Page 68 of Sinful Beauty

Why is she looking so angry? She’s looking at me like I’ve done something to her. Like she needs to protect Lucia, but Lucia and I haven’t argued. Ever.

The door creaks open. The skin below Lucia’s eyes is swollen, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I push through the doorway, the takeaway bag looped around two fingers. “Have you got a fever?”

“Lucia, sweets, are you okay?” Annoyance flashes at the nosy woman, but I step aside to let Lucia deal with her. Why is the landlady inserting herself? I set the food on the counter as the door clicks closed.

“I brought you food. Why haven’t you responded to my text? Are you that sick?”

She places her hand over her stomach and walks backward until her calves hit the mattress. She looks dazed.

“How high is your fever? Have you seen a doctor?”

I step forward, but something in her teary gaze stops me. A tear streams down her cheek.

“Did something happen at work?” Was she late getting into the office? Did Peltz fire her? He wouldn’t. He values her far too much.

“I’m…”

The crying muffles her words. “What?”

Why is she crying? “Lucia. Look at me. I can’t hear you when you speak to the floor.”

What the hell? If that prick fired her?—

“I’m pregnant.” Tears soak her face.

I back up and grip the back of my neck. That’s not something… my shoes thud across her floor. Past the curtain hanging over her toilet is the sink and I see the plastic test, sitting on trash.

No. I can’t have a child. Lucia doesn’t know what I do. No one here knows what I do. My body count is in the double digits. It’s unknown because I stopped counting. And I don’t feel remorse. I am not a family man.

“You don’t…I don’t expect anything from you.”

I grit my teeth, hearing her but discounting every single word. She’s clearly planning on having it. I can’t confirm her intentions without coming across like a total wanker. My palm covers an eye and a deep throbbing behind my eye socket aches.Jesus fucking christ.

“You told me you were on birth control.” The muscles in my jaw burn from how hard I’m gritting my teeth.

“I am. I even took a pill this morning. I didn’t know.”

I need air. I’m going to say something I can’t take back. My peripheral vision blurs and words don’t exist for the crap?—

She sobs. That’s the last straw. I can’t take it. I slam the door behind me and charge down the stairs. Outside, Emelia greets me. Her accusatory glare chastises more harshly than words ever could.

I’m a fucking asshole. The worst kind of fucking monster. I should be upstairs, consoling Lucia. And I fucking know it, but I take off down the street. I get what I want, and I never wanted a child.

I’m blocks away and who knows on what fucking street when my phone rings and I answer it automatically as all thoughts, and therefore caution, are on hiatus. I’m numb.

“I can’t believe this.” My mother’s voice has me stopping in the middle of a sidewalk.How the fuck does she know? The landlady. My mum?Did Lucia call my mother? “You’re seeing the assistant. Peltz’s assistant. Your boss’s assistant.” Her voice grows incrementally louder with each accusation.

Denial rests on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t fucking deny it because she might have a grandchild arriving in nine months. Fury laps the edges of sanity.

“Who told you?” Not that it’s any of her business. Then I remember lunch. “Dad told you?” The fucking twit.

“Of course, he told me. We’re married. We tell each other everything. You know this.”

Oh, my fucking god. Of course they tell each other everything. They even tell each other who they fuck.

“You need to stop seeing her. I mean it Tristan.”

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