08.

Riley’s POV

It's been two days since the incident. It's been two days since I've been stuck in this mansion, reliving the embarrassing night in Mr. King's room.

I still cringe thinking about it—him seeing my left nipple, my panic attack kicking like a maniac. Ugh, just the memory of it makes me want to hide under a rock.

But, unfortunately, I'm still here, and they won't let me leave. Ryder says it's for my protection, but I'm starting to think it's just an excuse to keep me prisoner.

How is it for my safety? That’s a question Ryder isn’t willing to answer.

I’ve been checking on my phone, a part of me hopeful that maybe Asher would reach out, but every minute I wait makes me feel more stupid and heartbroken than the other.

He was done with me; he is with Amber now and their child.

My hands rubbed on my baby bump, shutting my eyes momentarily, knowing the child was the only thing I had left.

I sighed, standing in front of the microwave, waiting for my leftover lasagna to warm up. I'd been wanting to leave this place since the moment I arrived, but it seemed like no one was listening to me.

Everyone keeps referring to me as Mrs. King.

It gets frustratingly annoying every time.

As I waited, I started humming a song, swaying my hips to the beat. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, too caught up in my little world.

That's when I turned around, bumping into a hard chest. I stumbled backward almost losing balance but felt a hand wrapped around my waist keeping me steady until I looked up and saw Mr. King's chiseled face staring back at me.

My heart skipped a beat. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I remembered the embarrassing night in his room. I tried to step back, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot.

His hold is making my legs wobbly.

"Riley," Mr. King said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. "I see you're fun."

I gulped a lump, tearing my stare away before nodding, still trying to process the fact that he was standing in front of me, looking all brooding and handsome.

Ugh!

God, what was the matter with me?

“Mr. King,” I say, biting at the tip of my tongue, not expecting to see him.

My eyes widened, pushing back from his grip and trailing my eyes to his wound; it looked better than the other night.

For the record, I’m starting to believe that Mr. King has the courtesy of staying shirtless.

This is pure torment.

He chuckled, snapping me out of my train of thought. I look away from his muscles shyly, tugging a strand of hair behind my ear.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the embarrassment crawling up my skin.

Mr. King raised an eyebrow. "I live here, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, I remember. I just meant...what are you doing in the kitchen?"

“I came to grab a bottle of water and met with an entertaining sight, so I indulged,” he teases.

I bit my cheek, wishing the ground could split open and accommodate me away from this embarrassment.

“Right, how’s your wound?” I asked.

“I’m better now, and thank you.”

I waved it off, “It’s nothing. But—“ I paused.

His brows furrowed, “Go on, what is it?”

“I’d like to leave. I appreciate your fidelity, but I think I’ve overstayed my boundaries now,” I say, and just in time, the microwave dinged.

His expression turned stone-cold as though I had said something wrong.

He ran his hand through his hair, his muscles stretching, and I couldn’t help but bite on my lower lip, trying as hard as I could to take my eyes off him.

“Your food is ready; I’ll leave you to it.” He says turning on his shoe to leave, but he is paused halfway by a middle-aged woman that popped out of nowhere.

“There you are, I thought I had to meet you in the office,” she says, squashing him into a bone-crushing hug.

He grunts, and she pulls back instantly, her brows drawing together before her eyes trail to the wound.

“What happened here?”

He shrugs, “It’s nothing, Mum. It’s barely a bruise.”

She didn’t look like she bought it, pausing momentarily before my presence registered to her.

Her face fell into a frown but instantly lit up as she marched my way; I had to look back and be sure I was the only one.

Before I could register what was happening, I was enfolded into a bone-crushing hug. “And I finally get to meet my beautiful daughter-in-law.”

I gasped at the mention of my daughter-in-law; the feeling of the motherly hug still lingered as I pulled back. I hadn’t felt that way for years; the last time was when I hugged my dead mother before she was buried.

“You’re even more beautiful than you were—“

Were?

She shared a knowing look with Mr. King before proceeding, “In pictures, photos don’t do justice to you.”

I forced a smile. “Thank you, but I think—“

“Mum, why don’t I leave you with your daughter-in-law?” Mr. King says, sending me a wink.

“Well, of course, we have a lot to do before the wedding. We have so little time, but that won’t be a problem; Anna will be coming in with the designer responsible for the wedding dress. I have booked the best wedding team, so you two worry not,” his mom assures.

Wedding?

What the hell is going on?

Mr. King smirked, “That I can count on you, but please, Mum, take it easy on my wife and child.”

I gasped.