Page 40 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

Elio’s eyes eat up the sight of my bare skin hungrily, and I can practically feel them on my skin like a physical touch. I shiver, hungry for him in spite of myself.

“You are still so beautiful,” he says to me softly, his eyes lingers on the curve of my breasts peeking out above the cups of my bra.

“Did you expect I would have grown ugly in just seven years?” I inquire, straightening my shoulders a little and pressing my breasts forward subtly.

He laughs, the sound sweet to my ears. “I don’t know what I expected,” he admits. “You were frozen in my mind as a young girl. You might have gotten fat, or grown tired from being a single parent locked up in hiding.”

I frown a little. “Well, if you were really worried about that outcome, you would have been more thoughtful toward me all along,” I say, taking my turn.

I was hoping to feel anger, but mostly I just felt sadness at the truth in my words. Elio is wearing down my resolve to be furious with him.

Maybe this is why people are always giving in to the devil in biblical writings. The charm of this man is criminal and my susceptibility to it is a significant threat to my plans to try and save myself and my son from a life as pawns of Elio and men like him.

“Why did you go to Marco?” he asks me as I am reading the directions for my turn from the card in my hand.

I glance at him over the dog-eared cardboard. “Who else should I have gone to for help?” I ask him.

He frowns a little at my words. “Well, despite the fact that I wish you would have come to me, why didn’t you go to your parents for help?”

I snort derisively. “You think my parents would have been sympathetic to my unhappiness with our engagement? And with me pregnant, do you think anyone would have prevented you from marrying me, even over my dead body?”

He has the good grace to look a little disheartened at my words because he recognizes the truth in them. I finish taking my turn and point at him. “Off with some more clothing,” I order him.

He flashes me a grin and rises off the bed so that he can slip out of his pants. I slide my eyes away from his package, resisting the urge to lick my lips at the sight of him.

His tight boxer briefs offer the barest concealment of his most intimate self, and my fingers are itching to get him out of them. I’m not sure when this evening shifted for me, but I know already that I want to give in to him and let him fuck me senseless.

“Oh, look,” Elio says merrily as he finishes his turn. “I got another point.”

I allow a small smile to tuck itself into the corner of my mouth and I rise from the bed to slither out of my tight jeans.

My lace thong is also borrowed, which means that it is a bit too small for me. I know that the lips of my pussy are just peeking out around it, and I feel a moment of intense pleasure when I see Elio’s eyes catch on the sight and linger.

He lifts his heated gaze to my eyes, and his mouth softens into the ghost of a smile.

“Borrowed as well, I see,” he tells me, nodding to my underwear.

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Prisoners can’t be choosers,” I say airily.

“Your turn,” he tells me, and I take a cautious seat on the bed again. I feel like all I need to do is shift the tiniest amount and I will be fully bared to him.

I take my turn, and I’m so distracted that I barely register that I have to take off another article of clothing once I have completed it. I glance at Elio, so close, yet so far away.

“Enough of this game,” I say to him, my voice husky. “I’ll let you pick between bra and panties if you answer a question. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

His dark gaze is locked on mine, the heat of it searing through me. “Ask it,” he says, his tone silky smooth, tinged with danger.

I swallow hard, the sound audible in the silence between us. “Did you mean what you said on the phone that day?” I ask him.

His brows draw down over his eyes as he tries to figure out what I mean. “Which day?” he asks.

My heart is beating so fast it feels like it might burst. “The day I ran away. You said you’d leave me behind. That I was an inconvenience. Did you mean it?”

I have no idea why I’m asking him this. He could easily lie, or he could answer that he did mean it, and the result will be the same.

How can I expect the truth from a man who tells lies for a living?

Sudden understanding flares to life in his expression. He sits up abruptly, his shoulders tense. “That’s why you left?” he asks, incredulously. “You heard me on the phone saying I would leave you behind me after you were pregnant and you left?”

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