He nods, tracing patterns on my stomach. "I made a baby."
I want to laugh. Or maybe cry. I'm not sure which. Just like I have no idea if it'd be out of sadness, happiness, or just plain old hormones.
His touching me with such reverence is a delight.
Though it might be a sign of what's to come. Enzo with an iron grip. His issues of control.
I get that control attracts me, turns me on, leads me down the path of such carnal deliciousness it's hard to think straight, but...
But what?
Did I actually think he'd be a laid-back man when it came to kids?Hiskid?
He's Italian. Mafia. Control and protection of family are in his blood.
And I do want to get past the nagging doubt that remains. Just like I mean what I said about forgiving him and being ready to go forward with him.
I want that. I can do that.
I don't resent him. I can see why he did everything.
Perhaps it's unfair to expect him to have done things differently.
I know how a split-second decision can change things, like me asking Lyndall to leave with me when I panicked, and she got kidnapped.
Something tiny and seemingly insignificant can snowball into something huge.
Lyndall kept the test and threw it out, possibly because she'd planned on handing the bag to one of the guards to get rid of it, and that led to all of this. Just like I'd planned to tell him after I went to see the doctor, but that never happened, and I hurt this man who's now speaking close to my tummy.
"...anyway, kid, don't worry, we can go to the gym. I'll teach you to shoot, hack, hunt, fish—though those last two I'll have to learn. Your mom's pretty, and she's cool?—"
"Idiot."
He ignores me and keeps speaking, and a small sob escapes me.
He's going to be a wonderful father. And I've got all the evidence I need whenever I talk to Lyndall.
Sure, she's his sister, but her asshole father was never present for her in the way he should have been, and so Enzo stepped in. He opened his doors to her.
And she worships him.
A man like that is a good one.
And he is all mine.
God knows if I'm hyper-hormonal or not, but I pull him up by the hair from the conversation with my belly, and he slides his hand down, skimming over my clit and coming to rest high up between my thighs where it's wet and aching.
"It can't hear you."
He bites and licks my neck. "Our child is a genius."
"Zygote, not child, not yet."
"Child."
"You're an idiot."
"And you're gorgeous." He shifts his hand a little, not quite touching my pussy. "I can't believe I'm going to be a father."
