Page 73 of Beauty and the Daddy

"Hello, brother," he says, swiveling the chair to face me. "Interesting night?"

I can see it in the way his shoulders relax, like a man who just found leverage he'll never have to ask for. My pulse drops into a darker gear. The beast in me shows its teeth. Declan looks like he just picked up a blade.

15

BELLE

Pulling away is my new cardio. I swear I burn more calories dodging Luca's eyes than I ever did on a treadmill.

I do this because I need to pull away from Luca Moretti. Like, mentally build a wall, emotionally pack my bags, and spiritually change my phone number.

Because the deeper I fall, the harder the crash when everything blows up—and with a mafia boss baby daddy and his suspicious brother watching my every move, "blowing up" isn't just a metaphor.

It's a guarantee.

So that's how Operation Distance Myself From the sexy beast begins. I'm not sure if it's even possible to friendzone the father of my unborn child, but I sure as hell try.

I keep it breezy. I keep it bright. I keep itcasual. For three days now, it's been "how's your day?" and "good to see you, but I have to go." It's elaborate excuses, sudden headaches, and perfectly timed bathroom breaks whenever he enters a room. It'sexhausting and stupid because the man literally lives here. With me. In his house.

But if I don't keep moving, feelings catch up. And feelings are the last thing I can afford to have right now, when there's a future I need to think about without going all cloudy.

This morning, I slip out of bed before sunrise, tiptoe down the hallway I now call the hall of shame, and make it to the kitchen without running into him.

I'm halfway through managing to get in some form of food without hurling when I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

"Belle? Are you free?"

I spin around to find Sofia standing in the doorway in pink pajamas, her hair a mess of dark tangles.

"Yes, I am sunshine. What's up?"

"It's Sunday and I'm boreeeeed…" she whines.

"Oh no!" I furrow my brows. "Now what can we do about that?"

She looks miserable as she stares out through the window at the rain. "I don't know." The munchkin sighs like she's spent all day playing bridge or knitting.

I hold back a smile. To the kid, it's a big problem being indoors.

"What if we…" I pretend to think, to build up the anticipation, "bake some cookies?"

"For breakfast?" She looks at me like I just offered her the keys to Disneyland.

"Don't tell your dad."

She zips her lips with her finger, then throws away the key. My heart does that stupid little flip-flop thing at how damn adorable she is.

"I'll never tell," she whispers loudly. "Can they be chocolate chip?"

"Is there any other kind worth making?"

And just like that, Operation Distance Myself gets pushed aside for Operation Make Sofia Happy. Call it flipped priorities, but when she smiles, I forget how to run.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen looks like a flour bomb went off. Sofia's standing on a stool next to me, her tongue poking out in concentration as she counts chocolate chips into the bowl.

"Nine, ten, eleven... um, twelve?" She looks up at me, unsure.

"That's right." I nod. "Keep going."