Chapter 14 Simeone
Simeone
The words hit me like a bullet to the chest, stopping my heart for one perfect, crystalline moment before it explodes back to life with a rhythm that could power the entire city.
Pregnant.
Loriana stands in my office, chin raised defiantly—that gesture that always stirs something in me. She delivers life-changing news with casual directness, but I catch the tremor in her hands that betrays her fear.
She’s carrying my child.
My child.
The possessive roar that rises in my chest is primal, territorial, absolutely devastating in its intensity. This magnificent woman—fire and steel wrapped in jasmine perfume—has taken the seed I planted in her willing body and created something miraculous.
“How long have you known?” My voice comes out rougher than intended, thick with emotions I’m still processing.
“I suspected for some days now, and Dr. Scalise just confirmed it.” She wraps her arms around herself like armor, and I hate that she feels the need to protect herself from me. “I’ve only been with you that one time.”
That one time is referring to the night in her apartment when I claimed her innocence and marked her as mine in the most fundamental way possible. When I buried myself so deep inside her that I left a permanent reminder of our connection.
Pure, overwhelming joy floods through me—the kind of happiness I thought I’d lost the capacity for after twenty years of violence and moral compromise. But underneath the joy runs something darker, more possessive.
She’s mine now. Completely, irrevocably mine.
Not just because of the protection I offer or the passion that burns between us, but because she’s carrying the next generation of the Simeone Codella bloodline. My heir. My legacy. The future I never dared to dream about.
“Stellina.” I rise from my chair slowly, noting how she takes an instinctive step backward. “Come here.”
“Simeone, I need you to understand something—”
“Come. Here.” The command in my voice brooks no argument, and after a moment’s hesitation, she moves closer. Not close enough—never close enough—but within reach.
I cup her face with hands that shake with the magnitude of what she’s given me. “You’re pregnant with my child.”
“Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean—”
“It means everything.” I lean down until our foreheads touch, until I can feel her breath ghosting across my lips.
“It means you’re not just under my protection anymore—you’re the mother of my heir.
It means this isn’t temporary, this isn’t negotiable, this isn’t something you can walk away from when you get bored with my world. ”
Her brown eyes flash with familiar fire. “I’m not walking away from anything. But I’m also not some broodmare you can claim just because we had sex once.”
“Once was enough.” My thumbs stroke across her cheekbones, and I feel the moment her body betrays her with a slight tremor. “Once was enough to create a life, to bind us together in a way that can never be undone.”
“Biology isn’t destiny, Simeone. Having your baby doesn’t make me your property.”
The protest is sharp, defiant, absolutely magnificent in its futile bravado. She’s fighting this with everything she has, clinging to the illusion that she has a choice in what comes next.
She doesn’t.
“Doesn’t it?” I step closer, backing her against the wall beside my bookshelf. “Your body chose me, stellina. Your body opened for me, welcomed me, gave me exactly what I needed to plant my seed deep inside you.”
Her breath catches at the crude language, but I can see the heat building in her eyes despite her protests. “That’s not—it doesn’t work that way—”
“Tell me you don’t want me,” I whisper, bracing my hands against the wall on either side of her head. “Tell me your pulse doesn’t spike every time I get close. Tell me you don’t think about that night in your apartment, about how perfectly we fit together.”
“That’s just physical attraction,” she manages, but her voice lacks conviction. “It doesn’t mean anything beyond—”
“Beyond what? Beyond the fact that you let me be your first? Beyond the fact that you trusted me with your virginity?” I lean closer, until my chest brushes against her breasts with every breath. “Beyond the fact that your body chose mine to create our child?”
The reminder of her inexperience, of the gift she gave me that night, makes something primitive and possessive unfurl in my chest. She was pure before me, untouched by any other man, and now she’s carrying the proof of my claim on her body.
“One night doesn’t equal a lifetime commitment,” she argues, but I can feel the way her body melts toward mine despite her words.
“One night created a lifetime responsibility.” My hand moves to her still-flat stomach, splaying across the silk of her dress. “My child is growing in here. My blood mixing with yours. Tell me that doesn’t change everything.”
“It changes some things,” she admits quietly. “But it doesn’t mean we’re in love. It doesn’t mean we’re going to live happily ever after just because I’m pregnant.”
“You think this is about love?” I ask, and the bitter edge to my voice surprises even me. “This isn’t some fairy tale, stellina. This is about possession, about claiming what’s mine.”
Her eyes flash with something that might be hurt or relief. “So you’re admitting this is just about ownership?”
“I’m admitting that what I feel for you goes beyond anything I understand or control.” I lean closer, until my lips brush against her ear. “Call it obsession if you want. Call it madness. But don’t call it love—I’m not capable of that kind of weakness anymore.”
“Obsession,” she breathes, and I can hear both fear and fascination in her voice.
“The most consuming kind.” My mouth finds the sensitive spot below her ear, and I feel her shiver despite her protests. “The kind that makes men tear down kingdoms and build new ones from the ashes. The kind that creates dynasties.”
“I don’t want to be conquered,” she protests weakly.
“Too late.” I nip at her throat, tasting the jasmine scent that’s been haunting my dreams. “You surrendered to me that night in your apartment. Your body, your trust, your innocence. You gave me everything.”
“That was different—”
“Was it?” My hands frame her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Because what I remember is you pulling me into your bed. You kissing me like you were starving for my touch. You crying my name when I made you come apart in my arms.”
Heat floods her cheeks at the explicit reminder, but her eyes don’t look away. “That was just sex.”
“Just sex doesn’t create this kind of bond, stellina. Just sex doesn’t leave you thinking about someone constantly. Just sex doesn’t make you willing to risk everything for a few hours in someone’s arms.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking—”
“I know you haven’t been with anyone else since that night.” The words come out harder than intended, edged with possessive satisfaction. “I know you’ve been as obsessed with me as I am with you, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
“How could I be with anyone else? I’ve been living in your house under armed guard.”
“That’s not why.” I press closer, until every inch of my body is aligned with hers, until she can feel exactly how much her proximity affects me. My hardest parts press against her softest. “You haven’t been with anyone else because your body knows who it belongs to now.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
“No? Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your pupils dilated? Why are you looking at my mouth like you’re remembering exactly how it tastes?”
I am remembering, and the knowledge makes my cock harden with need I’ve been denying for too long. She’s been sleeping in my bed for over a week, her body pressed against mine every night, and I’ve been the perfect gentleman because I gave her my word.
But everything’s different now.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” I challenge, my voice dropping to that whisper that makes her toes curl. “Tell me you don’t think about that night, about how good we were together. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you right now.”
“I—” She starts to protest, but the words die when I brush my thumb across her lower lip.
“Tell me,” I repeat, moving my hands to her waist, feeling the soft silk of her dress beneath my palms. “Tell me you don’t want me to put my hands on you. Tell me you don’t want me to remind you exactly why your body chose mine.”
“Simeone,” she breathes, and my name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a curse rolled into one.
“I can feel your heart racing,” I murmur as I slide one hand up to rest against her ribs. “I can see the way your breathing has changed. Your body knows the truth even if your mind hasn’t caught up yet.”
“What truth?” The question comes out barely audible.
“That you’re mine. That you’ve been mine since the moment you walked into my office asking for protection. That carrying my child just makes it official.” My hand moves back to her stomach, protective and possessive. “That we’re getting married.”
The words hang in the air between us like a verdict, final and absolute. Loriana’s eyes widen with shock, then narrow with familiar defiance.
“We’re what?”
“Getting married. As soon as it can be arranged.” I say it like it’s already decided, because it is. “My child deserves legitimacy, and you deserve my name and everything that comes with it.”
“I don’t want your name,” she protests, but there’s less heat in it than I expected.
“You’ll take it anyway. Because it’s the right thing to do, because it protects our child, because it makes you untouchable to anyone who might threaten you.” I lean closer, until my breath ghosts across her lips. “And because deep down, you want to belong to me as much as I want to possess you.”
“You can’t just decide we’re getting married—”
“I can, and I have.” My voice hardens with authority that’s moved mountains and toppled governments. “You’re carrying my heir, stellina. That makes this a matter of family honor. Of legacy. Of ensuring the Codella bloodline continues.”
“So this is about bloodlines and legacy?” There’s hurt in her voice that makes something twist in my chest. “Not about love or choice or what we actually want?”
“This is about everything.” I capture her lips in a kiss that’s meant to prove a point but becomes something else entirely—desperate, hungry, full of all the emotions I can’t quite name.
We separate like survivors breaking the surface of deep water, lungs burning, hearts hammering. The want in her eyes cuts through every rational argument we’ve constructed between us.
“You can’t force me to marry you,” she whispers, but her hands are fisted in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
“I’m not forcing anything.” I trace the line of her jaw with gentle fingers. “I’m offering you everything I have, everything I am. My name, my protection, my devotion for the rest of our lives.”
“And if I say no?”
The question hits harder than it should because we both know she won’t say no. Can’t say no. Not with my child growing inside her, not with the way her body responds to mine, not with the undeniable connection that’s been burning between us since the moment we met.
“You won’t,” I say simply. “Because you’re too smart to walk away from this, too practical to deny our child the advantages that come with being legitimate. And too honest to pretend you don’t want everything I’m offering.”
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of us.” My hands frame her face again, thumbs stroking across her cheekbones. “I’m sure that our child deserves parents who are committed to each other and to making this work.”
“And if it doesn’t work? If we make each other miserable?”
“Then we’ll be miserable together.” The honesty in that admission surprises even me. “But we’ll give our child a name. A legacy. A future worth having.”
She searches my face for the trap, the game, the hidden agenda. There isn’t one. For once in my life, I’m offering exactly what I appear to be offering—nothing more, nothing less.
“I need time to think,” she says finally.
“How much time?” I ask, though I already know the answer will be irrelevant. My child needs legitimacy, and Loriana needs my protection. Everything else is just details.
“I don’t know. A few days? A week?”
“You have until tomorrow night.” The ultimatum drops between us like a stone into still water. “We’ll have dinner, we’ll discuss the arrangements, and you’ll give me your answer.”
“And if my answer is no?”
I lean down until my lips brush against her ear, until my voice becomes the whisper that haunts her dreams. “Then I’ll spend however long it takes convincing you that yes is the only answer that makes sense.”
Her composure wavers, and I feel the shift between us like a tide turning. I haven’t broken her—I’ve simply waited for her to stop breaking herself against an impossible choice.
She’s mine. She’s carrying my child. And tomorrow night, she’ll agree to become my wife.
The only question left is whether she’ll surrender gracefully or make me work for every inch of ground I gain.
The decision is made, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
She’s become my fixed point in a chaotic world.
I’ll move heaven and earth to keep her there.