The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty. Michelle Smart
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Year, want with a child?’
His features darkened for the split of a second before his usual laconic grin replaced it. ‘It might make a nice accessory for pulling more women.’
She would have believed he was serious if the granite in his eyes hadn’t said otherwise. She gave an involuntary shiver.
‘Do you think I was oblivious to the disparaging comments you made about babies?’ she demanded. ‘Do you think I didn’t notice you rolling your eyes whenever Grace and Luca discussed having kids?’
‘So that’s proof I would demand an abortion, is it?’
‘You made it perfectly clear that kids are not and never will be on your agenda.’
A tiny pulse pounded on his jawline. After a loaded pause, he said, ‘Say a paternity test proves it is mine. What do you expect from me? Marriage?’
‘No!’ She practically shouted her denial. ‘No. I do not want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone.’
‘That’s a relief,’ he drawled, heading back to his bar to pour himself another glass of his concoction. ‘But in case you’re only saying what you think I want to hear, know marriage will never be on the cards, whatever the outcome of the paternity test.’
Had he drugged her? For a moment she actually considered the possibility. She could hardly credit she had allowed him to seduce her so thoroughly.
She looked back on their weekend together. It was as if she had been under some kind of drug that allowed the hormones so prevalent in the rest of society to actually work in her. For the first time in her life she had experienced desire. It had been the headiest feeling imaginable.
She had wanted to believe he was serious about her.
She had wanted to believe they could have a future together.
An image of her parents flashed in her head. Was this what it had been like for them? Especially her father, who’d hooked up with a new woman on a seemingly weekly basis. With all the affairs he’d had and all her parents’ fights and making up, had they constantly experienced that same headiness? Was that what had caused their monstrous selfishness?
She blinked the image away. She would not be like her mother and think only of her own needs. Her unborn child’s needs would always take priority, whatever the personal sacrifice.
‘I’m glad you think that way because, believe me, I have no intention of marrying you.’ She’d rather marry an orang-utan.
‘Good. People who marry for the sake of the baby are fools. And I am not a fool.’
She glared at him. ‘I can think of many a choice word to describe you but fool isn’t one of them.’
‘Then we are on the same page,’ he mocked.
‘About marriage, then yes, but, Pepe, I need help. Financially, I am in no position to support a child.’
‘So you thought you would come to me.’ He tipped his drink down his neck in one swallow.
‘If you think for a second I like the idea of having to beg you for money then you have a very twisted view of me. I’ve come to you for help because this is your responsibility...’
‘You’re going to pin the blame for this on me?’
‘I’m not the one who got carried away,’ she countered pointedly. Warmth spread inside her as she recalled lying in his arms after they’d made love for the first time. Pepe’s usual languidness had gone. A more serious, reflective side of his nature had come to the fore, a side she’d never seen before. As they’d talked and his face had come closer to hers, she’d found herself staring at his lips. And he’d been staring at hers. And even though they had made love barely ten minutes before, the heat he had created inside her and she in him had flared back to life, and he’d rolled on top of her and kissed her—devoured her—and before either of them had been fully aware of it, he’d been inside her. If she’d thought having him inside her the first time had been something special...this had been indescribable. For what had felt an age, they had simply lain there, gazing into each other’s eyes, before he had reluctantly withdrawn to get a condom.
That one stolen moment had been enough to create a life.
‘I hardly think that was enough to make a baby,’ he said, his tone becoming grim.
‘Well, it was. You used me, Pepe. Whether you like it or not, you are responsible.’
It sickened him to know she could be right.
You are responsible.
Despite the playboy image he had cultivated—an image he exulted in—Pepe couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so reckless.
Actually, he could remember. The last time he’d made love to a woman without using a condom he’d been eighteen. Young and believing himself to be in love. A lethal combination.
It hadn’t been a conscious decision to enter Cara unsheathed. At the time it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Not that he’d been thinking properly. He’d been reeling from the discovery that she was—had been—a virgin. He’d also been struggling to understand everything going on inside him.
Usually he would make love to a woman and get back into bed, have a fun conversation, drink a glass of wine or whatever, maybe make love again and then leave without a second thought or a backward glance. He’d never got back into bed with a churning stomach and a tight chest before. He could only assume it was guilt he’d been feeling. Guilt at her virginity or guilt at what he’d had to do, he did not know.
Guilt or not, he’d never got back into bed with a woman and needed to make love to her all over again. Not straight away. For all his reputation, Pepe thought with his brain, not the appendage between his legs. At least he had until that night with Cara.
But he hadn’t been inside her for long enough to make a baby. It had been a minute at the most. But caro Dio, he’d had to force himself to withdraw and get that condom. Being inside her without a barrier...
His groin twitched as more sweet memories filled him.
For that one minute inside her, he’d felt a sense of sheer wonderment and belonging...
‘I need a coffee,’ he muttered. He wanted another drink—a proper drink—but knew it was time to stop. A plan was formulating and he needed to think clearly. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Cara shook her head. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, chin jutted up, looking ready for a fight.
By the time he’d made a quick call to the kitchen, his plan was fully developed. Cara could like it or lump it. If she wanted a fight, she had to learn it was one she would never win.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SIT DOWN.’
It was a definite command.
Cara tightened her arms around her chest and pressed harder into the wall, which was the only thing keeping her upright—her legs were shot. Not that she could trust the wall. For all she knew, it might be hiding a secret bathroom. The only saving grace was that her dress was long enough to hide her knocking knees.
But even if her legs could be trusted to behave, there was no way she would obey. She didn’t care how rich and powerful Pepe was in his world, she would not grant him power over her, no matter how petty. Not without a fight.
‘Suit yourself.’ He lowered himself onto one of the oversized chocolate leather sofas, stretched out his long legs, kicked off his shoes and flashed a grin.
Her knees shook even harder.
How she hated that bloody grin. It was so...fake. And it did something ridiculous to the beat of her heart, which was hammering so hard she wouldn’t be in the least surprised if it burst through her chest.