Page 221 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Yes, sir,” they both reply, and I head inside. “Is she still there?” I ask one of the maids, who nods.
I walk upstairs, skipping a few steps, carefully placing my feet only on the spots I usually walk on, and go straight to her room. When I open the door, she’s seated down, brushing her hair in front of the mirror, still wearing the beautiful dress I bought for her.
“Vincenzo,” she mutters, her eyes glimmering as though she’s surprised to see me. “You’re back.”
I walk up to her, gazing at her beauty through the mirror. “You look gorgeous.”
She blushes, and I know, even if she were to deny it, my words obviously have an effect on her. “Thank you.”
“I have a gift for you.”
I snap my fingers, and the men waiting behind the door bring Dean inside.
Emilia’s pupils dilate, and she jolts up, knocking over the seat.
“Dean…” she mutters as the guard shoves him inside. “What are you …?”
My guard prods him with the gun, and her eyes home in on the bloodied hole in his shoe.
“Oh my God …” she murmurs, her hand propped in front of her mouth.
She almost approaches him until my guard takes off the safety of his gun. In the middle of the room, she stands frozen.
I walk up to her and place my hands on her shoulders.
“What did you do?” she asks, her voice unsteady. “You shot him?”
I whisper into her ear, “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer, but her hand slowly slides down to her belly.
“Exactly,” I say.
“No, I didn’t do it on purpose,” Dean says.
“You didn’t want to use a condom,” she says.
“I thought you were on the pill,” Dean stammers, sweating like crazy.
“I told you I wasn’t,” she replies, her voice getting more and more unhinged. Angered. Just like I anticipated.
Dean stares at her belly. “So it’s true? You’re pregnant?”
She nods, and I can feel her muscles coil up with rage.
“But I don’t want a freaking kid,” he mutters. “I don’t even know you.”
My fingers dig into her skin. “You don’t even know her? When you stuck your d—”
Emilia’s hand on mine silences me. “I don’t really know him either.”
I frown, confused.
“We just had … sex,” she mutters.
“And I fucking paid for it,” he adds.
Paid for it?
