Page 134 of Scandalous Contract
And he’d be yelling at me for not being a real woman.Like what the fuck?Then, we got the news that changed my entire life. The news that I thought would end both me and my failing marriage.
Sighing, I slid the robe over my shoulders, remembering that fateful day in the hospital when I’d been told that heartbreaking news.It wasn’t him, it was me.I was the reason we couldn’t get pregnant. Not him.
He didn’t have a low sperm count as I suspected. It was I who had an ovulation disorder and a hormonal imbalance. Turns out, those extra-long and heavy periods were a sign of something bigger.
I didn’t know. How could I have known? When I was younger, my mother had taken me to the doctor because my periods made it hard for me to get out of bed sometimes, because they hurt so badly.
But I’d been given a prescription for pain pills and told that I was a heavy bleeder, and the duration of periods varied. I’d learned at an early age that you couldn’t always believe what doctors told you.
After finding out I couldn’t have a child, the beatings got worse. Instead of suggesting that I take the steps to get healthy and get my hormones balanced, he stopped touching me altogether, saying there was no point in sleeping with me.
It was then that I worked up the courage to leave. I’d planned to escape him and then file for a divorce. I’d even secretly reached out to my mom for help. And she’d helped me come up with a plan to be free of him.
It was a good plan. It would’ve worked. But then he found out about it, and he cried. I’d never seen him cry before. He fed me some bullshit excuses and claimed to love me and my silly ass believed him.
He told me he wanted to be a father so badly and that he wanted us to be a family. And like a fool, I thought having a child would gentle him, would make him happy. So I agreed to adopt a baby.
The first thing I did wrong was believing in that rat bastard. The second thing I did wrong was thinking a child could save a broken marriage. That is never a situation to bring a child into. And had my husband survived that car accident, he would’ve ruined me and India’s lives.
But there was one more thing I did wrong a few months later. And that decision set me on a path that led to me having those skeletons in my closet. I stared at the teddy bear on my bed, my vision blurry from tears I was trying my best to hold back.
What kind of woman would I be today if I hadn’t made those decisions back then? Who would I be if I’d done what my mother told me to escape the clutches of my abuser? Would I still have met Julian?
If so, would I be someone who could love him freely without fearing her past would be revealed? I’ll never have the answers to those questions because the past couldn’t be undone. All I had was right now.
And right now, I wanted to see Julian Cattaneo’s handsome face. I slid my slippers on and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I was halfway down the hall when the scent hit me.Coffee. Rich, dark, and strong.Just the way I liked it.
I followed the aroma like a woman under a spell and stepped into the kitchen. And there he was.Julian. Standing at the stove, shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray loose-fitting shorts and some white socks. This man loved being shirtless.
I could see why. His hair was damp, the ends curling slightly. The muscles in his broad back flexed with each movement he made. I took a second to appreciate the view before stepping closer. When I got close to him, I came up on my tiptoes and leaned over his shoulder.
“Looks yummy,” I murmured in his ear.
“It’ll be ready in a minute,” he told me.
“I wasn’t talking about the food,” I teased.
He stared over his shoulder at me, eyes wide, and I could’ve sworn there was a slight blush in his cheeks.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Adams?”
“What if I am, Mr. Cattaneo?”
He chuckled and stared back down at the stove. “I wasn’t ready for that,” he told me.
Was he acting shy? I loved it.
“Good morning, Mr. Cattaneo,” I told him.
Glancing back at me again, he gifted me with one of his heart-melting smiles.
“Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?”
Without thinking, I leaned closer and kissed his cheek.
“I slept well. Thank you.”
And then I froze. Because what did I just do? I’d kissed this man’s cheek like he was actually my man. I was going with the flow too easily, falling into a routine that screamed a message I wasn’t trying to send.
