The Italian's Pregnant Virgin

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The words reverberated through her, an echo. A promise. One that almost every fiber of her being wanted to run from. Almost. There must have been some part of her that was intrigued. That wanted to stay. Because there she was, as rooted to the spot as she had been when he entered the bar earlier that night. There was something about him that did that to her, and it seemed to be more powerful than every terrified, screaming cell in her brain that told her she should run.

“That’s insanity. I don’t need you, I just need the payment that was agreed upon, and then I can better my circumstances.”

“But why have a portion of my fortune when you can have access to the entire thing?”

“I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with that. Frankly, having anything to call mine is something of a new experience. What you’re talking about seems a little bit beyond my scope.”

“Ah, but it does not have to be.” His words were like velvet, his voice wrapping itself around her. Her mother had been right. The devil wasn’t ugly. That wouldn’t work when it came to doling out temptation. The devil was beautiful. The devil—she was becoming more and more certain—was Renzo Valenti.

“I think you might be crazy. I think that I understand now why your wife left you.”

He chuckled. “Is that what she told you? One of her many lies. I was the one who threw that grasping, greedy shrew out onto the streets, after I caught her in bed with another man.”

Esther tried not to look shocked. She tried not to look as innocent and gauche as she was. The idea that somebody would violate their marriage vows so easily was foreign to her. Marriage was sacred, in her upbringing. Another reason that what Renzo was suggesting was completely beyond the pale for her.

“She cheated on you?”

“Yes, she did. As I said to you earlier, I, for my part, was faithful to my wife. I will not lie and say that I chose Ashley out of any deep love for her, but initially our connection was fun at least.”

Esther turned that over for a moment. “Fun?”

“In some rooms, yes.”

The exact meaning of what he was saying slipped past her slightly, but she knew that he was implying something lascivious, and it made her face get hot. “Well, that is... I don’t... I’m not the wife for you,” she finished. Because if she couldn’t exactly form a picture to go with what he was trying to imply here, she knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that she could never be in that kind of relationship with him.

She had never even been kissed. Being a wife... Well, she had no experience in that area. Not only that, she had no desire to be. Oh, probably eventually she would want to be with someone. It was on the list. Way far down.

Sex was a curiosity to her. She’d read love scenes in books, seen them in movies. But she knew she wasn’t ready for it herself, not so much because of the physical part, but the connecting-to-another-person part.

And for now, she was too busy exploring who she was. What she wanted from life. She had never seen a marriage where the man was not unquestionably in control. Had no experience of male and female relationships where the husband did not rule the wife with an iron fist.

She would never subject herself to that. Never.

“Why is that? Because you harbor some kind of childish fantasy of marrying for love?”

“No. Not at all. I harbor fantasies of never marrying, actually. And as for love? I have never seen it. Not the way that you’re talking about it. What I have seen is possession and control. And I have no interest in that.”

“I see. So, you are everything that you appear to be. Someone who changes with the wind and moves at will.”

He spoke with such disdain, and it rankled. “Yes. And I never pretended to be anything else. Why should I? I don’t have any obligation to you. I don’t have any obligation to anyone, and that’s how I like it. But I got myself into this situation, and I do intend to act with integrity. At least, as I see it. I wanted to make sure you knew about the baby, I wanted to make sure that your wishes were being met.”

“And yet, you saw no point in checking in with me in the first place?”

She let out a long, slow breath. “I know. I should have. But that was part of why I came to find you after Ashley said she no longer wanted the baby. Because she had made it so clear that you wanted a child desperately in the first place, and I could not believe that you would suddenly change your mind. Not based on everything she had said.”

“A convincing liar, is my ex-wife.”

“Clearly. But I don’t want to be tangled up in any of this. I just want to have the baby and go on my way.”

“That... That can be discussed. But for all intents and purposes, we are going to present you to the world as my lover. What happens after the birth of the child can be negotiated, but we will conduct ourselves as an engaged couple until then.”

“I don’t understand... I don’t want...”

“I am a very powerful man. The fact that I’m not throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest church, where I have no doubt I could bring the clergy around to my way of thinking, shows that I’m being somewhat magnanimous with you. I am also not overly enticed to jump back into marriage, not after what I have just been through. So, it is decided. You will play the part of my fiancée, at least until the birth of the child, at which point your freedom—and the parting price—can be negotiated.”

“We will be in the news?” The idea of her parents seeing her with him... It terrified her.

“Tabloids most likely. Perhaps some lifestyle sections of respectable papers. But that will mostly be contained to Europe.”

She let out a slow breath, releasing some of the tension that had built in her chest. “Okay. Maybe that isn’t so bad.”

He frowned. “Are you hiding from someone? Because I need to know. I need to know what might put my child in danger, cara.”

“I’m not hiding from anyone. And, trust me, I’m not in danger. I mean, I’m kind of hiding. But not because I’m afraid somebody will come after me. My parents were...strict. And they don’t approve of what I’m doing. I just don’t want them to see me written about in the paper, with a man. Pregnant. Not married.” In spite of the fact that she had long since given up hope of pleasing her parents—in fact, she had come to terms with the fact that her leaving home would mean cutting ties with them forever—she felt sick shame settle in her stomach.

“They are traditional then.”

“You have no idea.” The shame lingered, wouldn’t leave. “They never even wanted me to wear makeup or anything.”

“Well, I fear you will be defying that rule, as well.”

“Why?” She had the freedom to wear whatever she wanted now, but she hadn’t bought makeup yet. There had not been an occasion to.

“Because my women look a certain way.”

That forced a very specific image into her head. A certain kind of woman. The kind of woman her mother often talked about. Fallen, scarlet.

She had a difficult time wrapping her head around the idea that she would be presented to the world like that. Not because she felt ashamed, but because it just never occurred to her. The idea that she might be made up, and dressed up, on the arm of a man like Renzo Valenti.

“You go to... You go to a lot of events, don’t you?”

“A great many. As I said to you before, the world that I will show you is far beyond anything you could access on your own. If you want to experience, I can give you experiences you didn’t know to dream of.”

Those words made something hot take root at the base of her spine, wrap around low and tight inside her, making her feel both hot and empty somehow.

“All right,” she said, the words rushed, because they had to be. If she thought about it any longer, she would run away. “I’ll do it.”

“Do what exactly?” he said, his eyes hard on hers.

“I will play the part of your fiancée for as long as you want me to. And then after that... After the baby is born... I go.”

He took a step forward, reaching out and taking hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch burned. Caught hold of her like a wildfire and raged straight through her body. “Excellent. Esther,” he said, her name like a caress on his lips, “you have yourself a fiancé.”