Chapter 398 400

Chapter 398 400
“Except that you’re in our world,” Kian points out. “And the only way to survive it is think like us.”

“Are you like him then, Kian?” I ask bitterly.

“You tell me, Renata.”

I meet his gaze, even though I don’t want to. Maybe he’s not pushing me at all. Maybe he’s just trying to teach me.

“Ms. Renata,” one of the guards calls out, taking a step forward. “Your time is up.”

Kian raises his eyebrows. “He agreed to let you see me?”

“I can be persuasive.”

He smiles. “You’re learning.”

I put my fingers back against the partition. “They are treating you better, aren’t they?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Ms. Renata!”

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I snap. I glance over my shoulder and then back at Kian. “I’ll try and find a way to get you out of here.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says immediately. “I’m being guarded twenty-four-seven. It’s not safe, Renata. You will get caught. Stay out of trouble. My men are coming.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It’s what I would do for any of them.”

Somehow, I can’t imagine Rokiades would say the same for his men.

“I have to go,” I say sadly.

His fingertips brush mine through the grille. The touch makes my heart shiver against my ribcage. I feel my stomach twitch, too. It’s probably a mental trigger and nothing more, but it feels so real to me. The life we’ve created stands between us. It gives the strength I never knew I needed. Maybe he needs it, too.

I want to tell him. Your child is right here, Kian.

But I don’t. I can’t. Not yet.

“Be safe,” Kian says gently.

I wish he’d listen if I tell him to do the same.

51

Kian

Kian’s Cell—One Day Later

I’m lying on the hard mattress of my bed when I hear approaching footsteps. I jump up instantly, wondering if it’s Renata again.

My head has been filled with nothing but thoughts of her ever since her visit yesterday. She’d been dressed better than the last time I saw her, in long pants and a flowing white sweater that covered most of her skin. She still looked so thin, though. And there was something deep and dark in her eyes that’s haunted me in the hours after she left.

The partition is locked from the outside, so I have no idea who’s on the other side of the door. “Move back,” a deep voice booms.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and wait. The bolt unlatches. The door opens. For a moment, my breath catches in my chest.

But the silhouette that slinks into my room is definitely not who I was expecting.

It’s not Renata. This woman is much shorter, much curvier. She moves like someone who knows the power her femininity has over men. She slinks around to draw the eye to her tiny waist, her tossing hips.

When she steps into the light, I get a better look at her. Her thick blonde hair cascades down her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a corset that has her breasts pushed up almost to her chin and a miniskirt that she might as well have forgone entirely for all the good it does in keeping her assets clothed.

The moment she’s inside, the door closes behind her—but the partition stays open.

She gives me a sultry smile. “My, my, you are much more handsome than they told me.”

She’s got the faintest hint of a Greek accent, but it’s almost entirely buried under the American twang that probably took her years to perfect.

I lean back against the cool wall and eye her calmly. “And who are you?”

“Anyone you want me to be, honey.”

I roll my eyes. “I think you have the wrong cell.”

She shakes her head. Even that manages to be sultry. The woman is good at what she does—whatever that is.

She glides forward, making sure to shake her hips for my benefit on the way. She settles at opposite corner of the bed, which puts her only a couple of inches away from me. Her skirt rides up higher as she crosses her legs, exposing the milky whiteness of her inner thighs.

When she’s settled in place, she reaches out and runs a finger down my chest. I slap her hand away and sigh impatiently.

“Do you have a name?” I sigh.

She looks shocked by the rejection, but she tries to recover fast. “Do you care?”

“That’s the only reason I’m asking.”

“Lotus.”

“Your real name.”

The flirty smile on her face falters ever so slightly. “Helena.”

“Helena,” I nod appreciatively. “Pretty.”

She tries to pivot off the compliment and back into character. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asks.

I smile politely. Then, smile plastered in place, I say, “No.”

“No?” she repeats, her own smile faltering.

“You’re not my type, Helena. Not your fault.”

“What is your type?” she asks, trying hard to play the game despite the curveballs I’m throwing her.

“The type who isn’t trying to fuck confessions out of me.”

She giggles like I made a joke, though I’m not stupid enough to pretend this is anything other than a trap. “That’s not what I’m trying to do!”

“No?” I ask. “Who sent you in here to seduce me?”

She stays silent.

I smile. “Come on now, Helena. Let’s be honest with one another. You’re not here because you want to be, are you?”

“Of course I am,” she says robotically.

But really, what the hell else is she supposed to say? “What does Rokiades want from me?” I ask. “Just tell me and I’ll answer. Simple as that.”

“Nothing.”

My hand darts out suddenly, giving her no warning. She lets out a strangled little scream just as my fingers enclose around her throat. Her eyes bug out a little as I tighten gently. They’re grey, with little speckles of blue. Watery. Dull.

“I’ll ask again: why did he send you in here?”

“I… I don’t know… He… he told me to come to you and…”

“Seduce me?”

She nods desperately. I release her neck and she gasps, before backing away from me just a little.

“He didn’t say anything more?”

“No,” she says shakily. “I just follow orders. I don’t ask questions.”

I raise my eyebrows and she looks into her lap self-consciously. When she looks back up again, I can tell she’s going to make another attempt at salvaging the situation.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed, though,” she says. “You are a very handsome man. It makes a nice change from some of the others I’m sent to.”

“Is that right?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

She doesn’t seem to read too much into it. In fact, she seems to take that as encouragement. She swings off the bed and lands on her knees in front of me. The move is smooth and her expression turns confident.

Her breasts are right in front of me now. The corset is tight and so low, that I can almost make out the small nubs of her nipples.

The thing is, it does nothing for me. My cock remains completely apathetic to the sight.

“Get up,” I tell her impatiently.

A sliver of pride flits across her eyes. Not a woman who’s used to handling rejection. I’m probably the first man who’s ever turned her down.