Page 1 of Forbidden Pregnancy
Prologue
Myra
Twelve years ago
I’m the oldest virgin I know.
Twenty-six years old, and I spent so much time working towards the honor roll, and scholarships, that I don’t think I’ve ever been alone in the same room as a man. I’ve reached the age where I can’t avoid how embarrassing it is that I don’t have the same life experiences as everyone else I know. I never had that “teenage love story”. The chubby black girl with glasses, bad skin, absolutely no athletic abilities or swag and the sex appeal of an old avocado didn’t exactly turn me into Miss Popular.
The past few weeks have been the closest I’ve come to spending any meaningful amount of time with a man my age, and even then, he’s a few years older than me, and definitely not interested. Michael Corsini went to my high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman and he dated seven girls his senior year before he went off to Syracuse to play football. I didn’t keep track of his Syracuse football career, but he still maintainshis incredible physique, making it almost impossible to focus on tutoring his younger sister while he’s in the room.
If I had known this job was working for one of Buffalo’s more infamous mob families… I probably would have still accepted. Tuition costs are through the roof and the hourly rate offered by the family on the tutoring website wasinsane.$150/hour for tutoring a kid in middle school is basically getting paid to have fun. I should have known there was a catch – having a hot but terrifying supervisor looming over us.
“Cosima, focus,” her brother growls. I sit up straighter at the sound of his voice. He makes me nervous, especially because he stares at me constantly, like he’s waiting for me to screw up royally. I guess they want to make sure they’re getting their money’s worth.
“This shit is boring.”
“You say that word again, I’ll smack your back molars out.”
My back tightens. I’ve had to get used to the strange culture in this household, which is downright outrageous, honestly. My first day here, I had to stop him from actually smacking her across the face, but clearly, he’s been taught that it’s an effective form of discipline. He let me know that he was only stopping as a “favor” to me, and assured me his father would fully endorse his behavior.
I’m just glad he doesn’t do more than stare and lecture Cosima, because I doubt I would have anything in common with someone who believes in something as brutal and unnecessary as slapping a little girl over French lessons.
Cosima has been more difficult to deal with than usual today, but I don’t think slapping her or threatening her will work.
“I know it’s hard,” I tell her. “But imagine how much fun you’re going to have if you go to Paris one day.”
“Parissucks,” Cosima says haughtily. “Italy is amuchbetter country.”
Her eyes are icy and cold, a much more terrifying facial feature worn on her brother’s masculine face. He has such a handsome face, honestly. I shouldn’t think about it but… it’s true. Good thing I have this up close and personal experience to know for a fact he’s a complete asshole. I’m not missing anything with the pretty boys.
“If you speak to Myra like that again, I’ll shave your head.”
“There’s really no need to threaten her,” I say calmly to him. My words seem to affect him for a moment, but Cosima senses she can push his buttons and she revels in it. Like more smart kids, she constantly seeks stimulation, even if that stimulation is sometimes pissing people off.
“Fuck this,” Cosima says. “And fuck the French.”
Michael loses it. “That’s it. Go to dad’s office andwait for me.”
Cosima glares at him defiantly. “I hate you.”
“I don’t give a shit you little brat. Go to dad’s office, or I’ll spank you right here in front of your beloved tutor.”
Cosima gives me a slightly sheepish look, approaching some variation of humility now that Michael pulls out all the stops. Everyday I understand a little bit more why they made me sign an NDA.
“I don’t want to leave,” she says in a small voice, mustering up as much defiance as her little body will allow her in the face of her enormous, physically terrifying brother fresh off his college football days and actively involved in the local mob.
“I don’t care what you want,” Michael growls. “You’ve made my day miserable enough. If I don’t spank you, I’ll have dad do it and trust me, it will hurt a lot more if he does it.”
Cosima slides out of the chair and walks out of the room with her head hanging. This man boils my blood.
“I still had twenty minutes left in my lesson.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t dock your pay,” Michael responds with his typical unfeeling tone.
“This isn’t about my pay. It’s about Cosima’s feelings.”
“What about them?” he asks, leaning back petulantly and putting his feet up on Cosima’s chair, which was across from mine so we could work on the comprehension passage.
