The Italian's Pregnant Virgin. Maisey Yates
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will be in the news?” The idea of her parents seeing her with him... It terrified her.
“Tabloids most likely. Perhaps some lifestyle sections of respectable papers. But that will mostly be contained to Europe.”
She let out a slow breath, releasing some of the tension that had built in her chest. “Okay. Maybe that isn’t so bad.”
He frowned. “Are you hiding from someone? Because I need to know. I need to know what might put my child in danger, cara.”
“I’m not hiding from anyone. And, trust me, I’m not in danger. I mean, I’m kind of hiding. But not because I’m afraid somebody will come after me. My parents were...strict. And they don’t approve of what I’m doing. I just don’t want them to see me written about in the paper, with a man. Pregnant. Not married.” In spite of the fact that she had long since given up hope of pleasing her parents—in fact, she had come to terms with the fact that her leaving home would mean cutting ties with them forever—she felt sick shame settle in her stomach.
“They are traditional then.”
“You have no idea.” The shame lingered, wouldn’t leave. “They never even wanted me to wear makeup or anything.”
“Well, I fear you will be defying that rule, as well.”
“Why?” She had the freedom to wear whatever she wanted now, but she hadn’t bought makeup yet. There had not been an occasion to.
“Because my women look a certain way.”
That forced a very specific image into her head. A certain kind of woman. The kind of woman her mother often talked about. Fallen, scarlet.
She had a difficult time wrapping her head around the idea that she would be presented to the world like that. Not because she felt ashamed, but because it just never occurred to her. The idea that she might be made up, and dressed up, on the arm of a man like Renzo Valenti.
“You go to... You go to a lot of events, don’t you?”
“A great many. As I said to you before, the world that I will show you is far beyond anything you could access on your own. If you want to experience, I can give you experiences you didn’t know to dream of.”
Those words made something hot take root at the base of her spine, wrap around low and tight inside her, making her feel both hot and empty somehow.
“All right,” she said, the words rushed, because they had to be. If she thought about it any longer, she would run away. “I’ll do it.”
“Do what exactly?” he said, his eyes hard on hers.
“I will play the part of your fiancée for as long as you want me to. And then after that... After the baby is born... I go.”
He took a step forward, reaching out and taking hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch burned. Caught hold of her like a wildfire and raged straight through her body. “Excellent. Esther,” he said, her name like a caress on his lips, “you have yourself a fiancé.”
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