Page 48 of Reckless Woman
“Don’t be such an asshole!”
I know it’s only frustration that’s making him act this way. For a man who gets off on control, this situation is his worst nightmare. He manipulates my body to accept his darkest, filthiest desires. What he can’t do, however, is manipulate the same body to give me my perfect, tick box birth plan.
I can’t excuse these contractions away as Braxton Hicks anymore. My doctors were right. This baby is coming two weeks early, whether I like it or not.
“You only get to insult me in labor, my angel.” He saunters over to plant a dangerously warm kiss on the back of my neck. “After that, it comes with a harsh punishment.”
“I don’t want to talk about sex,” I mutter as he slides a large hand across my fit-to-bursting stomach, pulling me back into his heat and his hardness. The pain is easing, but it’s a temporary relief. That wave will be overwhelming me again soon enough. “And if you think I’m letting you anywhere near me after this birth, you’re very much mistaken.”
He chuckles into my hair. “I’ll hold you to that,mi alma.”
“Are you still timing my contradictions?”
“No, I’ve been distracted by other things.”
Jesus Christ. I love Dante with all my heart, but I wish Anna was back from Miami to help me with this. She’s going to be so upset. She missed Ella’s birth, and I know she really wanted to be here for Thalia’s.
Thalia.
I’m about to give birth to a new baby girl.
Shudders of panic start to intermingle with the pain and exhilaration.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Some alone time?” I say with a sigh. “Preferablywithoutmy husband?”
“One more strike and you’re out, Eve.”
“Don’t you have someone awful to torture? If not, I suggest you go take a long walk off a short pier.”
“Ordersas wellas rudeness?” He pulls me even closer, not to hurt but to caution. “Careful, Eve…I’m keeping a note of all of this.”
“Be nice,” I grit out. “Or I’m going downstairs and having this baby on your desk.”
“Didn’t we conceive her there anyway?”
“No idea. You’ve screwed me a billion times on every available surface in this house. I wouldn’t mind a new location.”
“You’re not leaving this island,mi alma,” he murmurs, knowing exactly what I’m hinting at. “You’re too much of a target.”
It’s the usual argument. I rattle the bars of my cell and he brushes my fingers away. I’m aching to see the world again, and he refuses to entertain the idea.
“That’s always your response for everything, isn’t it? Ohshit.” Another contraction swamps my body, pitching me forward against the dresser again.
He holds me close until it passes, riding out the pain with me—whispering sweet Spanish endearments that contradict the type of man the underworld thinks he is. The one they all fear. The myth. The legend…
I know what hides beneath his layers of darkness. I found the source of his pain. I embraced it and I made it my own, and then I brought it to his surfaces, and we grieved it together.
Only I know the real Dante Santiago.
Only I know about his regret.
He never knew his eldest daughter, Isabella, and it tears him up inside. It colors every decision, every kill. Her remains are buried on the north side of this island and he visits her grave often. In the last few weeks, he’s gone there every day.There are reasons for this, and I’m still waiting for him to share them with me.
“How far away are the doctors?” I whisper.
“Thirty minutes. They’re in the air. If their expensive Lopez Loafers aren’t climbing those stairs in the next hour, I’ll be returning them to the mainland, along with their dismembered feet.”