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CHAPTER SIX

REED

My mouth falls open, and I scowl at the small house. There’s no way in hell George Fanzio’s daughter lives here. No fucking way.

I glance over my shoulder and tilt my head from side to side. This is the right address.

The street is crammed with parked cars, the houses are squashed together, and the tiny property she’s registered to is rundown and not fit for living.

Why in the fuck does she live here? I glance around the street again as if someone will jump out and tell me this is a joke.

Because a Fanzio living in these dire circumstances has to be a joke. I shake my head in disgust. There’s got to be more to it, and I will find out. Hell, I feel like every homeowner on the street is eyeing me up when I throw open my car door.

Stepping out of my car, I don’t miss the curtain twitching at the house next door to Gia’s, and I narrow my eyes at the old bat glaring in my direction. You would think she’s never seen a Bentley Continental GT S convertible before.

A shudder runs down my spine—oh sweet Jesus, maybe she hasn’t.

This is my worst nightmare.

The thought of being out of my comfort zone has a lump forming in my throat, so I swallow away the trepidation pumping inside me, and my stomach does strange flips.

Please don’t be my baby , I chant as I take the handful of stone steps two at a time toward Gia’s front door.

My chest relaxes on my deep exhale, and I press the doorbell, then clear my throat while waiting for it to be answered.

Noise behind the door has my spine snapping straight, but I lean in to listen for footsteps, and none arrive.

Stabbing the doorbell again, I grit my teeth. Along with a multitude of things, being kept waiting is not something I would normally endure without doling out consequences.

Sounds of laughter vibrate through the flimsy walls, and I feel like someone is taunting me. This shithole of a street, with nosy fucking neighbors, a broken fucking doorbell, and now, it’s starting to piss rain. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“For fuck’s sake. Open the damn door.” I thump the door with my fist.

Just as I’m about to knock again, the door swings open, and my gaze drops to a boy with messy hair and an even messier face.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?” I step back and grimace, but have to right myself before I go ass first down the stone steps.

Please don’t come near me. Please don’t come near me , I chant, then briefly close my eyes and will myself to have the strength to proceed.

As much as I want that contract signed, is it really worth all this?

The baby might not be mine.

“My mom’s baking,” the kid says, and I snap my eyes open.

A brown sticky mess coats his face, his chin taking the brunt of it, and, Jesus, he has it on his clothes too. “What is she baking, you?”

Then his word comes back to haunt me. “Mom.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and consider how to deal with this, with him.

Movement behind him catches my eye, and I’m relieved to see Gia heading in our direction. “Bryce, what did I tell you about opening the door?”

The kid rolls his eyes, and her footing wavers when she realizes who’s on the other side of the open door.

Her green eyes flash with pain, and she swallows thickly before she darts her eyes away. When she returns her gaze to mine, all signs of vulnerability are gone, and in its place is anger.

My hands twitch to pull her toward me, to slam my lips against hers, to own her mouth like she owns the part of me I refuse to dig deeper into acknowledging.

“Here. Take this.” She thrusts a spatula dripping with the brown substance into the kid’s hand, and his eyes light up before he spins on his heels and rushes down the hallway. “Don’t run!” she throws out over her shoulder.

“What do you want?” Her pouty lips form a tight bow, and my cock thickens when my thoughts turn filthy.

I want to fuck her mouth so damn hard her lips become raw from sucking me. I want to stretch her mouth and make her choke, force her to take all of me.

“Reed? What. Do. You. Want?” She speaks slower, and my jaw tics at her attitude. Yes, I’d fuck that attitude right out of her after spanking her goddamn fine ass so hard she’ll whimper every time she attempts to sit down.

“I brought you a gift.” I pull the flowers and champagne from behind my back and hold them out for her, then shove them into her chest, giving her no choice but to accept them.

Her eyes narrow. “You brought me champagne?”

“To celebrate.” I gesture toward the bottle.

She scans my face, and I want to jump in delight at how much her attention excites me. “I’m pregnant.” Her monotone voice tells me she’s anything but excited by my gesture.

“I know.” I wave my hand toward her stomach. “It’s hard to miss.” I scoff on a laugh.

She flinches, but I follow it up with a change of subject and get to why I’m here. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

My teeth grind. She’s being fucking difficult, and I want a sensible conversation, one where we can establish a smooth path moving forward and maybe discuss a plan. A contract, even.

Loud squeals of laughter fill the silence from behind her, and I glance over her shoulder, unable to hide the sneer on my lips when I witness what looks to be half a dozen children fighting over a bowl.

Jesus, does she not feed them all?

Can she afford to feed them all?

Sickness wells in my stomach, curdling into a ball of dread.

Her long hair flicks from side to side as she shakes her head. “I need to sort the kids.” She opens the door wider, and I shove past her before she can second-guess her offer.

“You can wait in there.” She points to a room on the left. “I won’t be but a minute.” Then she leaves me in the hallway while she heads to what appears to be the kitchen.

My eyes wander to take in my small surroundings; it’s like a fucking box. A small one. One that needs dropped in the fucking dumpster. Even the best upscales could do nothing with this Tardis.

When my attention latches onto some photo frames on a sideboard, I can’t help but pick one up and scrutinize it.

Gia is smiling in the photo, alongside a shirtless man kneeling beside her and a small boy with a fishing rod in his hand. A wood cabin is in the background, and my throat becomes dry when I consider how happy she looks, how happy they all look.

As her footsteps approach, I snap out of my daze, place the photo down, and take two steps into the direction of the living space she pointed me toward.

A three-seater couch and a chair fill the space, and the only sign of money is the television hanging on the wall. I cluck my tongue at how small it looks, yet I suppose in this confined space, it fits just right.

“Would you like a drink?”

I turn to face her and can’t help but appreciate how beautiful she is. God, she’s stunning, and I’m certain she doesn’t even realize it.

The tight, stretchy-looking dress she’s wearing emphasizes the bump and her impressive rack, causing my mouth to water. Fuck, she’s like a walking wet dream. Even while growing another human. My eyes fixate on her stomach, and I clench my fist, fighting the urge to caress it. Where the fuck did that come from?

“Reed. A drink?”

“No. I-I need you to do a DNA test.” She rears back and her face falls. Fuck, I want to kick myself in the balls for putting that look of disappointment on her pretty face.

“Okay,” she whispers, and shock hits me how easily she gave in. I expected a bit of a fight.

“Okay?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with in years, so I’m pretty certain.” She laughs, but it’s forced.

I jolt. “Years?”

“Yep.” She pops the p , then glares at me while crossing her arms over her chest and pushing her heavy tits higher.

Holy shit, no wonder she was tight.

Very tight. So tight, I questioned if she’d ever slept with anyone else previously.

Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I fumble, aware of her eyes on me. I quickly type out a text, informing my doctor we can follow through with my instructions as I’d planned. I’m about to shove my phone back in my jacket when what I can only describe as a brown wolf leaps toward me. “Holy shit.”

“Chester, down.”

The dog instantly responds, and my heart thumps with relief as my mouth falls open in a dazed shock.

“What in the fuck is that?” I sneer in its direction.

“That’s Chester. He’s visiting,” Gia states.

“Visiting?”

“Yes.” She crosses her arms over her chest again, emphasizing her tits and causing my mouth to water while the dog stares up at me like I’m his next dinner.

“Stop staring at me, fuckwit,” I snap at the dog, but it doesn’t so much as blink. “Is it broken?” I bare my teeth at it.

Gia bursts out laughing. “You’re not a dog person, are you?”

I’m about to tell her I’m not an animal person, but the living room door is thrown open. “Mom! Why can’t Milo sleep over?” The kid from earlier barrels into the room, but at least this time he isn’t covered in filth.

Sweat beads on my forehead, and the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

The dog stands at attention, glaring at me.

“Bryce! Give it back, you’ve already had your turn!” a girl screeches, setting my nerves on edge, and I take a step back from the chaos, feeling well out of my comfort zone.

The dog licks his lips, and I narrow my eyes. “Go away.” He touches my pants with his nose.

Oh, sweet Jesus, there’s slime on my pants. I loosen my tie, but it does nothing to help the way my chest rises rapidly and my throat struggles to work.

“It’s my turn,” another kid screeches, and I squeeze my eyes closed, willing the noise to stop.

How the hell does she cope with this?

Thank God, I’ve no intention of sticking around to find out , I tell myself over and over a-fucking-gain as the kids get louder.

Oh god, Tate was right, it’s like the fucking Brady Bunch on crack!

The kids’ voices seem to be multiplying, so I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth in a calculated move that does nothing to tamper my escalating predicament.

“Enough! Can you guys take this back into the kitchen?” she snaps out, and I open my eyes.

They groan their displeasure, and I thank God for her intervention.

It sounds like dozens of the little fuckers all have something to say about it though. “And Bryce, no sleepover, we already discussed this.”

Jesus, I’m in literal hell.

Who the hell would want to sleep here?