“Feel free to change your mind anytime, Chiara.” The way he purrs my name has me gripping the edge of my seat like it’s the last lifejacket on the fucking Titanic.
“I could be infertile,” I spit out while debating whether to punch him in the dick. He’s close enough, and that bulge in his pants makes avery largetarget.
“You’re not.”
Huh?His words distract me enough that all thoughts of Angelo’s dick evaporate.
“What?”
“At your last health check, they tested your fertility. You are more than capable of carrying a healthy baby to term.”
My jaw drops. I had no fucking clue, although I remember wondering why the doc ran so many tests.
The knowledge Angelo knows more about my body than I do hits me like a semi-truck. It’s bad enough that Vivian married me off like a fucking 17th-century virgin, but knowing she paid for invasive tests to ensure I was worth selling? That rankles.
Angelo steps back and scrubs his jaw, all traces of flirtation gone.
“You didn’t know about the tests.”
Of course I didn’t ask about the tests. Stupid me. I should have known Vivian would pull a stunt like that. God, I can’t believe I actually fell for her maternal chat about how pap smears savewomen’s lives and it was better to be safe than sorry now I was old enough to be sexually active.
“I’m sorry. I thought you agreed to all the tests.”
This time, my tears are real. “Why would I agree to have invasive tests done to check my fertility? I’m twenty-two! I’m not ready to be a mom! Yes, I might want kids one day, but I thought that would happen at least ten years in the future, when I’ve met some nice guy and maybe fallen in love.”
Angelo’s expression hardens, and this time, I see the mafia heir, not the man.
“I regret you were subjected to medical tests without your consent, but that’s on your stepmother. I was not a party to the negotiations between Vivian and my father. Nevertheless, an agreement was made that you would give me an heir. I don’t have time to find a wife the normal way, and I’m not willing to shackle myself to some gold digger who sees me as a meal ticket for life.”
“Oh poor you,” I snipe while wiping a stray tear away. I’m still fucking angry, and while I believe him when he says he knew nothing about the tests, I don’t buy his sympathy. “Ever thought about renting a womb? There are always desperate women from third-world countries willing to do whatever it takes to survive.”
His expression turns glacial. “What kind of man do you take me for? Do I look like a monster?”
“I guess that’s open to interpretation.” Memories of my ill-fated wedding are front and center. Being dragged down the aisle by Vivian while a hundred strangers stared at me. The priest slurring his way through the vows while I tried not to vomit over my groom’s shiny shoes.
The sympathy in Angelo’s eyes before he turned away and refused to look at me again.
Yeah. It was hardly the wedding of my dreams. Not that I had a Pinterest board or anything. I’d always been more interested in pursuing a career than marrying some mafia prince.
Angelo stalks across the kitchen. He reaches up into a high cupboard and removes a bottle of liquor. Tequila or bourbon judging from the tawny color. I watch as he pours a generous measure into a glass and gulps it down before turning to face me.
This time, he keeps his gaze firmly focused on my face.
“You will remain in this house for the time being. Like I said, I need an heir. I’m not expecting you to have sex with me, so I’ll make an appointment with a fertility clinic. They can discuss your options. You’re young, so artificial insemination should work.”
“If you have a turkey baster, why not save yourself some cash, spunk into a cup, and I’ll do the honors?” He scowls at my flippant suggestion. Not that I’m seriously agreeing to get knocked up so I can give him my firstborn child.
Over my dead fucking body.
He slides an icy glare in my direction. “Astemptingas that sounds, I’d rather take professional advice.”
“I will not consent to more invasive procedures,” I warn. If he thinks some quack is pumping me full of fertility drugs, he can get fucked. I’d rather have sex with him than let that happen.
I clench my thighs together as an unwelcome picture of Angelo naked pings into my brain. Damn libido. Not helping!
“Noted.” He picks up the bottle and turns to leave. “I’m giving you the run of the house, but don’t try leaving. My men are under orders to use reasonable force to restrain you if you attempt to run away. I’m happy to let you have some freedom for now, but don’t mistake my generosity for stupidity. You can be chained to a wall and still carry a baby to term, Chiara.”
“How lovely. What a great start in life this child will have.” Angelo curls his lip up at my comment but doesn’t bite back. I watch him leave before slumping back in my chair.
