Page 22 of Wicked Sinner
“Don’t tell me how I’m better off! You think you can just throw money at me and I'll forget about self-respect? You think you can buy me like you bought that car?"
"I'm not trying to buy you?—"
"Aren't you? You're offering me money, security, a nice apartment. What would you call that?"
"I'd call it taking care of someone I care about."
"You don't care about me," I say, my voice breaking slightly. "You don't even know me. You know my name and what I look like naked, but you don't know anything about me."
"I know enough." His lips press together. “Bridget?—”
"You know nothing." Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back. I refuse to let this man see me cry. "You know nothing about me, about what I want, about what I need. You just assume that because I'm poor, because I'm alone, because I was stupid enough to sleep with you, that I'll be grateful for whatever scraps you throw my way."
"That'snotwhat I think." Caesar’s jaw clenches, and I force myself to ignore how handsome he is. How fucking good he looks standing in my parking lot.
“You thought I’d be impressed with your money and your swagger.” I glare at him. “You think I'm so desperate for security that I'll compromise everything I believe in just to be with you."
“I think you’re incredible?—”
“In bed,” I finish. “That’s all you know about me. And that’s all you’re ever going to know. Get the fuck out, Caesar. We’re done here.”
“Bridget, I’m trying?—”
“I don’t need you to try! Just get out!”
“Bridget, I’m offering you everything I can give?—”
For a moment, I’m almost caught up by the note of desperation I hear in his voice. Hewantsme. He wants me so badly he’s standing here in my parking lot arguing with me, when he could walk into any club or bar in Miami and walk out with a girl on his arm. There’s something heady about that, something seductive, but I refuse to be drawn in by it. The fact that itdoestempt me makes me angrier than ever.
"You're offering me nothing!" I scream. "You're offering me a life in the shadows, a relationship built on lies and secrets and shame. You're offering me a future where I have to pretend Idon't exist whenever your real life gets in the way. Where I’m something dirty and hidden?—"
“I would never?—”
“Youare.” I shake my head. “That’s how cheating works, Caesar. The wife gets a ring and respect, and always comes first. The mistress gets the apartment and the allowance and the promise that she'll never be more than a footnote in your life."
"You're not a footnote,” he protests, and something in me snaps.
“I’m not anything!” Those tears burn in my eyes again, and I force them back. "I'm nothing to you. I'm just some girl you fucked in a garage three weeks ago, and now you want to fuck me again. And you’re nothing to me, and Idon’twant to fuck you again."
It’s a lie. But I’m not going to tell him that. And eventually, I tell myself, Iwon’twant him. I won’t even like the memory of him.
Not after how this has all turned out.
“Bridget, if you would just listen to me?—”
“I’m done listening. You’ve done enough. Just get out?—”
“I haven’t done nearly enough?—”
“I’m fucking pregnant!”
I shout the words before I can stop myself, as if they’re some magic incantation that will get this conversation over with. Surely,surely,a man like Caesar will turn tail and run the moment he hears the truth. Surely the last thing in the fucking world he wants is to be yoked to a broke mechanic because of a child from a one-night stand.
But instead, he just stands there, frozen, his eyes locked on mine. “Say that again,” he murmurs, and I stare back, wondering why he isn’t already running.
“I’m pregnant, Caesar. I’m going to have your baby.”
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