Yes, what then? Brando was certain that history would repeat itself. This life that would’ve called to him—if not for Maggie Beautiful’s fight and the sheriff’s and my father’s interference—would call for a son to serve. The Faustis were legendary for having sons. A little girl put him at ease, more so than the alternative. She’d be treated as an Italian princess.
We became silent while he continued to make shapes. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see that his gaze was trained on what he was doing.
“Brando?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you—hate me?”
His touch faltered but didn’t stop. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”
“All right.” I sighed. “Do you resent me? The—baby?”
“No.” His voice came out low, almost gruff. “I could never. Did you resent me when I said no?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Sometimes I craved it, but I never felt resentful. I could live with what we had. Just us.”
“I can live what we have, too.”
I put my hand on his, squeezing, and spoke to him in Italian. “I want you to be happy.”And not consider this a responsibility in the calculating way, my heart added.
“Dammi tempo.”Give me time.“Lui sapeva.”He knew.
It took me a moment to realize whom he was referring to. I hadn’t told anyone but Maggie Beautiful about the baby. Then I realized whom he had meant when he saidhe knew.His father.
“Yes,” I said. “I wasn’t planning on telling him. He brought it up, said he could tell.”
I could feel the change in him at once. His semi-warm demeanor went ice cold in the space of a heartbeat.
“Mywife,” he said, almost to himself. “Mywife.” He waved a hand. “In that fucking place with him. He put his lips on yours.”
The hostility coming from him almost made me get out of the bed and cower in the corner. I held steady.
“It wasn’t romantic, Brando.”
“No, it was possessive. The life you carry is his insurance to the bloodline.”
“He told me…that you considered Jane, before we were married.” I held a hand up. I could see the anger burning in his eyes. “It wasn’t about her. I know it wasn’t. You wanted to be a good husband. And Jane—or it could’ve been anyone else but me—didn’t come with strings. I did. You never wanted to fail me. I understand. I do.”
“I am.” He turned on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands over his bare chest. “Anxious for this baby.” He sighed.
I situated myself on my side so I could see his profile. Using my finger, I traced the shape of his face, down his throat, along his stomach and back up. His hand came up to seize my wrist. Then his eyes met mine.
“I am, too,” I whispered. “Anxious. Maybe even terrified. But in general. This is all knew to me.” I tugged away from on his hold, and he finally released me, letting me touch him again.
I leaned forward, tentative, testing, placing a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. “Fai l'amore con me.” I kissed him again, this time longer and harder. “Per favore.”
He flipped us over, his body hovering over mine, my wrists pinned to each side of my head. I had worn a bra and underwear to bed, and he took them in, the urge to shred strong.
“You want me to make love to you,” he said, his eyes hot on my body.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”
“Tell me,” and he pressed his erection against me, making the throb become a frantic pulse.
“Prendi il mio corpo,” I begged.Take my body.“È tuo.”It’s yours.
He gazed down at my stomach, a swollen mound between us. A mocking smile came to his face.
