"You look exquisite tonight," he said, his voice warm, almost too smooth, as if the words themselves were wrapped in honey. But you knew better than to take them at face value. You had been here long enough to understand the emptiness behind his compliments.

You both knew the game you were playing. The contract that bound you had been clear from the beginning. You had agreed to bear his child, and now he had his eyes fixed on the prize an heir, his legacy, and a child who could eclipse the one his cousin Cedric had just birthed.

"How fortunate I am," Dorian continued, his tone barely changing, "to have found someone like you." He stepped around the chair you were sitting in and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch lingering just a moment too long for comfort. "A perfect mother for my heir."

You didn’t flinch, even though you wanted to. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you like this, and it wasn’t the first time you’d felt the weight of his manipulation in every word. You knew exactly why he was speaking to you this way. It wasn’t because he cared for you, it was because he was desperate for a child, and he needed you to fulfill that role.

"I’ve been thinking," Dorian mused, circling behind you like a predator, his voice drifting to your ear. "Cedric’s child has caused quite a stir, hasn't it? You must see it too, the power that child holds. But what we both know is that our child will be... far more powerful." His fingers lightly grazed the back of your neck.

He wanted you to conceive quickly, to bear him a son or daughter, someone stronger than Cedric's offspring, someone who would help him finally claim the power he’d always craved. The truth was, this partnership was a one-way street. Dorian didn’t care for you as a person, he cared about what you could give him. And right now, that was a child. His child.