Page 15 of Beautiful Scar

So why do I keep wanting to spare her feelings?

I shove down this protectiveness and lean toward her. She shrinks back slightly as I let my guard fall completely.

No softness. Nothing gentle.

This is who I am: a brutal thug.

“What are you trying to tell me, Tigran?” she whispers, her hand trembling slightly as she pours herself more champagne.

“By the end of the year, I have to get you pregnant, or else the alliance means nothing.”

“What?!” She turns, spilling champagne all over the table. It trickles down into her lap, and she jumps to her feet, brushing it away. “Oh, shoot, shoot, darn it, shoot.”

That girl’s so buttoned-up she can’t even curse properly.

“Let me help.” I grab a towel from the bathroom and go to wipe her off.

“I can handle it,” she says, swiping it from me. There’s a furious note under her voice. “What are you talking about, you have to get me pregnant?”

“I told you, our families have a long history of very bad blood. Our marriage is one step toward ending all that, but it isn’t enough. We need to prove that we’re long-term, and that’s where babies come in.”

“Babies,” she says, slumping back down into her chair. She throws back her glass of champagne and tosses the towel onto the table. “How many babies?”

“Only one.”

“Great. Just one.” She squeezes her eyes closed. “I can’t believe this.”

“There are other families that want to see our alliance fail. The Irish and the Italians most of all. They stand to lose if we can suddenly muscle into their territory. The baby will ensure that, no matter what happens, our two families are tied together forever.”

She hunches into herself. I’m tempted to go comfort her, but I hold back. Rip off the bandage. Get her used to the idea from the start. I’m not going to be her father and lie to her about this deal.

I don’t want kids. Never wanted a baby once in my life. I’m not the kind of man that would make a good father. My own dad was a piece of shit who brutally abused my brother, Arsen, and treated me like an afterthought at best. There’s not an ounce of anything nurturing in me.

But this has to happen. It doesn’t matter if I like it, and it doesn’t matter if she hates it. We’re going to make a baby sometime in the next twelve months.

I hate the way she’s staring at the floor, though. I can’t blame her for being fucked up. This day’s been bad enough already, and I just dropped a nuclear bomb on her life.Surprise, you’re married, and now you’d better be ready to get impregnated by a stranger.

That protective instinct flares again, even though I try to shove it back down. I open my mouth before I think about it.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” I say, trying to make my voice soothing. “We make the baby. We go through with it, get you pregnant, make everyone happy. And then, after the baby’s born, you can move back to Philly. I won’t force you to stay in Baltimore. Move back in with your father if you want.”

She raises her face to me. Her eyes are watery, and it’s clear she’s fighting tears. “Why?” she croaks. “Why offer that?”

“Because you didn’t ask for any of this. We can do our duty, but we don’t owe them anything else.”

“I don’t know. I can’t go back to my dad. Not after what he did.”

“Then I’ll buy you a fortress you never, ever have to leave, as comfortable as you want it, back in your own hometown. Raise the baby there with a fleet of nannies. We’ll split the baby’s time when they’re older. We’ll figure it out. But if you do this, I’ll let you go.”

She hugs herself. Pretty and small, and all I want to do is make her feel better. But that’s not me. I should be crushing her,dominating her, making her understand that she’s my wife and she’ll do what I say.

Instead, I want to keep her safe.

I must be broken.

“Let me think about it,” she says, sounding hoarse. She pushes up from the table. “I’m going to bed.”

I want to tell her there’s nothing to think about. This is happening whether she likes it or not. But I decide to keep my mouth shut.

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