Page 115 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

I was drunk that night, so my guess is he was just as wasted and forgot to put a condom on.

Does he think I’d blame him for the pregnancy—or the loss neither of us has spoken about? I wouldn’t. It’s not his fault. Not the loss of the child neither one of us knew I was carrying. That fault lies with someone else, but I shove that thought away before it materializes fully.

“I’m just as responsible for that night as you are. All I’m asking for are the details since I only remember small fragments of what happened once we arrived here.”

“Bri,” he starts, but I cut off his objections. There is no way he’s getting around this.

“I don’t blame you. Jeez, D, just—”

“I blame me!” he yells, cutting off my words and startling me so much my body jolts. “Fuck,” he says, seeing my reaction.

He blames himself? What the... Why?

The ache in the center of my chest deepens at the sight of him. It’s clear this isn’t something he wants to willingly address and it’s affecting him emotionally. It’s instinctual that I want to stand and go to him; offer him the comfort he was giving me when he was carrying me, but my body is fighting against me.

“I don’t blame you,” I offer with the hope of putting his guilty conscience at ease and rid his eyes of the self-loathing look that’s staring back at me.

“You should. It is my fault. All of it.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes.

Letting my feet fall to the floor, I stand, shaking off the wince that breaks from my lips when I take my first step toward him. Closing the distance between us, I place my hands over his forearms, wrapping my fingers around his hot skin and look up.

“We both drank a lot. We screwed up and had unprotected sex once. It’s not like you did it purposely.”

“You think we just fucked once that night?” He shakes his head, stepping away from me and almost out of the door. “I was hell-bent on fucking you out of my system. Once wasn’t going to cut it. And...”

“And what?” I prompt when it doesn’t seem like he’s going to finish.

“And,”—his voice cracks—“I was drunk but not so much that a condom never crossed my mind.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I straighten my spine, ignoring the pain it causes to my abdomen.

“I was already in a pissed-off mood that night, so when you showed up it only added fuel to the fire. I didn’t know you, B, not really. Not like I do now. All I saw was another cop who thought I was the same dirty drug lord your people see my father as.”

“Are you saying he’s not?”

“No.” His head moves from side to side. “He’s a lot worse than the police could ever imagine.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you fucked me without a condom.”

“I had it in my mind that you thought I was dirty. Another dirty Acerbi a cop wanted to lock up.”

Dirty.

Is that why he keeps using that term? He thought I saw him like his father—a dirty rotten criminal. That is how I see his dad, but I’ve never once seen Drago like that.Not until now.

Everything I’m piecing together in my head still doesn’t make sense.

“What does that have to do with us having sex without a condom?”

Why would he deliberately be that stupid? We’re both nearly thirty years old.

“I wanted to make you as dirty as you thought I was.”

I know the doctor said I have a head injury and I’m sure if it weren’t for the drugs still lingering around in my system, I’d understand more clearly.

“I don’t understand, D.”

“I drank a lot that night, Bri, but I wasn’t drunk enough to have forgotten to use a condom. I chose not to use any.”

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