A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,25

minimizing it. Minimizing what she felt. And she hated that. But she was powerless to do anything to stop the words from coming out. She wanted to protect herself, to push him back from her vulnerable places. To keep him from hurting her.

Because the loss of Matteo in her fantasies … it was almost too much to bear. As he became her reality, she was losing her escape, and she was angry at him for taking it. For not being the ideal she had made him out to be.

“I’m flattered,” he said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“How do you see this marriage going, then?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Assume it’s too late. Where do we go from here?”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes shuttered. “When exactly are you due?”

“November 22. It was easy for them to figure out since I knew the exact date I conceived.”

“I will make sure you get the best care, whatever you need. And we’ll make a room for the baby.”

“Well, all things considered, I suppose our child should have a room in his own house.”

“I’m trying,” he bit out. “I’m not made for this. I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Well, I do. I know exactly how much work babies are. I know exactly what it’s like to raise children. I was thirteen when my mother died. Thirteen when my baby sister and the rest of my siblings became my responsibility. Babies are hard work. But you love them, so much. And at the same time, they take everything from you. I know that, I know it so well. And I’m terrified,” she said, the last word breaking. It was a horrible confession, but it was true.

She’d essentially raised four children, one of them from infancy, and as much as she adored them, with every piece of herself, she also knew the cost of it. Knew just how much you poured into children. How much you gave, how much they took.

And she was doing it again. Without ever finding a place for herself in the world. Without having the fantasies she’d craved. True love. A man who would take care of her.

You’ve had some of the fantasies.

Oh, yes, she had. But one night of passion wasn’t the sum total of her life’s desires.

“All of this,” he said. “And still you want this child?”

“Yes, Matteo. I do. Because babies are a lot of work. But the love you feel for them … it’s stronger than anything, than any fear. It doesn’t mean I’m not afraid, only that I know in the end the love will win.”

“Well, we can be terrified together,” he said.

“You’re terrified?”

“Babies are tiny. They look very easily broken.”

“I’ll teach you how to hold one.”

Their eyes met, heat arching between them, and this time her pregnancy hormones were making her feel something other than anger.

She looked back down at her breakfast. “How’s your head?”

“I feel like someone put a woodpecker in my skull.”

“It’s no less than you deserve.”

“I will treat you better than I did last night. That I promise you. I’m not sure what other promises I can make, but that one … that one I will keep.”

She thought of him last night. Broken. Passionate. Needy. She wondered how much of that was the real Matteo. How much he kept hidden beneath a facade.

How much he kept from escaping. And she knew just how he felt in some ways. Knew what it was like to hide everything behind a mask. It was just that her mask was smiling, and his hardly made an expression at all.

“Will you be faithful to me?” she asked, the words catching in her throat.

Matteo looked down into his coffee for a moment, then stood, his cup in his hand. “I have some work to see to this morning, and my head is killing me. We can talk more later.”

Alessia’s heart squeezed tight, nausea rolling through her. “Later?”

“My head, Alessia.”

My heart, you jackass. “Great. Well, perhaps we can have a meeting tonight, or something.”

“We’re busy tonight.”

“Oh. Doing what?”

“Celebrating our marriage, quite publicly, at a charity event.”

“What?” She felt far too raw to be in public.

“After what happened with Alessandro, we have to present a united front. Your not-quite wedding to him was very public, as was your announcement of your pregnancy. The entire world is very likely scratching their heads over the spectacle we’ve created, and now it’s time to show a little bit of normal.”

“But we don’t have a normal marriage—I mean, so I’ve been told.”

“As far