Page 75 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“No, mia piccola innocente, I do not. I know you have no pills upstairs and never did.” He kissed the top of my head. “You are a terrible liar.”

I bit my lip, grateful he couldn’t see my face at the moment. I’m sure the truth was written all over it, now that my defenses were down. “I’m a great liar.”

He chuckled, his broad chest rumbling beneath me. “You are terrible at it and I’m grateful. I don’t want to be married to a woman who prefers deceit. I respect honesty, Emma.”

“I’m not ready to have sex with you.” I wasn’t ready to have a baby. I wasn’t ready for any of this.

“We don’t have a choice. You must be pregnant in three months’ time.”

“Just let me go,” I whispered. “We can think of a way out of this.”

His chest rose and fell as he blew out a long breath. “I have tried to think of a solution. If there was any other way . . . .”

He trailed off, not finishing the thought. Because there was no other way. We both knew it.

“You said you were going to find Virga and . . . .” I couldn’t say it.

“Kill him? He’s still at sea. No doubt he’s having us watched, however.”

“Isn’t there anyone he cares about? A family member we can use as leverage against him?”

“He has no wife and his son died eight years ago.”

I could feel my eyes start to burn. I blinked rapidly, trying to stem the flood of emotion in my chest. What was the point in crying?

With a gentle finger under my chin he tilted my face up. “Do not worry, bambina. Making the babies is the fun part.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Sure. But there’s a lot I want to accomplish before having children.”

“I’ll not pretend to want a child. I don’t. But you don’t need to give up your life for this. You can return to medical school and live in Toronto afterward, free of responsibilities.”

The practicalities of bearing this man’s child hadn’t truly occurred to me before now. Maybe because I hadn’t believed it would actually happen. But Giacomo was talking about a future where we had a child together . . . a child I was leaving behind in Sicily. “Do you honestly think I’d do that?”

He shrugged. “Why not? I have the money to hire caretakers. Nannies or whatever the fuck. Our child will want for nothing, Emma.”

Except love. And someone to fight this misogynistic society on their behalf.

Getting off his lap, I started redressing. This was not a conversation best had while naked. “I won’t leave a son behind in Sicily to become some cold and ruthless mafia kingpin—or worse, abandon a daughter to be bartered off to some mafia family. The baby goes where I go.”

He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the armrests. “You’re not making sense. First you don’t want a baby, and now you are taking our baby away from me. Which you know I’d never allow.”

“Now who isn’t making sense? You don’t want a baby, but if we happen to have one you’re keeping it?”

“I’m the boss,” he said in a gruff, raspy tone that held notes of danger. “I decide what makes sense.”

Oh, god. Someone please spare me from testosterone-fueled logic.

I swiped my hand in a chopping motion. “No baby. We’re not having sex and you’re not getting me pregnant.”

Slowly, he pushed out of his chair until he towered over me. Then in a flash he reached out and snagged my hair in his fist, twisting just short of the point of pain. His mouth hovered near the edge of my ear. “If we can’t figure out a solution in the next two weeks, I am going to fuck a baby into you. I will fill that virgin pussy with so much come you’ll choke on it. And I promise you’ll love every second.”

Releasing me, he grabbed his phone off the desk, then stomped out of the office.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Giacomo

“Fratello!”

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