Page 120 of Tide of Treason
“You’re pregnant with my child. Which means I live wherever you sleep.”
My heart made a noise so soft and pitiful it belonged in a boarding school for the emotionally bankrupt.
Of course he somehow knew.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just the shelf getting hammered into place. My whole world rattled on its hinges.
“You disappear for weeks, and then you think tossing that line at me wipes your slate clean?” I asked, voice honey-slick and not nearly as steady as I wanted. The distance between us was six slow steps and a lifetime of unfinished conversations. “I’ve been stuck with raging hormones while you were MIA. I even had to snap a picture with Gemz, the shampoo girl who had the nerve to let one rip and blamed the dog. Do you know what that does to a woman’s sense of pride?”
He stared at me, something frustrated and sweet in the set of his jaw. “. . . No.”
The silence bloomed thick, heavy as the New York humidity, heat sparking in the gap.
He exhaled, restless. His hands fidgeted with the shelf again, knuckles white.
“I wanted to see you. The night after the vote. I swear to God I did. I made it to your hallway,principessa. . . hand on the fucking door. But then I heard a man inside. Thought it was Niccolò,” he added, voice tightening. “I wasn’t in the right mind, not after Sergius. I’d just watched my father paint the floor with his skull and leave me a letter full of regret. I needed space, or I’d bleed it all onto you.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “Or worse—I’d make you pay for it.”
He thought . . . oh my God.
A soft exhale escaped me. Even when Lucius believed I was with someone else, his first instinct had been to protect mefrom the monster in him. I turned my head to the side. Let my hair fall over my shoulder to veil the thaw spreading across my features.
“Well. Lucky for you, I have a thing for men with questionable stability.” I tried for flippant, but it landed softer than I meant.
“Then lucky for me, I’m partial to older women who scare the shit out of me.”
I rolled my eyes—at least, that was the intent. In reality, the movement faltered and made a pitstop in my throat before making it to my lashes. “You leave for two months and expect one sweet comment to save you?”
A shake of his head, voice low. “I didn’t leave. I bled. Every day, every mile, I counted bruises instead of hours. I thought about you every second. Dreamed about your mouth. And now”—he tapped the wood, a finality in the gesture—“I built you a shelf.”
Only Lucius Andrade could weaponise carpentry and longing in the same sentence. I tossed the pepper stem in the trash as I passed, each step slicing the distance between us. “Presumptuous. And deeply unattractive. Do you know what happens to men who assume they share my address?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“They die.”
Lucius smiled and gave his head a tiny shake. “So fucking sweet, baby. I’m gonna be that kind of messed-up about you forever.”
The man was a walking pregnancy hazard. I wanted toclimb him like a tree and slap him across the face at the same time. Preferably while riding him into next Tuesday. And yes, it was entirely possible the hormones were to blame, but Lucius had always brought out the worst in me. He made my skin itch and my soul feel too big for my body. No one else ever had.
I ended up throwing himinto the guest room—figuratively, though I might’ve done it literally if he weren’t twice my size. Warned him: no sex, no dinner, no emotional stability for the time being. If he hated sleeping where Niccolò once crashed, tough luck. I gave him a towel and threatened him with it. If he left it on the floor, I’d smother him in his sleep. The same went for wet socks, clipped toenails, or any pungent food item decomposing in my home.
He dipped his head solemnly, accepting the terms.
Then I slammed the door in his face.
I lay downwith one leg kicked free from the blanket and stared at the ceiling. I stared and thought and stared some more. My phone lit up.
Lucius:I can hear you breathing through the wall.
Lucius:Is that weird?
Lucius:I don’t care.
Lucius:What if the baby’s first word is “fuck”?
Lucius:That’s my fault.
Five minutes later, the fridge door slammed.
