Chapter 11 Sienna
Sienna
Two pink lines.
That’s how my night starts and how everything changes.
I stare at the test like maybe if I blink, the lines will disappear.
They don’t.
They just sit there on the bathroom counter, accusing me of not being more responsible and proactive, ruining my sense of control.
It’s been two weeks since the accident. Two weeks since I sat in a hospital bed with Ben pacing the room and cursing like he was seconds away from burning down the city, while the doctors repeatedly told him I was fine.
He’s calmer now, or at least he’s pretending to be. He leaves at odd hours, takes calls behind closed doors, and talks in the low voice that makes my stomach twist because I know he’s planning something, but I dare not ask what that might be.
Men come and go through the house, faces I don’t recognize, some who barely look at me when they pass, but Ben always checks on me. Dinner, water, pain meds, everything.
It’s like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t keep an eye on me, I’ll disappear again, or the small knot in my neck will kill me.
And now this.
I’m pregnant.
I shower to try and do something normal, focusing on the steam and water instead of the thousand thoughts rushing through my head. My fingers tremble as I dry off, and I wonder if Ben will notice right away or if I can buy myself some time.
Time to… I don’t know.
Accept it?
I wasn’t ready to become pregnant with the next heir of a crime mob, and the more I think about it, the more I want to run away again.
What kind of future is this for a child?
A knock comes a few minutes later.
Two quick taps, one short.
Him.
That’s his rhythm. The warning bell that I’m about to face off with him again about something.
“Come in.” I try to sound casual.
He opens the door and then steps inside, black shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his muscled forearms.
He looking like he just walked out of a bad meeting. There’s tension in his shoulders and exhaustion behind his eyes.
It changes the second his gaze lands on me. I can feel the heat of his stare and the way it drifts down my body and back up again.
My pulse jumps as he soaks in my shorts and white crop top, taking his sweet time with his assessment before he offers, “Bad time?”
“Depends,” I answer. “Are you bringing good news?”
“Depends,” he echoes, his voice low. “I want to talk about Italy.”
No.
Through the sudden drop in my stomach, I still say, “We already talked about this.”
“No,” he says, evenly. “You yelled, and I listened. That’s not the same thing.”
My shoulders tighten. “Ben—”
“You almost died, Sienna. You were run off the road. You think they’re going to stop because you’re back to painting walls at the bakery and making cookies?”
He doesn’t mean to be an asshole about it, but something must’ve happened to make him second-guess his stance.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he responds.
“Bullshit, Benedikt. Why are you trying to drag me across the world?”
“I want to protect you.”
“I’m not leaving.”
He flexes the muscles in his jaw. “Then you’ll be forcing my hand.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, if you stay, I’ll have to kill them.”
The room stills.
My heart thumps in my chest.
His father.
His brother.
The people who raised him, who made him into this.
“There has to be another way,” I reply softly. “You can’t—”
“I can and will,” he says simply. “They won’t stop until I’m in the ground, and if they come after me again, they’ll come for you, too.”
“You can’t fix everything with blood.”
“That’s the only language they understand.”
He steps closer, and I see the way his eyes flick from my mouth to my neck as if contemplating.
“Why are you fighting me on this?” he asks.
“My grandmother is here.”
“I can fix that.”
“This isn’t your decision.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
Something snaps inside me. “You don’t own me, Ben!”
His hand shoots out, gripping the dresser behind me and caging me in. “No, but I protect you. There’s a difference.”
“Protection isn’t control.”
He leans closer. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes, violence is the answer, princess. Sometimes, I have to force things to happen. But, in the end, I make sure to right my wrongs for those who deserve it.”
I stare back at him and lift my chin because I will not budge on this. “You think this is normal? That you decided to marry a woman you barely know for some stupid kingdom. This isn’t the 17th century. I’m not leaving with you, but you’re more than welcome to go.
“I think it’s necessary.”
The tension between us crackles, and I feel it again, that stupid, magnetic pull that makes me forget every reason I should be angry.
I don’t know what it is, but he rolls into a space with me and says things that piss me off, but I still feel something.
Something that’s not a slap to the face.
Something that isn’t grounded in blackmail and persuasion.
“I’ll give you everything, princess,” Ben continues. “A new life. A new bakery. A new house. Whatever you want. You’ll love it there.”
Still no.
“I’m good here,” I shoot right back.
“Why do you insist on making my life harder?”
“Because you did the same to me.”
He lets out a huff of annoyance, but he doesn’t correct me. He just continues to stand too close, too irritated, and too handsome.
“Is this how we’re going to spend the rest of our lives?” he inquires seriously. “You fighting me all the time?”
“Five years,” I remind him. “You’re off the hook after that.”
“That’s the other way around.”
“That was the agreement.”
“There are always amendments, princess.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue with him anymore about the length of what he believes we’ll stay together.
I’m trying not to even think about it.
“What can I give you to change your mind?” he presses.
“Nothing.”
“Sienna, I’m serious.”
“As am I.”
“You’re not,” he clips back. “You’re being stubborn.”
I meet his vivid blue eyes when I retort, “Then find yourself a new woman to be your wife, Benedikt. I will not change my mind.”
He exhales through his nose, his calm mask cracking by the second. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
He moves closer, pressing my body firmly against my dresser, and every nerve ending in my body lights up in anticipation. “Let’s not bullshit each other, princess. I don’t want a new woman. I want you. I chose you. And I’m going to fucking keep you.”
An involuntary shudder rips through me, but I keep myself semi-composed. “Well, you can’t always get what you want.”
“Funny.” He leans down just enough that his breath hits my neck. “I usually do.”
“Manipulation won’t work.”
“This is persuasion,” he counters. “There’s a difference.
You’re fighting me because you want to. Because it keeps this alive in this feeling that this wasn’t normal.
I’m not normal. And your little dream of whatever man you dreamed up in your head is dead.
He won’t get to you, princess. I’ll kill him first.”
I have no doubt he’s serious if I ever dreamt up such a man.
His mouth crashes into mine, hard and demanding. The kind that makes my knees give out, and my brain short-circuit.
His hands slide up my side, fingers grazing bare skin, and my body betrays me, arching into him when I should be pushing him away.
When his tongue coaxes my lips wider, I fall victim.
Again.
My heart’s pounding so fast that I feel dizzy, clutching onto his shoulder for purchase and a crutch.
He groans into the kiss like he’s been starving for it. For me. His hand moves from my sides to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my damp hair as he deepens the kiss, taking his time.
He presses closer until I can feel the reminder in every inch of him how much he can undo me with one kiss. His thumb brushes the underside of my jaw, guiding the kiss like he’s in control of even that. My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging until the fabric bunches in my fists.
He exhales sharply, and I feel the tension rolling off him.
“Ben,” I whisper against his mouth, but he doesn’t answer. He just kisses me again, rougher this time. His hand slides down, finding the hem of my crop top, his knuckles brushing against my stomach and tempting me to allow him to do whatever he wants to my body.
Then, he finally pulls back, and his voice is gravelly against my ear when he says, “That’s what happens when you challenge me, princess. But I’ll be your psycho. If you tell me what this is.”
I try to gather my breathing, my pride rearing itself back up again when I whisper, “A mistake.”
“Try again.”
“You forcing me.”
“Is that why you won’t go to Italy? You think I’m going to trap you even more and drag you away from anyone who could help you?”
Not really.
His gaze sharpens then, and a wave of nervousness washes over me. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he clips out. “I can see it in your eyes. Something happened.”
Oh, something happened alright.
“I just don’t want to go,” I emit evenly. “Period.”
“Because…”
“My grandmother is here.”
“I told you I’d fix that.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Tell me.”
“Ben—”
“Tell me.”
He’s pissing me off.
“I just told you.”
“You just told me, huh?” He brushes his thumb along my jawline, and I melt for the simple action. “We’ve moved to more secrets.”
I don’t like how he said that.
He’ll know eventually, like when I start showing and doing God knows what.
Maybe if I tell him, he won’t want to stress me out and drop the subject line of this conversation.
“I’m pregnant.”
He blinks once. Twice. Then presses quietly, “You’re what?”
I swallow hard and force out, “Pregnant. I took a test this morning.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, he exhales unsteadily, pressing a hand to the wall like he needs to ground himself.
Then he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You’re serious?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.”
Something shifts in him. The tension drains from his features, replaced by something feral as he steps forward, takes my face in both hands, and kisses me.
Not carefully.
Not polite.
Just real.
The fabric of my crop top rises as he pulls it over my head and moves to grab my breasts. His thumbs graze over both nipples at the same time, causing a needy moan to rumble from my throat.
“You have no idea what this means to me, princess.” Then he kisses me again and hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my shorts, yanking them down over my butt and tossing them onto the floor.
“Ben… I’m scared.”
He pulls back a bit. “Is it because I’m the father, or because of everything else?”
“Both.”
He exhales noisily. “I’ll never hurt you. You and that baby are mine to protect. That’s not control; that’s loyalty.”
His words tighten my chest. I want to believe him, but my brain is short-circuiting between what he’s saying and what he’s doing.
“You’re shaking.”
I inhale. “I’m processing.”
His lips find my neck, slow at first, then hungrier. He leaves a trail down my throat, and my hands instinctively grab his shoulders to steady myself. “I don’t want you to be scared of me. I want you to trust me.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” His tone dips into something darker but not cruel, just honest. “You think I wanted this life? To fight my father, my brother, and the whole damn world just to keep what’s mine?”
“No.”
“Good, then we’re on the same page.” He presses another kiss to my rapid pulse and then says, “I’m falling in love with you, princess. Put that on your list of things to overthink about.”
For a moment, I think I imagined it, but then he says it again, firmer, like he’s daring me to argue.
“I love you, Sienna.”
My stomach flips in excitement and a bit of dread. “You don’t get to say that now.”
“Why not?”
“Because that makes it real.”
He presses his mouth to mine again. “It is real.” And the way he says it, a little certain, almost makes me believe him. “And you’re going to show me it’s real, princess.”
“H-how?”
One of his hands drops between my legs and cups my pussy when he mutters, “You’re going to mark me. You’re going to come on my cock. You’re going to moan my name when I thrust into you because you love how I fuck you. And I’m going to give you and our baby the world.”