the band and we’ll make our exit. Don’t fight me, Megara, or it will be worse.”
Her heart clenched, dipping even lower into the sea of lost hope.
“Please, Henrik,” she deplored, searching his eyes for a crack in his resolve.
Henrik raised his hand in the air, flicking his wrist. The band came to an abrupt stop.
“Ahhh…it looks like our newlywed couple is ready to make their departure from the celebration.” The lead singer made the announcement.
Megara swallowed back the sob scratching her throat.
Henrik picked up her hand, tucked it beneath his arm, and turned to the crowd who now faced them, all smiles.
“We want to thank all of you for coming tonight to celebrate our nuptials. We are lucky to have so many friends and family among us.” Henrik’s deep voice projected over the guests. “While our evening has come to an end, yours hasn’t. Please, continue to enjoy the music, the food, and the drinks!” He threw on a grin for good measure. A cheer went up in the room.
Megara held fast to her pseudo smile, even while her insides trembled.
Henrik tugged on her arm and led her through the mass of people. She gave courteous nods to those who threw congratulatory words toward them, but she couldn’t make her throat work well enough to speak.
Once outside the ballroom, the doors shut behind them, and Henrik dropped her arm from his.
“Let’s go,” he said in the harshest tone she’d ever heard him use. Had he sounded like this to the men and women he’d killed? Is this the tone he reserved for those he hated the most?
“Henrik. Listen to me,” she urged once more.
He grabbed hold of her elbow and pulled her down the long corridor to the next. She fought him, trying to get away so she could make him stop, make him try to see reason, but it was useless. He had more strength in his pinky finger than she had in her entire body.
When they came to the door to the lower level, she managed to get free of his grip while he unlocked it. She didn’t run. She wouldn’t. Pressing herself against the wall, she stared at him.
He leveled her with a blazing glare that burned her soul. “Megara. Downstairs.”
“I’ll go.” She raised her chin. “But I swear to you, Henrik, I did not take those pills. I took them from my cousins, but I never once did anything to keep from conceiving your child.” She laid her hand to her stomach. “I told you I believed our child should be made from love. And if I were pregnant right this moment, it would be.” Her voice shook, but she forged on.
Henrik raised his brow. “Don’t.”
“I said I’d never lied to you, but I was wrong. I did. Once.” She rose a trembling finger. “When I said I would never love you, that was a lie, because…Henrik, as wrong as it might be, I do.”
Henrik’s jaw clenched, giving off a little tick in his cheek.
Several long moments stretched in crushing silence.
Slowly, Henrik opened the door and jerked his head toward the opening. Her heart plummeted and shattered. He didn’t believe her.
Or worse—didn’t care. It was as though there was wall building around his heart again. The softness she’d seen over the last days gone. The Henrik she’s come to know was gone. In his place a cold shell, as though an evil force snapped its spell back in place around his heart.
With steady steps, she climbed down the stairs. He followed behind silently. When she came to the third door on her right, he stopped her with a touch to her shoulder, opened the door, and pointed for her to get inside.
She sucked in a shaky breath, not bothering to hide the tears burning a line down her cheek as she walked inside her cell.
As quietly as he’d followed her, he closed the door. The deadbolt snapped into place, echoing in the small chamber.
But she stood alone.
She’d told him she loved him.
And he
locked her away in the cellar.
29
His chest ached. Henrik rubbed the spot in his pec, but it didn’t improve things. By the time he reached his office, he wanted a bottle of scotch to drown in for a few hours.
Megara’s broken sob, her tearful eyes, the confession of her true feelings—it had been too much for him to bear. He’d been so angry seeing those pills in her drawer, sure she had knowingly betrayed him. All the things she’d said about wanting their child to come from a place of love and not duty, he’d thought she was making it up—a good actress to cover up what she was really doing.
If she kept him from having a child, she kept him from ever gaining his legitimate spot in his father’s line.
But the way she’d broken down, begged him to believe her…he’d never seen her so vulnerable, so raw. Even when he’d forced her, taken what wasn’t his from her, she hadn’t begged and pleaded the way she had then. She’d put up a wall, but now, it seemed everything she had was laid out for him to either scoop up and cradle or stomp over and destroy.
A pounding began behind his eyes. Too much for one night. He’d leave it until morning. The sunrise would bring answers.
The door to his office opened, intruding on Henrik’s quiet. He spun the chair around to face the door, stilling at the sight before him.
Haden stood in the doorway, taking up most of it with his height.
“Henrik.” He smiled and gave an incline of his head.
Henrik bounded from his chair. “Haden, what are you doing here?”
“My nephew gets married and I’m not expected at the celebration?” he asked with a playful grin.
“Castor didn’t mention you’d be coming.”
“I asked him not to. I have business with your father.” Haden stepped into the room, looking around. “You know, my father used to make Jackson and me sit in here for hours playing chess. Said we needed to learn strategy and the skills of our enemies.” He stopped near a table where the marble chess board still sat, the same pieces Henrik’s grandfather had left behind. “I didn’t know it at the time, of course, that he meant for us to watch and learn the skill of each other.”
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 19
