Page 218 of Hell Hath No Fury
I turn around to face him, but it’s so hard to look at a face as handsome as his. “What will it cost me?”
He tilts his chin up, and I swallow down the nerves.
Every man is the same. They all want only one thing.
Sex.
And I know how to do that.
I place my hand on his chest, my hand sliding down his body, but when I reach his belt, he grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Is this what you were forced to do?”
I gasp.
“Is that how you got this?” He places a hand on my belly.
I lean back in shock. “How did you know?”
He snorts. “I’ve seen you looking at your belly. It’s obvious you’re pregnant.”
I wince at hearing those words out loud again.
“Is that why you were out on the streets?” When I look away, he tilts my chin with a single finger and forces me to look at him. “Answer me, please.”
“Yes.”
His nostrils flare, and his lips twitch.
“This pregnancy … is it your choice?”
I swallow, not wanting to give the answer to a man I barely even know. But what choice do I even have? I don’t want to seem ungrateful.
After a while, I shake my head. “I’m not on the pill. He didn’t want to use a condom. Said it would stop the pleasure. I wasn’t able to say no.”
Vincenzo releases my wrist, and I try to compose myself, but it’s hard when faced with a man as impressive and dominant as him. It’s like every look, every gaze, every word of his is laced with power. The kind I’ve never had.
“Thank you,” he says. “For your honesty.”
I lick my lips and let my eyes travel down his chiseled face and chest, the buttons of his shirt barely able to contain the pecs hiding behind. It’s rare that I meet anyone with such a physique who’s also a gentleman. And I don’t think I’d even mind it if I had to pay for my stay with body contact.
But he steps back and grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss so gentle it takes my breath away.
Until his eyes look up, boring straight into mine. “You do not need to earn your keep … but I do require you to tell me who it was that got you pregnant.”
I gulp. “Um …”
His grip on my hand grows stronger. “The truth, Emilia.”
“Dean Johnson. He lives downtown. St. Peter’s Street thirty-five, upper floor apartment number twenty-six.”
His eyes twitch again, and a fire grows inside them. One I haven’t seen before.
“Thank you.”
He presses another kiss on top of my hand and releases me, then turns around and waltzes off. And I just know I set off a ticking time bomb that’ll be impossible to defuse.
CHAPTER FOUR
