Page 36 of Abducted By the Mafia Don
I flick my despairing gaze at her. I deserve this torture. No question. But my god, I had no idea she’d emotionally waterboard me. Especially after last night when she was mia bambola, pliable and innocent.
When she could be pregnant with my child, right now, andnot know.
“I’d get a big belly.” She places one hand on her flat stomach, and giggles softly.
Inwardly, I groan. The image is instantly in my mind, of Taggie full of our child. My cock thickens.
“That wouldn’t put you off, would it?” Her hand creeps onto my thigh.
I make a strangled noise.
“What was that?”
“I...” I cannot lie to her. “It wouldn’t put me off you,” I grit out.
“Oh good. Because I don’t have much experience. Well. Any. I’m a virgin.”
My teeth clench.No, you’re not.
She casts her gaze down and although one hand is on my knee, the other is behind her back. My brain is so far into overload with this conversation and her touching me in a way nobody could possibly see—so it’s not strictly part of our pretending—that I can’t understand the significance.
“And so many of the other wives in the London Maths Club—yes, I call it that now, sorry—have children. But I wouldn’t want us to even pretend you’ve got me pregnant if that grossed you out.”
“It doesn’t,” I reply faintly.
“Oh good. That’s a relief. You know,” she gives a little chuckle. “Just in case I pretend. Or if I were pregnant… One day.”
Okay, this is cruel. Below us on the stage, the woman is singing a big, mournful song about how her love is unrequited, and yeah.
I get it, universe. Seriously? More subtlety, please.
But I don’t regret anything I did last night though. I can’t.
I look at Taggie again.
She blinks back innocently. For a second I’m so sure that she knows everything that happened last night, and she’s doing this on purpose...
I thrust away the idea.
Absurd.
That is not how a young woman responds when she finds out that a man twice her age is so obsessed with her that he let himself step over a line when she trusted him with an unlocked door, sub-tropical bedroom temperatures, and a sleeping tablet.
I should be strong enough to withstand the temptation of her. I’ve never had this issue before, but then, Taggie is on a different level. I cannot controlmy desire for her.
And suddenly, I know what I have to do.
Scare her.
My sweet bambola is playing with fire, and I need her to realise that. She must find out the danger she’s in.
“But I’d like to be clear,” she insists. “Would you want me to be pregnant?”
“Taggie.” I take her hand from my knee, and drag us both to our feet, her chair falling over with a noisy thud I’m sure draws attention.
Never mind. I only see Taggie.
In a second, I have her pinned against the side of the box. There’s a curtain only slightly obscuring us from the rest of the audience, and nothing to block the view from the stage if the performers were to glance up.
