Chapter 2
The bedroom door burst open before I could dwell on my thoughts any further. Slightly drenched from the rain, Ashton strode inside without sparing me a glance, heading straight for the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the silence.
His presence made it impossible for me to drift back to sleep. Resigning myself to wakefulness, I slipped out of bed and changed into fresh clothes. Pulling a set of his pajamas from the wardrobe, I placed them by the bathroom door before stepping onto the balcony.
The monsoon season had set in, and a light drizzle misted the night air. The sky was dark, and the rhythmic patter of rain against the bricks lent a somber atmosphere to the already lonely night.
A sound behind me made me turn. Ashton had emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Water dripped from his damp hair, trickling down the hard planes of his chest in glistening rivulets.
Noticing my gaze, he frowned slightly. “Come here,” he commanded, his voice as emotionless as ever.
I stepped forward instinctively, catching the towel he tossed in my direction. “Dry my hair,” he ordered.
I had long since grown used to his domineering ways. As he sat at the edge of the bed, I climbed onto it, kneeling behind him to towel his hair dry.
“Grandpa’s funeral is tomorrow. We should head over to the family home early,” I reminded him. My words weren’t meant as conversation; I simply worried he would forget, too preoccupied with Rebecca as he always was.
He grunted in response, offering no further comment.
Knowing he had no intention of speaking more, I fell silent, focusing on drying his hair. Once finished, I lay back down, preparing to sleep.
Lately, exhaustion overtook me easily—something I attributed to the pregnancy. Normally, Ashton would leave for his study after showering, staying there until midnight. But tonight, he surprised me by slipping under the covers instead.
Confused, I held back my questions. Yet before I could process the shift in routine, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. A feather-light kiss brushed against my lips.
Stunned, I lifted my eyes to his. “Ashton, I’m…”
“Unwilling?” His dark eyes glinted, laced with an unreadable emotion—desire mixed with something more primal.
I averted my gaze. The truth was, I was unwilling. But my feelings had never mattered.
“Can you be gentle?” I murmured, my hand instinctively resting on my abdomen. The baby was only six weeks along, and the risk of miscarriage was high.
His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Then, without warning, he flipped me beneath him, his touch rough and unyielding. Pain lanced through me, my body instinctively curling in an attempt to shield the fragile life within me.
Outside, the rain intensified, mirroring the turmoil in my heart. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the dim room in stark flashes. Thunder followed, rumbling through the silence. When it was finally over, Ashton rose and disappeared into the bathroom.
I lay motionless, drenched in a cold sweat. The pain throbbed in waves, but I pushed aside the thought of taking painkillers, unwilling to risk harming the baby.
A sudden ringing broke through the stillness. I turned my head toward the bedside table—Ashton’s phone. A glance at the clock told me it was past eleven.
Rebecca. Who else would call him at such an hour?
The sound of running water ceased, and moments later, Ashton emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around his waist. He wiped his hands dry before reaching for his phone.
I couldn’t hear the words from the other end, but I saw his brows knit together. “Rebecca, stop fooling around,” he said sharply before ending the call.
He wasted no time getting dressed. In the past, I would have turned a blind eye to it. But tonight, something in me shifted. As he reached for the door, I grabbed his arm, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can you stay tonight?”
He turned to me, frowning. Irritation flickered across his handsome features. “Did I pleasure you so much that you’ve started acting out?”
His words were dripping with mockery.
For a moment, I was stunned by the absurdity of it all. Then, taking a steady breath, I met his gaze and said evenly, “It’s Grandpa’s funeral tomorrow. Even if you can’t bear to leave her, shouldn’t you at least show some restraint?”
His expression darkened, eyes narrowing. “Are you threatening me?” His fingers gripped my chin, his voice dropping into something low and dangerous. “You’ve grown a spine, Scarlett Stovall.”