Page 17 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
It was honey-colored skin gleaming with moisture, a waist supple as a snake, and those legs wrapped tight around mine.
The arch of her neck, her trembling breasts, and those eyes.
Green, looking at me in that dim light, defiant, genuinely angry, and those words.
"You're not so high and mighty after all."
Bad game. I thought, pushing the image down. All bad moves. She was the cheapest piece on the board.
My phone buzzed.
Federico sent a screenshot—a hospital test report. Name: Olivia Adrian. I skimmed past the dense medical jargon, found the conclusion. Four weeks pregnant.
I stared at that report, couldn't help cursing.
Fuck, what the hell is this?
I sat in the car, sounds from outside coming through the glass,muffled, distant. I looked at that test report again, confirmed I hadn't misread.
She was pregnant.
I put the phone down and pressed my index finger against my temple.
The news spread out in my head, piece by piece fitting together—six weeks ago, the club, that blonde woman, then what? Then I didn't fucking use protection!
"Fuck!" I swore, held it in a moment, couldn't help it, swore louder.
In the rearview mirror, the driver's back went rigid, but I couldn't care less right now.
Total mess! How does it work on the first try?!
I clenched my jaw, forced myself to calm down.
And she hid the child's existence.
Why?
She could've used this kid to get anything she wanted. Money, status, power.
But she said nothing.
Was there some bigger conspiracy behind this?
Olivia Adrian. This woman was becoming more of a puzzle.
I frowned and sent Federico a message. "Check who's contacted her in the last month."
His reply came fast. "Got it. But... sir, you mean?"
I didn't reply, flipped my phone face down on my knee, and looked out the window.
Much as I hated to admit it, the logic was clear.
Bianca was gone. The Colonna alliance was gone. The old bastards inside the family waiting to watch me fail were already sharpening their blades—a Visconti family head caught in this kind of scandal right before his engagement wasn't just about face. It was a signal. A signal about whether I could still control this game. They'd use this to pry loose everything I hadn't nailed down yet.
I needed a child.
Not because I wanted one. I needed one. A Visconti heir, a reason to shut those old bastards up, tangible proof the family bloodlinecontinued. This child could squash a lot of trouble that would otherwise take enormous effort to handle.
