Page 4 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

“And if I don’t?”

The corners of his mouth turn up with an unpleasant smile. “Then I’ll give our father the grandchild he so desperately wants.” He jerks his head down the hallway from which we came. “You heard the old man back there. You know it would take nothing for me to grant his wish.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Alessandro has always had too much time on his hands, most of which is spent in women’s beds instead of making himself useful. Unlike me, who hardly finds the time for such pleasures.

It’s quite obvious that needs to change.

“May the best man win, brother,” I mutter, stabbing the down button again.

Alessandro scoffs. “For fuck’s sake, use that half-dead brain and think for a moment—”

Within a heartbeat, my hand is around his throat, and I have him pinned against the wall. I’m half a foot taller and outweigh him by twenty pounds or more. He’s no match for me, and he knows it. Continuing to goad and challenge me is stupid at best and deadly at worst.

“If I were you,” I murmur, “I’d go easy on those insults. You’re already living on a fucking prayer,brother.”

As Alessandro’s eyes bulge and desperate gurgling sounds erupt from his throat, I give him a shove, bouncing his head off the wall with a thump before I release my grip. He slumps to the floor just as the elevator doors slide open. In a few moments I’m inside the comforting solitude of my car, gunning the engine. With a squeal of rubber, I speed up the exit ramp and leave the realm of the Rossi empire behind to enter the real world, the land of the living rather than the living dead.

Chapter Three

Nicoletta

I hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. The slinky black dress hugs her body like a second skin, tiny sparkles in the fabric twinkling in the muted lamplight of the room. The bodice bares her shoulders and lifts her small, rounded breasts into two tight mounds, creating a tantalizing cleavage between them. The skirt stretches snugly across her hips, miraculously transforming her copious thighs into voluptuous, sexy curves.

Stiletto heels accentuate her shapely calves, and her porcelain-pale, flawless face is framed by flowing, jet black curls that tumble down over her nude shoulders. I smile, and she smiles back. Because she’s me. Damn, I look badass, even the parts of me I’m not so proud of. The finishing touch is a coat of candy-floss pink lipstick, and it looks so good I want to kiss myself. But I’m running out of time.

Katie will be here soon, and I have to make sure I’m at the staff entrance at the back of the house to meet her. I toss my lipstick and phone into a matching black clutch purse and take a deep breath. I’m taking a big risk dipping out on my own engagement party like this; father will be furious, I’m sure. I’ve decided to ask Katie if I can stay with her tonight and avoid the fallout of his wrath, at least until tomorrow. But first things first. I have to get out of this house without being seen. It’s now or never.

I leave the safety of my room and step into the hallway. The thick carpet dulls the sound of my killer heels as I walk toward the grand stairs that lead to the main floor. Unfortunately, a carpet runner covers only the center of the wide staircase, and in these shoes, I need to stick close to the handrail. Crashing headfirst onto the marble foyer would make far more noise than my spike heels on the stair treads. I step carefully down each one, putting weight on my toes to make as little noise as possible.

At last, I reach the bottom, and I can hear faint music coming from the direction of the ballroom. Good. The cocktail hour is in full swing; everyone will be too interested in their drinks to notice me ‘slipping out the back’. I skirt around the edge of the foyer and slip through the doors leading to the kitchen and housekeeping wing.

I exhale in relief. Ahead is a long, low-ceilinged corridor, stretching fifty yards or more. It reminds me of some underground tunnel that prisoners might escape through in a movie, and that’s not far from the truth. Today, it’s my personal route to freedom. All I have to do is turn right at the end, and I’ll be at the staff entry. I fight the urge to run the entire distance and force myself to walk steady, weight on my toes again. The tiled floor won’t muffle the sound of clicking heels.

As I near the kitchen doors, a cloud of steam wafts into the hall, along with the cacophony of clanging pots and pans. The chef is shouting orders to the kitchen staff. No doubt they are scrambling to get the dinner and appetizers ready for this great occasion. Little do they know the guest of honor is doing a runner right past their noses.

The steam helps obscure my movements as I slip by the kitchen doors. Just a few more yards, and I’ll be home free. My heart thumps wildly as I reach the end of the corridor and turn right but nearly stop cold at what I see waiting for me. Two armed guards are posted on either side of the exit, standing as solid as two stone statues. They come to life as I appear and grab me by the arms.

“What do you think you’re doing? Let me go,” I snarl, struggling to free myself from their burly grasp. “How dare you lay hands on me! I order you to let me pass.”

“We have different orders, miss,” one of them says.

I don’t have to guess from whom, but I’ll play the princess card anyway. “When my father hears about this, he’ll…”

“Oh, he has heard,” comes a familiar voice from behind me. “And unlike my daughter, these men follow orders.” The guards spin me around to face him. He stands there, as immutable and resolute as ever. The ultimate boss. My father, Giovanni Borelli. The look in his steely gray eyes is one of both condemnation and disappointment, but I refuse to wither in the intensity of that gaze. How did he know I would try to leave? And how did he get here so fast, I wonder? “You never order me not to leave,” I say in my defense.

“I shouldn’t have to,” he replies. “Your duty is to obey me and honor this family by accepting your responsibilities. So far, you’ve done neither.” He takes a step closer. “My sister wisely advised me of your refusal to attend the party tonight. Naturally, I took steps to ensure that you do.” He signals the guards to release me and holds out his hand. “Because if you don’t, you won’t be allowed outside of this house for a month. Except for school, which I’m paying for, I remind you.”

I’m beaten for the moment but not broken. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a Borelli, it’s to be sneaky, and I’ve learned it from the best. I can fake obedience for an hour or so and just text Katie to come later. I take my father’s hand.

“That’s much better,” he says, drawing me close and tucking my hand in the crook of his arm. “You look beautiful, my darling.”

“You’re such a cold-hearted—” I swallow the word ‘asshole’ as he leads me back the way I came.

“Yes, I am.” Daddy chuckles as if he knew what I was about to say. “That’s how you succeed in this business, my dear. Don’t forget it.”

We stop by the foyer, where the tall, slender man awaits me. Some would call my fiancé handsome, but that has no effect on me. In fact, I feel ill whenever I look at him. It’s not only what he did to me, either. It’s also the fact that he’s almost twice my age. Older men are not my cup of frappuccino.

His sickly smile greets me. I cringe as he takes my hand and kisses it. “Ah, my lovely bride. You look… ravishing.”

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