A Hunger for the Forbidden

“Communication seems to be something we don’t do well with,” he said. “Our lack of talking last time we were here together certainly caused some issues.”

“But I want to talk now,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

He cocked his head to the side, dark eyes trained on her now with a focus he’d withheld until that moment. “You aren’t afraid of me.”

“No.”

“A mistake, some might say, cara mia.”

“Is that so?”

“You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

“You turn green and split your pants?”

“Perhaps taking this somewhere private is the best idea,” he said, wrapping his fingers around her arm, just above her elbow, and directing her toward the elevator.

He pushed the up button and they both waited. She felt like she was hovering in a dream, but she dug her fingernails into her palms, and her surroundings didn’t melt away. It was real. All of this.

The elevator doors slid open and they both stepped inside. And as soon as they were closed into the lift, he rounded on her.

“You’re pregnant?” His words were flat in the quiet of the elevator.

“Yes. I tried to tell you in a less public way, but it’s been two months and you’ve been very hard to get ahold of.”

“Not an accident.”

“Oh, no, I know. It was far too purposeful to be accidental. You never even opened my emails.”

“I blocked your address after you sent the first few.”

“Uh,” she said, unable to make a more eloquent sound.

“I see it offends you.”

“Yes. It does offend me. Didn’t it occur to you that I might have something important to tell you?”

“I didn’t care,” he said.

The elevator stopped at the top floor and the doors slid open. “Is there a point in me going any further, then? Or should I just go back to my friend Carolina’s apartment and start a baby registry?”

“You are not leaving.”

“But you just said you didn’t care.”

“I didn’t care until I found out you were carrying my child.”

She was both struck, and pleased, by his certainty that the child was his. She wouldn’t have really blamed him if he’d questioned her at least once. She’d lied about her engagement to Alessandro. By omission, but still. She knew she wasn’t blameless in the whole fiasco.

“What did you think I was trying to contact you for? To beg you to take me back? To beg you for more sex? Because that’s what we shared that night, that’s all we shared.” The lie was an acid burn on her tongue. “I would hardly have burned my pride to the ground for the sake of another orgasm.”

“Is that true? You would hardly be the first person to do it.”

“If you mean you, I’m sure it cost you to take a Battaglia to your bed. Must have been some epic dry spell.”

“And not worth the price in the end, I think.”

His words were designed to peel skin from bone, and they did their job. “I would say the same.”

“I can see now why you ran from the wedding.”

A wave of confusion hit her, and it took her a moment to realize that she hadn’t told him the order in which the events had occurred. Wedding abandonment, then pregnancy test, but before she could correct him he pressed on.

“And how conveniently you’ve played it, too. Alessandro would, of course, know it wasn’t his child as you never slept with him. I hope you’re pleased with the way all of this unfolded because you have managed to ensure that you are still able to marry a Corretti, in spite of our little mistake. Good insurance for your family since, thanks to your abandonment, the deal between our family and yours has gone to hell.”

“You think I planned this? You aren’t even serious about marrying me, are you?”

“There is no other choice. You announced your pregnancy to the whole world.”

“I had to tell you.”

“And if I had chosen not to be a part of the baby’s life?”

“I was going to make you tell me that to my face.” He regarded her closely. “Strange to think I ever imagined you to be soft, Alessia.”

“I’m a Battaglia. I’ve never had the luxury of being soft.”

“Clearly not.” He looked at her, long and hard. “This makes sense, Alessia.” His tone was all business now. Maddeningly sure and decisive. “It will put to rest rumors of bad blood, unite the families.”

“You didn’t seem to care about that before.”

“That was before the baby. The baby changes everything.”

Because he wanted to make a family? The idea, so silly and hopeful, bloomed inside of her. It was her blessing and curse that she always found the kernel of hope in any situation. It was the thing that got her through. The thing that had helped her survive the loss of her mother, the cold detachment from her father, the time spent caring for her siblings when other girls her age were out dating, having lives, fulfilling dreams.

She’d created her own. Locked them inside of her. Nurtured them.

“I … It does?” she asked, the words a whisper.

“Of course,” he said, dark eyes blazing. “My child will be a Corretti. On that, there can be no compromise.”

CHAPTER THREE

MATTEO’S OWN WORDS echoed in his head.

My child will be a Corretti. On that there can be no compromise.

It was true. No child of his would be raised a Battaglia. Their family feud was not simply a business matter. The Battaglias had set out to destroy his grandfather, and had they succeeded they would have wiped out the line entirely.