Page 33 of Pregnant By the Italian Mafia Enemy

I just followed.

I didn’t say anything as I allowed the scene to fade.

Damien wasnothim.

Dante wasnothim.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Dante snarled back at me as he took me down a long hallway and into a public bathroom.

He shoved me into the room. The harsh lights were the only sign of change, and it snapped a bit of my attention free.

My back collided with the cool metal door, and his hand slammed into it, vibrating the entire thing. “Why are you flirting with a man you’re not interested in fucking, Sienna?” he shouted. “Are you doing this to spite me?”

“Why do you care?” I shouted back.

“Because you’re fucking terrified, and he didn’t even make a move on you. You were just as terrified with me a week ago, and I want to understand what the fuck is going on.”

His voice boomed through the room, but I didn’t flinch. It wasn’t him that terrified me, and we both knew it.

It also wasn’t any of his damn business.

I’d escaped. I’d fought back. I’d come out on top all those years ago, and it should be nothing but a reflection in the rearview mirror of my past, but it wasn’t. It didn’t feel that way.

It didn’t matter how much stronger I was now when the panic crippled me.

I could allow it to continue crippling me.

“Leave me alone,” I shouted.

“Tell me what the fuck happened to make you like this.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I shoved his chest with all my might. Though he didn’t move an inch, his brows rose as he looked down at me.

“I need to understand.”

“I needed a fucking distraction,” I shouted. I punched his chest again and again. “I need to get him out of my fucking head, and I need a distraction. And I need it not to be you. You’re—” I stopped myself, thinking better of what I wanted to say. “You’re dangerous, and I need someone safe.”

“You’re never going to be safer with someone else,” he shot back, though his teeth still ground. “What game are you playing?”

“I want you to hate me.”

Why the hell was I burning for Dante when Ididwant him to hate me? I needed him to keep me around, but no part of me yearned to befriend him.

Yet here I was, involuntarily clenching my legs together.

Why did I tremble for a reason other than fear when he stood so close?

Why did I feel both loose and tense in all the right places for him?

“You’re not going to make me hate you.”

“I need you to hate me. I can’t keep feeling these things for a man who is holding me hostage.”

Truths and lies. Lies and truths. I felt like if we kept talking here, especially with him so close to me, I’d reveal something dangerous.

“I’m not going to hate you, but I can help distract you for a while,” he told me.

My eyes shot up to meet his, and I saw the look of absolute lust in his eyes. I saw how much he wanted me, and my breath caught. “I—I’m not losing my virginity.”

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