Darius didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed the room in a few strides and pulled me toward him. The suddenness of his touch made my skin crawl. I stiffened as he leaned in, trying to kiss me. I dodged, turning my head just in time.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered quickly, stepping back. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”
He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Clara reported back to me.”
My pulse quickened, and my nerves went haywire.
Clara—what did she tell him? Did he know? The thought of him finding out about the miscarriage made my stomach twist. He didn’t deserve to know. He didn’t deserve that truth.
“What did she say?” I asked, feigning calm, though my heart pounded in my chest.
“That you only have a few non-life-threatening bruises.”
A small, relieved breath escaped me.
He didn’t know. Thank Goddess.
I quickly scrambled for a reason to keep him at bay. “It’s not my injuries,” I said, forcing a casual tone. “I’m on my period. I really can’t tonight.” I glanced at him, hoping that would be enough. He had seen me bleeding earlier—it wasn’t a complete lie.