Chapter Eight
Stephanie's point of view
That finger crept upward toward my ankle, pressing with a rough, possessive touch that made my body shudder beneath the robe. I snapped my eyes open in panic, only to be met by two cold, grey eyes.
Cedric was sitting on the edge of the bed with utter calmness, his massive shadow completely enveloping me.
"You are a very heavy sleeper, Stephanie... so much so that I could have done many things to you without you even noticing," he said in a husky, masculine voice that made my stomach knot tightly.
I pulled my foot back quickly, tucking it under the duvet, and sat up while clutching the collar of my robe to my neck, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "What are you doing here? Didn't someone teach you to knock?"
He tilted his head, raking a scrutinizing gaze over my face, then leaned toward me until our eyes locked.
He whispered roughly, "In my house... there are no closed doors to the Devil. Especially the doors that lead to what I own."
He slowly extended his hand toward my stomach, covered by the robe, and I felt my abdominal muscles reflexively tense under his touch, while he fixed his eyes on mine in a silent challenge.
In a calm, bone-chilling voice, he asked, "Is my child well?"
I brushed his hand away from my body with a swift movement, feeling the cold air replace the heat of his palm. I said tersely, "Fine."
He stood up from the edge of the bed, his hulking frame blocking out the light. "It's time for dinner... come."
"I have no appetite," I said, clutching the duvet around me like a shield.
He replied in an authoritative tone that brooked no argument: "Change your clothes and come."
I lifted my head defiantly, my voice trembling slightly. "And I am telling you, I have no appetite."
He stepped closer again, leaning down until his face was level with mine, and whispered in a sharp tone, "Don't make me repeat myself, Stephanie."
He walked out of the room, leaving me struggling with my emotions. I forced myself up, feeling a heaviness in my limbs.
I headed toward the wardrobe and swung open its massive doors to find them filled with luxurious clothes all of which were my exact size with suspicious precision.
I chose a short black dress, dried my hair in a hurry, put it on, and headed downstairs with hesitant steps.
A massive table stretched across the center of the hall, laden with every delicacy imaginable.
He was sitting at the head of the table with his usual aura of authority. He gestured with his hand to the chair beside him and said, "Come, sit."
I approached slowly and sat down, glancing quickly at the dishes, silently thanking God that there was no chicken on the table to trigger my nausea. The maid stepped forward and asked kindly, "Miss, what shall I serve you?"
The roasted steak appealed to my appetite, so I said, "The steak, please, and some salad."
She placed the food on my plate and served it to me, and I began to eat in silence.
Cedric was eating as well, and we sank into a heavy stillness broken only by the sound of utensils. After I finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth and said stoically, "Tomorrow, we will go to the doctor to check on your pregnancy."
"I've already gone, and my child is fine," I said, trying to object.
"I know," he said coldly.
I replied in surprise, tension creeping through my nerves. "How do you know?"
He looked at me with those unreadable grey eyes and said, "Do you think I didn't realize you weren't the girl I was supposed to be fucking at that bar?"
I stared at him in stunned silence, possessed by a mixture of resentment and curiosity.
I asked in a low voice, "If you knew... why did you have sex with me?"
He leaned back, placing his palms coldly on the table. "I should ask you that question... why didn't you object?"
I felt the tension gnawing at my nerves and became completely flustered, rubbing my hands together beneath the table. "I was afraid," I said, trying to justify it.
He raised a single eyebrow, looking at me skeptically. "Afraid? Really?"
"Yes," I insisted, my voice shaking. "And you why didn't you leave me?"
He said in a decisive tone, "Even though you lied to me, I will answer you frankly."
I felt the insult sting my pride, but I remained silent as he continued. "I don't like redheads, and I told you this. The one I requested was blonde."
I brushed stray strands of hair back with trembling hands and said, "No one is forcing you to love red hair."
He ignored my comment and continued as if enjoying my embarrassment. "That's why it wasn't hard to know you weren't the requested girl. But seeing you in that leather dress... I won't lie, it made my dick hard."
I fell completely silent in the face of his absolute and vulgar bluntness, while he continued: "But what piqued my curiosity was that you said nothing. I touched you as a test to see if you would object or not."
My face flushed with shame. My God... he was testing me while I stayed silent and let him do everything! He said with lethal coldness, "The problem isn't just that you didn't object; you pleaded with me to touch you, to fuck you."
I couldn't bear to hear any more. I pushed the chair back so violently it made a sharp screech against the marble, and I stood up screaming, "That's enough! Are you trying to insult me?"
"Calm down," he said with terrifying calmness, gesturing with his hand. "I'm only telling you what happened. Didn't you ask me to tell you how I found out about your pregnancy?"
Despite my raging anger and lack of any excuse to defend myself, I sat back down because curiosity was eating at me to know the truth. I said curtly, "Fine... go on."
He said, "You told me your name, and after that, I did my research and tasked someone with watching you."
My eyes widened. "You were watching me?" I asked, stunned.
He replied matter-of-factly, "Yes, and I knew you went to that bar dozens of times looking for me."
Shame flooded me again, so I said defensively, "I wasn't looking for you; I was just going out for the night."
He smiled mockingly. "Going out?! And leaving only after you asked about me?"
I could no longer bear to face his exposure of my secrets, so I said sharply, "Get to the point."
He spoke with a mysterious smile: "I learned that you went to a gynecologist.
When the man assigned to watch you went to ask about you, the doctor told him you were pregnant."
"A doctor doesn't give out patient information! That's against the law!" I said, aghast.
He shrugged indifferently. "Money buys the law, darling."
I looked at him defiously and said, "And what made you so sure it's yours? Maybe it's another man's son."
He fixed his grey gaze on my eyes and said, "I did my research on you, Stephanie... the last time you were in a relationship was a year and a half ago. Is that correct?"
My mouth hung open in shock. How did he know this private and precise information? I whispered, "Who are you? How do you know everything? And how did you know I was getting married?"
He said, recalling, "What was her name... ah, I remember. Valentina, your sister, told me your father was marrying you off."
I gasped in horror. "What? Valentina? How do you know her?"
"I don't," he said simply. "But I caught her in the street and threatened her a little, so she told me everything... she told me you were pregnant and didn't know the father because you hadn't seen him."
I recoiled, looking at him as if he were a literal monster. "Who are you, for heaven's sake?" I asked, a tremor in my voice.
He tilted his head and said coldly, "I told you... I am the Devil."