I slammed my palm against the door. Locked. Of course, it was fucking locked.
"You think I'm the villain?" His voice came from behind me, low and amused. Deadly.
I didn't turn around. Couldn't. If I looked at him, I'd forget why I was running. "You are." The word tore out of me. Angry. Hurt. True.
He moved. I felt him before I heard him. Heat at my back, his chest barely brushing my spine. One hand came up and pinned my wrist to the door above my head. The other splayed across my stomach, right where our secret was growing, then lowered to the only place he knew he had all the control. My head yanked back to his chest, his name slipping from my lips.
"Then stop moaning my name like it's some fucking prayer," he murmured against my ear, teeth grazing my skin as he withdrew his hand, leaving me wanting more.
My knees buckled entirely-not just from his touch, but from the brutal truth. I loathed him, yet a savage, undeniable desire still clawed at me. "You don't get to claim me," I whispered, my voice trembling and raw. "Not me. Not my child."
He spun me around, forcing me to meet those cold, merciless eyes that had me thinking twice about disobeying him. His grip tightened. Possessive. "He is mine. You are mine."
I opened my mouth to fight him.
And his mouth crashed into mine.
________________________
As if the tragedy of an unexpected pregnancy by a stranger hadn't been enough to shatter my world, the universe seemed to revel in adding insult to injury. That stranger was none other than my husband's boss-Antonio Vincenzo Lombardi, a man whose very name commanded silence and fear in boardrooms. The most ruthless, murderous man alive, whose presence alone could paralyze a room.
Mercy was a word never found in his vocabulary; whatever he desired, he seized without hesitation. And now, a part of him lived inside me, binding me in a silent, suffocating link.
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