Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to worry about money. You’ll have all you can ever need.”
“Because you’ll pay me off?”
A shutter drops in front of his eyes. His expression becomes closed-off as he pulls free from my grip and lifts the duvet to cover me.
Sensing that I’m losing this battle, I lay a hand on his forearm. “Wait.”
He pauses.
“It’s not only about the money,” I continue. “It’s about pride, about being self-sufficient and taking care of myself.”
“You’re like no one I’ve met.”
“How’s that?”
He brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “You’re stubborn, heard-headed, and way too proud for your own good.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought that was you.”
“Easy with those snarky remarks.”
“It’s true.” I shrug. “After what Livy told you about my childhood, you can understand why I need to do this.”
His shoulders slump with the sigh he blows out. “If there’s one thing I do understand, it’s that.”
“Okay.” I put on a bright smile. “It’s not the first time I’m sick in the morning. It’ll pass in a bit. By the time I’m dressed, I’ll be my old self.”
He doesn’t seem convinced. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll make myself some ginger tea.”
“No.” His tone is stern. “You’ll wait in bed. I’ll make the tea. You’ll only get up if you keep down the tea and if you feel strong enough.”
“Deal,” I say quickly before he changes his mind. “But for the love of God, put on some clothes first.”
His lips tilt in one corner. “Not what women usually say when they get me naked, but I suppose you’ve had enough exposure for one day.”
“More than enough,” I agree, but those pesky hormones wreaking havoc in my body threaten to strike in a demonstration of objection.
“You’ll hurt a man’s feelings,” he says, but he does walk to the dressing room, flashing me with a backside that looks as if it’s sculpted in marble.
Holy cow. A flush works its way through my body. I’m only halfway relieved when he returns, because the tailored power suit he wears with a black shirt doesn’t help to make him look less mouthwatering handsome.
It’s just hormones, I chide myself.
Saverio serves me ginger biscuits and tea in bed. He sits down in the armchair, making sure I finish each drop and every morsel before he takes the mug and plate away.
Feeling a lot better, I freshen up in the bathroom, do my make-up, pin up my hair, and get dressed. Only, the pants that used to be a little loose around my waist don’t fit any longer. Neither do the two dresses I try on. They’re both tight around the middle. It’s impossible to fasten the zippers.
Not having a choice, I go through the clothes Saverio bought. I select a pair of cream pants with an inlay of comfortable, stretchy fabric over the stomach that I pair with a matching wool sweater and long coat. Beige pumps finish the ensemble. After transferring my phone and other knickknacks to the handbag of the same color as the heels, I walk out to find Saverio waiting for me in the armchair next to the bed.
He looks up from reading something on his phone, and then he stills. A moment passes as he trails a path over me with his gaze.
“Anya.” He stands. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” My smile is uncomfortable. “My clothes don’t fit me anymore.”
He motions at my stylish outfit, something I’ll never be able to afford. “Those are your clothes.”
“I meant my own clothes.” When a dark frown pleats his brow, I say, “My old clothes.”
“That’s why you have new clothes for every month of the pregnancy.” He scrutinizes me. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” I hurry to add, “Amazing actually.”
“I’m driving you to work on one condition,” he says in a deep voice, advancing on me.
I crane my neck to look at him. “More conditions?”
“You’ll call me if you’re unwell.”
Cocking a hip, I say, “Define unwell.”
“A headache. Nausea. Vomiting. Dizzy spells. If you bump your toe. Is that clear enough for you?”
A sigh slips from my lips. “Yes, sir.”
Heat sparks in his eyes. “And you can practice that line for tonight.”
What the—?
Not giving me time to ponder the statement, he heads for the door. “Come. I’ll drive you.”
An hour later, he sees me off at the office with a kiss and a warning to be a good girl. Jasmine, who’s in reception when he opens the door for me, swoons.
“Wow,” she says when he’s gone, looking me up and down. “You look amazing.” Gripping the edge of the coat, she rubs it between her fingers. “This is a designer label.” Before I can stop her, she yanks the coat open and checks the label that’s stitched on the lining. “Oh my fucking God,” she shrieks. “This is a Cathy Liu. They tailor-make to size.” She lets go of the coat. “You have an attentive boyfriend.”