Who was the real Vito Rocco? And how much of myself would I have to risk to find out? Because it felt like I’d risked so much already.
‘You talk about the baby and me as if we are possessions you own, Vito,’ I said, trying to make him understand how diminished I felt. ‘And I hate that. It makes me feel so powerless.’
He stiffened, and those dark brows jerked up his forehead. Was he astonished I had dared to challenge him? Or simply shocked I would expect him to consider the emotional impact of his actions?
I soon realised it might be both when he replied, his tone tight with frustration again.
‘You will not be powerless once you accept that you and the baby are my responsibility now. Your feelings will not keep you safe. I will. If you do as I demand, you will have everything a woman could desire.’
‘Everything? Really?’ I scoffed at the arrogant statement, letting the surge of temper cover the anxiety making my stomach hurt.
He lived a lavish lifestyle, and anything he wanted that he couldn’t buy, he took by force—like the services of a top obstetrician in the middle of the night. But I had to make him understand, I wasn’t for sale at any price.
‘I will be generous with you once you accept your position,’ he continued, misunderstanding me again. ‘Even though you did not tell me of my child.’
A muscle pulsed in his jaw, signalling his growing anger. The mention of my decision not to tell him about the baby again, though, was a red flag I knew I had to address.
I hadn’t been blameless in what had happened up to this point.
I sighed. ‘I was wrong not to tell you about the baby,’ I conceded. I’d already tried to explain to him why I hadn’t told him, but I knew my fear for the baby’s safety wasn’t the only reason. ‘My own father never wanted me. I never even met him,’ I managed, hating that admitting it made me feel even more vulnerable. But I wanted him to understand where I was coming from. ‘The truth is, I didn’t really consider you had rights too where the baby was concerned, and I should have. I guess I just assumed you wouldn’t care, that when you said you wanted me gone, that meant you didn’t want to see me again, and I apologise for that.’
His brows rose again, but the muscle in his jaw stopped twitching.
‘I do care. I care very much that my child is safe,’ he said forcefully, and I could see he meant it. ‘I am sorry your father chose not to protect you, Mia. My father was not able to protect me also, when I was a boy, because my mother ran from him…’ The gruff words hit me hard. Was that why he had been so angry with me? But before the bubble of hope could expand, he continued, his tone as harsh as the resentment in his eyes. ‘You must not fight me when I know what is best for you.’
‘But can’t you see, that makes me a prisoner. I don’t want to give up my freedom, my choices. I won’t,’ I blurted out, too distressed and heartsore now to be cautious.
The muscle in his jaw tensed again, and his brows lowered.
‘Freedom is overrated,’ he ground out. His gaze roamed over me, fierce arousal turning the deep blue of his irises to black—and making me brutally aware I was all but naked under the thin robe. ‘And it is not what you need.’
I stared back at him, willing the spurt of temper at his arrogant statement to cover the hurt at his refusal to bend. I’d told him about my daddy issues. I’d even apologised for not telling him about the baby, and yet it wasn’t enough.
It was obvious we were talking at cross-purposes, that he just didn’t get it. But I was suddenly too weary, and frankly too emotional, to press the point. Especially as I could see the heat in his eyes and knew exactly what that meant.
He placed his hand on my thigh under the gown and ran his thumb along the leg of my panties, confirming my suspicions.
‘Do you wish me to remind you again what you need—as I did on the plane?’ he murmured, the comment as potent as it was provocative.
‘No… I don’t,’ I said, even as sensation pulsed and throbbed in my sex.
Sex and dominance were his go-to ways of controlling me. But what was seriously hot in the bedroom was a lot less hot out of it. And separating the two was the only way I was going to be able to figure out a way through this.
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but to my surprise, he took his hand off my leg and smoothed down the gown. ‘Later,’ he said.
I tried to see it as a sign that our relationship had evolved, at least enough to stop him using our chemistry to shore up his position of power, as he helped me to climb off the examination table. But then he hooked my hair behind my ear and cradled my chin. The gesture was so disarming, my heart stuttered.
‘Do not be sad, Mia.’ His hand trailed down—proprietary, possessive, but also strangely tender, almost reverent when he cradled the bump. ‘As the mother of my son, you will always be taken care of.’
I wasn’t sure if he realised the qualifier made it clear it was the baby who was important to him, not me. But I couldn’t deny the forceful feeling of connection. And the memory of his gaze when he had stared at the images of our child.
Perhaps I should start there. For a hard man, he was genuinely moved at the thought of being a father. And wedidhave a connection outside sex. Neither of us had had a father’s protection. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
Maybe this wasn’t just the desire to mark me as his. Maybe it could be more than that. He had feelings. He had emotions, even if he controlled them so rigidly. Maybe it wasn’t completely unreasonable to assume the connection he felt towards this child could be a way behind that shield of dominance and demand he kept around the rest of his emotions.
I nodded, stupidly close to tears again as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then gave me a light swat on the backside that made me jump. ‘Now get dressed. We must leave for Isla Donna.’
To my surprise, he strode out of the room, allowing me to dress in private.
