Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“You’re growing our little grape,” I said instead, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. It was a small victory, a tiny crack in the wall between us.
“Do you want this baby?” I finally asked, utterly frightened for her response.
Serafina was silent for a moment, and then she pulled her hand away.
My chest cracked open.
“Yes,” she breathed.
The hand over the swell of her belly trembled.
“But that doesn’t mean I forgive you. This baby is as much mine as yours. How could I not want him?” Her voice is steadier now, stronger. Her gaze sought mine in the darkness, piercing, consuming, furious. “Except, I still need to know why. Why did you do it? Why did you take that choice from me?”
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning.
But what could I possibly tell her?
My motives had always been simple.
And the truth was even simpler.
“I was selfish,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
It was about power, about control, about proving something…
Serafina closed her eyes, the softness in her face that had been there before when we were talking about our baby, the warmth… it was gone now as my bitter truth filled the silence of her room.
“I’ll do better,” I promised, the words feeling inadequate even as I spoke them.
I will prove that I am worthy.
She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t respond.
Just... hard, cold silence.
I waited and waited…
And when I realized that I had been shut out again, I nodded in the darkness, understanding clawing at my throat.
I got off the bed, hands trembling by my sides.
“You can stay,” she breathed in the darkness. “Not in my bed. In the armchair.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My chest shuddered with a weak breath.
It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t even close.
But it was something.
And for now, that was enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Serafina
I sat on the barstool, watching him move around in the kitchen.
It was a sight I had never expected to see.
Adrian Salvatore, the ruthless killer, the man who has tormented me in countless ways, standing before the stove, cooking.
He looked so completely out of place in his black pants and black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone. His brows were furrowed as he worked diligently.
He had been too attentive lately, noticing things most people would miss. He always had stalker tendencies, but those tendencies seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.
It should have been suffocating, to have him around me all the time. Watching, wanting to talk, helping me as if I was incapable of doing anything on my own.
But it was almost…cute.
I squashed the thought away before I could even dwell in it.
No…
Nothing was cute about Adrian.
Not his betrayal. Not his lies. Not his manipulations.
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to have Stockholm Syndrome.
Adrian has made mistakes that were unforgivable.
He had tampered with my birth control and took my choice away.
He had done a lot of terrible things, and there was a lot I couldn’t forgive him for.
But this…
This, I couldn’t allow myself to forgive.
No matter how much he consoled or proved himself to be worthy…
He would never be worthy.
I stared at him, his large hands were surprisingly gentle as they flipped the omelette, with a practiced flick of his wrist.
Adrian wasn’t a good husband.
But yet, sometimes I found myself wondering if maybe… just maybe, he could be a good father.
He wanted this child.
No… wanted was far too small a word for whatever lived inside him whenever he looked at the life growing beneath my skin.
Every touch against my stomach carried an almost reverent tenderness, as though he were handling something sacred, too fragile that he was frightened his touch would hurt. His rough hands would soften the moment they brushed over the curve of my belly.
Sometimes he whispered to the baby when he thought I was asleep. Low, gentle words spoken with an emotion so raw it made my chest ache.
And his eyes…
God, his eyes gave him away every single time.
They gleamed with something far deeper than happiness. It was fear. Awe. Desperation. Hope so sharp it almost looked painful.
This child wasn’t just his heir or legacy.
This baby was the only thing tethering him to humanity. The only thing keeping the darkness inside him from swallowing him whole.
I didn’t understand it.
I didn’t understand why a man capable of such brutality looked at my stomach like it held his salvation.
I didn’t understand why there was so much terror hidden beneath his tenderness, as though he was already terrified of losing something that hadn’t even entered the world yet.
And maybe that was what unsettled me the most.
Not his obsession or his protectiveness.
But the fact that beneath all his darkness, there was still an emotion inside him capable of caring this deeply.
He was a monster.
But he wanted to become worthy of being a father.