Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Yes. A baby. That’s what I want.”
“But not just a baby. A son.” Even saying it out loud doesn’t make it any easier to understand.
His brows draw together. “Yes. What part of this is so difficult for you to comprehend? I thought you at least had a little sense.”
I do my best not to snarl. “You’re aware there is always a fifty percent chance that it could be a girl, and then I am stuck back at square one.”
“Then we continue trying till we have a boy.”
He’s lost his mind. There’s no freaking way to guarantee I’ll get pregnant, and if I do and the pregnancy is healthy and whatnot, there is still a fifty percent chance the baby will be a girl instead of a boy. I could end up stuck in this damn marriage with ten daughters. And I highly doubt he’d stop there, even if my body was falling apart.
“Well?” He says it like a man who knows he’s got me cornered. He has no reason to doubt I’ll go ahead with this because he doesn’t see me as having any other choice.
“Well… Is there another option?”
He blinks rapidly. “Excuse me?”
“I’m saying, is that my only option? Is there another condition I could choose instead?”
“Certainly.” The man moves fast. In a flash, he withdraws a gun from his waistband and points it at me, aiming between my eyes. I stiffen, staring at him, holding my breath. This is it. He’s finally going to do it. I’m going to die.
“Option number two: I become a widower much sooner than expected.”
If he was going to do it, he’d do it. I don’t know where that thought comes from, but it rings out loud and clear in my head. He doesn’t want to kill me—not yet, at least. Not when he has a wife to give him what he thinks he needs more than anything. Like he’s a king, and the succession is in jeopardy.
That doesn’t mean I can push too hard. I don’t want him losing it and firing anyway to spite me. I’m thousands of miles from home. It would be so easy for me to simply disappear without a trace. Nobody would even care.
So I keep my voice low, my gaze fixed on the gun. Asking him to lower it will only make things worse. I’ll go in the opposite direction. “Then do it.”
The gun jumps a little before steadying. “Don’t bluff with me.”
“Who says I am?”
“You’re not going to like how it turns out.”
“If the only other option is becoming a real-life Rapunzel, living locked up until you decide you’ve made good use of my uterus, who’s to say?” I glance away from the gun long enough to meet his gaze.
His eyes narrow. I don’t want to die, but I’m not going to whimper and beg the way he so obviously wishes I would. The best thing is I know it’s driving him crazy—I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming from his ears. Not that I can afford to get cocky. He could still snap.
“Why don’t we talk about this like two rational people?” My mind is racing almost as fast as my heart, but I think I’m getting through to him. Maybe. “Without the gun? I can’t think well with a gun in my face.”
“Nobody asked you to think,” he grits out.
“No,” I admit. “But I think there might be a way we can both get what we want out of this—”
“Beyond me being allowed to live,” I add before he can throw that in my face.
If he wants his heir, he’s going to have to play ball. I doubt he wants to go through the hassle of divorce and finding another woman willing to have his child. For once, I have the upper hand or at least a fighting chance.
He knows it, too. And he hates it. “Fine.” He lowers the gun, allowing me to breathe easier. “Let’s go inside. This had better be good.”
I hope it is, too. Now all I have to do is come up with a way to convince him to return to Miami, where I’ll have a better chance of getting my life back. I think there might be a way to make this all work.
6
ENZO
What is she thinking? What’s this all about? I’m willing to give her enough rope to hang herself with by letting her dream up a way for this to benefit both of us, but I only have so much patience. There will be hell to pay if this is nothing but a stall tactic.
She’s pensive, brows drawn together, lips pursed while examining the shelves lining three walls of the study. Along with countless books, there are framed photos taken decades ago, along with assorted treasures from the many cities Grandfather visited on cartel business. Not that he was a sentimental man. I always imagined he enjoyed looking at certain pieces and remembering the deals he put in place on those particular trips.