Page 70 of His Son's Ex

I’m still seething with anger, even as the cool, early evening air tries to take the edge off.

I don’t even know where I’m going. My phone’s in my purse, but I’m too rattled to dig for it, too wound up to think straight. All I know is I need to get as far away as possible from that building and Dante.

I finally stop at an intersection about a block away. My hand drifts to my stomach. It’s almost instinct at this point.

"Eva."

I startle at the sound of my name, spinning around to see Dante’s limo pulling up to the curb. The tinted window rolls down, the dim glow from inside casting sharp shadows on his face, nothing but concern in his eyes.

I hesitate, my first instinct telling me to keep walking. But my feet stay rooted in place.

“Get in,” Dante says quietly. “Please.”

The last word gives me pause. He doesn’t say it often.

I sigh, my shoulders sagging as I glance back at the office building. Going back is out of the question, but walking around aimlessly isn’t exactly a solid plan, either.

Finally, I step off the curb. The driver opens the door, and I slide into the seat across from Dante, the soft leather warm and cozy.

Neither of us speaks at first. The driver reenters the car, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us. I keep my hands clasped in my lap, staring at them like they hold some kind of answer.

“I get why you ran,” he says after a beat. “I put you on the spot, and that was never my intention. But I couldn’t pretend anymore, Eva. I had to know the truth.”

I press myself against the seat, as if hoping it will swallow me whole and take me away from this. My pulse is still racing from everything that just happened—his accusations, my confession, the life-changing revelations.

“You didn’t just put me on the spot, Dante. You backed me into a damn corner.”

His jaw tenses and he looks away, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know I did. But I wanted to hear it from you.”

I shake my head, staring out the window. “You dug into my background. You went behind my back.”

“You were never going to tell me, though I asked you about your past several times,” he counters, voice edged with frustration. “And don’t act like I didn’t have a right to know.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, gaze pinning me in place. “You’re Eva Petrova. And now, you’re carrying my child.”

I flinch. “I didn’t plan this,” I whisper. “I didn’t want it to happen this way.”

His eyes darken. “Yet here we are.”

A lump lodges in my throat. “I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what to do. I was scared. And because…”

“Because what?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Because I don’t know if I can be part of your world. I grew up in this life. I’ve been running from it for almost a decade. I don’t think I can raise a child like that.”

“You don’t have to decide everything tonight. But you’re not doing this alone, Eva.”

I scoff, not sure if I’m mad at him or just mad at the universe. “I’ve been doing everything alone for years.”

“I know,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m telling you, you don’t have to anymore.”

The sincerity in his voice fills me with warmth. I’m not sure if it’s the hormones or just the weight of everything coming down on me at once, but my throat tightens, and I have to look away before I completely lose it.

“Let’s drive around for a bit,” he says, his voice gentler. “So we can talk.”

I swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Please, just drive, anywhere,” he says to the driver who nods before Dante presses a button, the partition sliding up and sealing us off.

Talk. The word feels so heavy, but a part of me is relieved. I’m tired of hiding things, tired of burying who I truly am. Maybe it’s time we lay our cards on the table.