Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I throw up my hands. “I pawned the stupid watch already, okay? You know that.”
“Then I want the money.”
Panic fills my stomach. “I can get it. Can you just—” I do some rough math in my head. If we don’t eat for like six weeks, and if I sell every bit of plasma in my blood and a few of my eggs, maybe I can get him the cash in ten years. “Give me time. I’ll figure it out.”
He laughs softly. “You would, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d find some other unsuspecting idiot and steal another Rolex from him.”
My cheeks turn red. “I’m sorry, okay? I was desperate. That wasn’t me.”
“Wasn’t it? From what I know about you, you go home with random men, steal from them, then refuse to talk to them when you’re pregnant with their baby. Not the best first impression.”
I grind my jaw but he’s got a point. “I didn’t want any of this to happen. I wasn’t even planning on having sex with you, okay?”
“You were going to rob me and not even have the decency to fuck me first? That’s brutal.”
“I told you, I’m not a hooker. I didn’t want—” I take a deep breath. This is spiraling out of control. “I’m sorry, okay? It was a very, very low moment in my life. I should never have gone home with you, and I definitely shouldn’t have taken that watch. I’ll figure out a way to pay you back, okay?”
Fear runs through my skull. I keep forgetting that this guy is dangerous. He’s in the mafia. He’s connected. If he really wanted to hurt me—
There’s nobody around to stop him right now.
“The sex was good though,” he says, his voice sounding like velvet pulled across my lips.
I don’t even bother trying to deny it. “That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. The sex was very, very good.”
“I’m not sleeping with you again.”
“Not even if I offer you a Rolex?” He’s smiling, and I know he’s kidding, but anger rolls through me.
“I am not a hooker,” I snap at him and turn away. “Fuck this. I’m catching my bus and going home. Just leave me alone, okay?”
But he catches my arm before I can go, and this time, he doesn’t relax his grip when I try to yank away. There’s nobody around to help and Martha’s already two blocks away. She might hear me screaming, but it would be too late by the time she ran back.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He sounds genuinely sorry. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I’m teasing you, but I shouldn’t.”
“Great. Thanks.” I take a deep breath. “Let me go now.”
“I want to be in the baby’s life.”
That gets my attention. I stare at him, not sure what the hell to make of it. Why would a mafia guy want anything to do with some random girl and her random baby? Guys like him are supposed to run screaming when their one-night stand shows up claiming to be pregnant. I’d be nothing but a burden—so why would he want anything to do with me?
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I manage to mutter at him, feeling a mix of panic and anger. “You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but I do remember that night we had. I remember the sex. I remember how fun it was to be with you. I’m not saying we’d have any of that again, but I am saying that maybe we can take a piece of it and parent this kid together. I want to be in the baby’s life, Molly.”
I look down at the ground and shake my head. I can’t meet his gaze right now—it’s very hard to think when he’s looking at me like that. “I don’t know. It’s a lot and I just—”
“You don’t understand.” He leans closer. I stare at his lips and my mouth waters. I remember what that tongue can do. I remember his fingers sunk between my legs. I haven’t forgotten a thing from that night either—frankly, I’ve relived it more than a few times in the intervening weeks while attempting to simulate his incredible touch with my vibrator to varying levels of success.
“Explain it to me then.”
“I want to marry you,” he says, and it’s like my whole world goes blank.
Chapter 9
Molly
Now I get why they call it a bombshell. It’s because my entire world explodes. Everything breaks, and all I can hear is rushing wind in my ears. I blink rapidly, shaking my head, feeling dizzy—
But no, that’s not wind.
That’s the bus.
“I can’t,” I say, ripping my arm from him. He stares and for a second, I think he might try to grab me again. But I turn away and start running. This is my usual response to difficult problems made physically manifest. Running is the purest form of avoidance. “I’m sorry, Saul, but there’s no way I’m ever going to marry you!”