Page 190 of The Billionaire's Secret

"Even I have my shortcomings, it seems," he retorts.

"Or maybe you didn’t want to find out what I meant?" I tip up my chin, "Admit it, you don’t want this child."

48

Saint

"I want to take care of you, Victoria." I keep my gaze focused on the road. "Since the first time I saw you, it’s all I’ve wanted to do. I can’t share you with anyone else."

"Not even our child?"

"I didn’t say that." I tighten my jaw.

"What are you saying then?"

Her voice sounds tired, defeated. I glance sideways to find her hunched back into her seat. Dark circles surround her eyes. There are hollows below her cheekbones. Her beautiful hair is disheveled. She looks fragile, exhausted by everything she’s faced. I tighten my fingers on the steering wheel. I had failed in my duties as her husband. I had promised to protect her, shield her from the world. I had let my fears, the bad things I’d imagined could happen, get in the way.

Oh, a part of me had guessed what she was trying to say that day.

My subconscious had clocked the way she had placed her palm on her belly, how she’d glanced at me with hope and trepidation. How she’d straightened her shoulders, ready to take on anyone, even me—the man who was hers. I slam my hand against the steering wheel.

She stiffens.

"Sorry," I mutter under my breath. Fuck, for someone who always knows what he wants, I sure am unable to interpret the signals that my brain is trying to send me. "Come back with me, Gigi. Give me a chance to show you how it could be between us."

"You mean, hurt me again? Trample all over my feelings and refuse to acknowledge what’s between us?"

"I love you. I’ve told you that already. Hell, I married you."

"And served me divorce papers."

"I thought that’s what you wanted."

Her lips turn down. She glances away.

Anger laces my blood. Frustration twists my guts. "Let’s talk about this later, shall we?"

She nods.

That worries me more. Gigi’s always been a fighter, feisty to the core, challenging me at every turn. Fuck, that’s what had attracted me to her—that core of unshakeable steel inviting me to push her, control her, try to manipulate her to get a response from her. Perhaps the entire ordeal had finally caught up with her. That fucker, Antonio, had accomplished what I hadn’t been able to do during the course of our time together. No way, am I letting him get away with this latest attempt at trying to kidnap her. If he thinks simply getting some woman to record a video asking me to keep away was going to cut it, then he is wrong, so wrong.

I pull up at the curb of Claridge's. Jumping out of the car, I walk around to open the door. She steps out. I grab her hand, entangle our fingers, and lead her up the sidewalk.

A gust of wind blows, knocking over the sign the homeless man holds. It falls right in my path. I pause, glance down.

"How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears."

I swear aloud; she stiffens.

"What’s wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing…" I step over the hardboard sign, head for the door of the hotel.

"Thanks for dinner," Homeless guy calls out.

I pause, half turn, to find he's packing up his shit. He places his hat on his head, then rises to his feet.