Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Breakfast,” she said simply in a strong accent.
Luca must have sent it. I thanked her and relieved her of the tray. There was a bowl filled with cereal and fruit and a jug of milk. I tried to eat some, but the sensation of wanting to be sick returned. I abandoned trying to eat, and lay on the bed. Thirty minutes later, the door opened and Luca walked in. He held two packets in his hands. Wordlessly he came to the bed and held them out for me.
I took them from him and went to the bathroom. My heart was pounding so viciously against my chest that I could barely breathe. I tore the stick out of the packet and sat on the toilet bowl. I was ready to march out of that bathroom and show him I wasn’t pregnant and he could go back to just fucking me day and night. But I knew in my heart something had changed. I could no longer pretend to myself that he felt something for me. There was something special between us. Something he couldn’t talk about, but it was there.
A few minutes later I stared at the result in shock. I felt as if I had gone completely numb. It was impossible. It must be a mistake.
“Skye,” Luca called and my hands went over my mouth.
I rose to my feet and pulled my panties up. Then I went to open the door. I handed the stick over to him and went to sit on the bed. I actually needed to sit down. I never ever in my wildest dreams ever thought I’d be pregnant. How could it be?
A deathly silence filled the room. I then heard him as he came around to me. I couldn’t face him.
“You’re pregnant.”
“So it seems.” I think I was in such shock that my voice came out flippant and nonchalant. As if I didn’t care either way. Nothing could be further from the truth. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I didn’t do this on purpose. I’m just as shocked as you are.”
He stared at me as if he was seeing me for the first time and what he saw disgusted him.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to take care of it, or anything like that. I’ll sort everything out myself.”
“Is ‘sort everything out’ a euphemism for get rid of it?” His voice was so cold a bone chilling fear overwhelmed me.
“I didn’t mea—”
“That’s my child you’re carrying,” he snarled. “And you're my wife. And I will never allow you to get rid of it, do you understand me?”
I stopped breathing. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Spare me,” he said coldly. “If you don’t want the child, you can hand it over to me after it is born.”
Bewildered, I stared at him. I couldn’t even believe we were having this conversation. “Why would I hand over my child to you?”
“I am leaving for Boston tonight. My visit here is over. You can either stay here and finish your vacation, or you can travel back with me.”
I jumped to my feet. “I’ll come with you.”
“Fine. Be ready to leave at seven.” Then he turned on his heel and left.
I stared at the closed door, my strength starting to crumble. The tears I had been fighting so hard to keep at bay poured down my face.
Chapter 50
Luca
I did it again.
I walked out of our bedroom wanting to smash everything in sight. All kinds of emotions churned in my gut. I trusted her. I let my guard down and trusted her. I actually believed the fantasy she had weaved. What a fool I was. Once was not enough for me.
I have to go and make the same damn mistake again. I trusted another of her species. Heartless liars all of them. They are beautiful to look at but they are poison. They use their bodies to lure hapless men into their snares.
Beautiful liar.
I strode down the corridor and ran quickly down the stairs. I could feel my blood roaring in my ears as I went into the library. My father was sitting on an armchair smoking his pipe and playing a game of chess with himself. His old dog, Punto, was curled up in his lap. The dog was almost twenty now. When I was growing up, I sometimes thought he loved the dog more than he did his own family.
He looked up at me curiously.
“Something has come up. I’m leaving tonight,” I said.
For a second he said nothing, then he took his pipe out of his mouth. “I read a story once in a Russian newspaper. It was about a man who picked a beautiful flower growing in the wild and brought it home. His beloved cat ate it and died. Some flowers are to be admired from afar, never brought home.”