by Sophia Lynn
“Father, why are you so outraged? His reasons for ending the contract are understandable. I don’t think—“
“You will not take his side with me. Do you hear me? I have no business dealing with a traitor, and I will not stand for my daughter becoming one either.”
She swallowed hard. “Aren’t you even going to congratulate me on winning the tournament? Or is this all about your pride?”
He huffed. “Your mother and I were thrilled to see that you won. But your win has been overshadowed by this unfortunate news. You know what to do now. Inform me what train you’ll be on once you book it.”
“I’m staying here.” Her voice wavered, tears pricking her eyes. He was such a bull—an unforgiveable bull. This was just one incident of thousands in her life where he’d threatened exile from the family for not bending to his wishes and whims.
“You have one day to book your return trip. Need I remind you of the consequences?”
“Father, just give me some time here. I want to stay and see if I like it. I can find a job here, and use my talents—”
“For whom, the man who sent our company into financial ruin?” His voice was aghast, so raw and loud that she winced. “I won’t have it. You have shamed me!”
And then the line went dead. Tears clouded her vision and a few drops escaped as she lowered the phone. Louis approached quietly, sitting beside her on the bed. He rubbed her back, not saying anything.
“He’s so hardheaded,” she said, wiping a few tears away. “He refuses to listen to me. He refuses to listen to anybody except himself. And to him, he’s the king of the world.”
“Fathers can be like that sometimes. Especially when power and success are mixed in.” He clasped her hand in his. “I struggle with the same.”
“He says I’m a traitor.” She turned to him, lip quivering, struggling to maintain some semblance of control. “How can that be true? I’m just following what feels right. Business is business; you’ve explained it to me. I had been thinking of moving anyway—I’m sick of Milan. If not Monaco, I would have gone elsewhere, I’m sure of it.”
“He is clearly the unreasonable one. Should you expect him to come around?”
She sighed, deflated. “Eventually, but I can’t be sure. I’ve never had something like this happen before.”
“Call your mother. They always know what to advise.”
Drawing a shaky breath, she nodded. “I will. Soon.”
He kissed her cheek and went into the other room, where he’d set up his laptop and a wireless printer. Feeling like a vacant shell of herself, she stared into space for a while, measuring all the mountains she still had to overcome: calling her mother, begging for forgiveness, but also staying true to her own decisions.
As her mind worked over the details of everything she’d learned, one point continued to stick out above the rest: why did Louis even approach her if he knew she was of the Giovanni family?
If Louis had been so hurt and angered by the slander her father created, then why even bother chatting her up at the poker table?
Maybe he didn’t know who I was. Maybe he wanted to just say hi. Maybe it was to see how I’d react to him. Maybe I was so gorgeous he couldn’t resist. Or maybe…
Thoughts cartwheeled uncontrollably through her mind. Something didn’t add up, but she was too emotionally drained to think about it further. When she’d recouped a semblance of energy, she’d start figuring out the gray areas of the matter.
Chapter Ten
When Monday rolled around, Louis took Antonia to tour the factory where their own design company was scheduled to begin work. She had plenty of her own ideas and interjections that both pleased and intrigued him. He knew she had experience working with commercial and private designs but had never imagined she’d be so knowledgeable about the manufacturing process as well.
Moving the fabrics design in-house was something of a pet project. Since he’d been the one to head the initiative to bring certain industries back to Monaco, he’d spearheaded the efforts alone. The more he heard of Antonia’s input, the more he realized she could be an invaluable partner in more than just design.
Like a permanent life partner. The idea frightened him, shook him out of his easygoing attitude sometime after lunch that day. It arrived like a lightning bolt—how could he feel this way about someone he’d met just ten days ago? It was insane—and he specifically needed to avoid insane ideas as the prince of Monaco. It was practically his primary job.
But yet, Antonia felt right, natural. She was quick-witted and brilliant; gorgeous and compassionate. He loved watching her interact with the world. Something in her grace and stature reminded him of his mother—a softness and mischief that he’d long admired in her. And he wanted more of her nearly all the time, which was a scary sign if he’d ever seen one.
After their tour and business meetings, they stopped by the palace. In his bedroom, they readied themselves for a dinner in the city center with another executive lined up to work on the fabrics company.
As he stepped out of his casual slacks, Antonia sauntered over to him, a gleam in her eye.
“You look like you’re ready to eat,” he murmured, catching her at the waist. “But what do you want to eat tonight, is my question.”
“Before dinner, I want a little snack.” She licked her lips and trailed her hands down the sides of his body, stopping at the edge of his boxer briefs. “Maybe you know of something I can nibble on?”
Heat rushed to his core. “I have the perfect appetizer.”
Smiling like a vixen, she dropped to her knees, nuzzling her face against his mostly-limp cock. He sucked against his teeth as she pulled his underwear down to his ankles, taking the entire length of him in her mouth before he was fully hard.
“Oh, Antonia,” he moaned, knotting his fingers in her hair. She swirled her tongue around his cock, coaxing it harder and harder, and he quickly reached full-mast in front of her, bulging and veiny.
“This is exactly what I wanted,” she purred, trailing her tongue under the sensitive side of his cockhead. Pleasure pulsed through him and his knees almost gave out. She took him into her mouth as far as she could go, starting a frenetic, tightly suctioned rhythm that pushed him to the edge almost immediately. Head back, he tensed, shouting gruffly as the pleasure built and built. He clenched and came hard, drizzling cum into her mouth as the waves receded.
She licked her lips, wiping away a spot from the corner as she looked up at him, eyes dark and mysterious.
“That was just the treat I was looking for, my prince.” She got to her feet and kissed him hard. He wobbled on his feet, head still cloudy and empty as he came back to earth. “Do you remember the night we first met?”
“Of course. I’ll never forget it.”
“Did you know who I was that day?”
His eyes drifted open and shut lazily as he thought about her question. Why was she asking this? Why now? “Yes, of course.”
She batted her eyelashes, tracing patterns over his chest. “Did you seduce me to get back at my father?”
The question was like a javelin spear in the head. His mind swirled with a thousand reactions, but none could make the leap to his lips. The weight of a lie felt oppressive; before he could even think better of it, the word escaped his lips. “Yes.”
She held his gaze for a moment, deathly still. As his mind continued to clear, the weight of this admission made itself known. Her eyes iced over.
Without a word she spun on her heels and marched to the bed. He pulled up his boxer briefs, unsure what the first words out of her mouth might be. Dread crept in; he realized this moment had been the niggling feeling at the back of his mind all weekend. He wasn’t out of the woods—in fact, he had the feeling he’d just been dropped into the center of an ancient forest.
He came to the bedside and watched as she grabbed a few items of clothing. Then she pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and plopped it beside her clothes.
“
What are you doing?”
“Going home.” Her mouth was a thin, frightening line.
“Don’t.” He rushed around to the other side, stepping between her and the bed. “Why would you do that?”
“Get out of my way,” she hissed. When he didn’t move, she pushed past him and continued loading her things.
“Stay, Antonia. This isn’t a big deal. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. It doesn’t change what we have.”
“You seduced me as part of a plot. The whole thing was a fucking ploy.” Her voice shook as she spoke, as if she struggled to contain her rage. He fought to find some way to rectify this, but he didn’t know where to go from here.
“It’s not true.” He stopped, rubbing his face to clear the cobwebs from his head. “It is true—but it’s not what you think. I swear. Yes, I wanted to seduce you to get back at your father. But that plan ended once I—”
“No more. The first part is enough. I know all I need to know!” She slammed the suitcase shut and then marched over to the table where her phone was. “Call me a cab.”
“No.”
“Call me a fucking cab, Louis.”
“I won’t. Stay here and listen to me, for god’s sake!”
Her expression slid into a glare. “What does it matter to you? You got what you came for. You tricked me, seduced me, got your revenge. As far as I can see, your business is done here.”
“Antonia.” He blocked the door as she attempted to leave, suitcase in hand. “That’s not how it is. Listen to me.”
“I’ve wasted enough time listening to your half-truths. I’d much prefer to go home and be alone, where nobody can lie to me or manipulate me.”
He reached out for her but she recoiled, grimacing. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Hear me out.”
“I’ve heard all I need to hear.” She sidestepped him and rushed out of the room, heels clicking on the marble tiles as she disappeared down the hallway.
He started to chase her but realized he wore nothing but his underwear. With all the tour groups that came daily to the palace, that wouldn’t do. He rushed to find a pair of pants, fumbling to pull them on as quickly as he could, but he put them on backwards first, and then couldn’t get the zipper up. Once he’d managed to get them on correctly, he raced out of the room barefoot, heart in his throat.
As he zipped down the hallway, he glanced through the windows and saw her below him, leaving the front doors of the palace, talking to a security guard. He gestured toward something in the distance. Leaning through an open window, he shouted down to the guard.
“Don’t let her leave!”
The guard squinted up at him, but Antonia had already fled. She disappeared down a gravel pathway, one that led to the tourist entrance. There, she’d be able to find a taxi with ease.
He stumbled down the stairway, legs jelly, and raced out the front door. Gravel bit into the soles of his feet, slowing his progress. He cursed and pressed on, stepping carefully. She wasn’t even within view anymore.
“Antonia!” He shouted so loud his voice broke. A bit further down the path, he shouted her name again.
No response.
At the far end of the path, the tourist entrance came into view. Groups of people milled around the gates, necks craned, taking pictures, soaking up the autumn sunlight. He stayed in the shade of the trees, hesitant to reveal himself, barefoot and desperate, to crowds of people armed with cameras.
Beyond the property gates, tall and spiked, rush hour traffic honked and zoomed by. People filled the sidewalks. Antonia was lost in the crowd.
He swallowed a knot in his throat, searching the sea of faces anyway, just in case he might spot her. If he found her, he’d reveal himself, consequences be damned. He couldn’t lose her. Not yet. Not like this.
But as minutes passed, he saw no brunette with a suitcase in a trim pencil skirt. She was gone. She’d escaped him, slipped through his hands like sand on the beach.
He turned to follow the path back to his side of the palace, chest tight, tears threatening to escape.
She could leave…but he’d find her. He’d explain himself, make her understand.
Despite all the logic in the world, he needed this woman. Ten days with her had changed his life.
***
Antonia arrived at her parent’s villa, overlooking the canal in Milan, with a glum face. She’d spent the night in a Monacan hotel then caught the first train back to her homeland. And her father’s stern face.
“You’ve changed your mind.” He pulled open the heavy wooden door and allowed her to pass. Inside, her mother sighed and wrapped her in a hug.
“You’ve made the right choice,” she murmured into Antonia’s hair. “We knew you’d come back to us.”
Her father stood stiffly at her side. “I am pleased.”
That was as much as she’d get from him. Taking a long inhale of her mother’s scent, she detached and grabbed her suitcase. “I’m going to take a very long shower and then lie down for a while.”
“Take as long as you need, my dear.” Her mother squeezed her arm. Antonia shuffled up the creaking staircase, unable to shake the cloud of despondency that had followed her since fleeing the palace. It was the right choice—she’d done the right thing. So why did she feel as if even hearing Louis’s name one more time would make her crack and run back to Monaco?
Up in her room, she shed her clothes and took a long, hot shower. It was nice to be back in familiar surroundings, but the thought of staying in Milan felt like a vice-grip around her freedom. She’d been ready to fly the coop. Monaco had almost been the destination. But something else still awaited her—she just had to figure out what.
After her shower, she opened her laptop and caught up on email. She found three from Louis already. She deleted them unread—it might be the only way to stay strong against him. Her phone, on silent since the day before, had been quietly racking up missed calls and messages from him. She wouldn’t look at it until next week, maybe. Give him time to cool off and forget about her.
Ten days together meant it shouldn’t take long to forget this thing had ever happened…right? She hoped so.
Chapter Eleven
It took a week to get back into something like her old routine. But she knew, more than ever, that she could not stay in Milan. Her father’s business didn’t fit any longer—and she could barely stand to be in his presence. She retreated to her room when she got home each evening, just so she wouldn’t have to see him and the reminder of how he’d bullied her…and Louis.
As she wandered the internet, her hand made its way to her breast for what felt like the hundredth time that day. They’d been so sensitive recently, in a way that bordered on painful. Grimacing, she glanced at the calendar above her desk where her periods were tracked. She made a quick count, knitting her brow when the math didn’t add up.
She counted again. And again. Each time, it showed her period was four days late. Could that be right?
Rigid at her desk, her mind skated around the frightening possibility, hesitant to really entertain the idea. It had to be a mistake. There was no way she could be…they’d always used condoms. Every single time.
Mind racing, she grabbed for her purse and hurried downstairs to visit the pharmacy down the street. She drifted down the sidewalk, nodding vacantly at neighbors she passed. Inside the pharmacy, she purchased the pregnancy test with her head down then raced back to her parent’s house.
It can’t be. It can’t be. Upstairs in the quiet of her own bathroom, she tore through the packaging and sat down to pee. It wasn’t the first pee of the day, but it would have to do. She gnawed on her lip as she awaited the result.
Slowly, two pink lines emerged.
Eyes wide, she didn’t blink for what felt like an hour.
A couple hours and thousands of tears later, Antonia emerged from her bedroom, ready to drop the bomb on her family. She found her parents in the kitchen, fussing over a lasagna for t
heir family dinner that evening.
“There you are.” Her father lifted a brow. “Come lift this.”
“I have some news.”
His face darkened. “Tell us while you help.”
She came to his side, lifting the pan by a potholder as he situated the platter beneath. After a few moments of tense silence passed, she said, “I’m pregnant.”
The dish clattered onto the platter. Her father turned to her, nearly white. Her mother covered her mouth with her hands, face somewhere between elated and concerned.
“Tell me you’re lying.” Her father’s voice was a low hiss.
“I’m not. And you know whose it is. So there’s that.”
Silence swelled in the kitchen. Her father gripped the countertop, knuckles white.
“And what do you plan to do?”
“I’m going to have his baby, of course.”
Her mother let out a sob and enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, my dear, this is such fantastic news.”
“Fantastic?” Her father had snarl in his voice, but he looked less perplexed. “It’s tolerable, at best. We’ll make do. But for now, we must plan how to use this to our advantage.”
Antonia’s gut shriveled. “Use this? What do you mean?”
Her father paced the kitchen, eyes distant as he worked through something in his mind; the same maniacal look he got whenever he plotted against anyone—usually a former client. “He thinks he can use you and drop you, does he? Good things won’t come so easily to this cavalier prince. I’ll show him exactly how the Giovannis operate. We’ll show him what it means to hurt someone.”
“Father, please, don’t do this.”
“Do what?” He spun to face her, eyes wild. “He deserves this, Antonia. He has it coming. And I’ll be the one to deliver it to him.”
“Please, don’t.” The look in his face was scary now—she knew exactly where this would lead. “I don’t want you interfering. You’ve already done that once, and look where it got us. I had my heart broken. You don’t need to get revenge; just let me handle it.”