Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
GIA
M y heart stops as Rosco sets his phone on record then swipes to answer my phone. Zack's voice fills the kitchen, smooth and cultured and dripping with false concern. The same tone he used when he wanted something from me, right before the mask slipped and showed the monster underneath.
"Gia, sweetheart, we need to talk."
Rosco's entire body goes rigid. His free hand clenches into a fist, and I watch his jaw tick with barely contained rage. When he speaks, his voice is low, controlled, and absolutely terrifying.
"She's not available."
Silence stretches across the line. I can practically feel Zack's shock radiating through the phone. He's not used to being challenged, especially not by someone who sounds like they could snap him in half without breaking a sweat.
"I'm sorry, who is this?" Zack's tone sharpens, losing some of its calculated charm.
"This is Gia's fiancé. And you're Zack Whitmore, the piece of shit who's been threatening my woman and her baby."
My woman. The possessiveness in those words sends heat spiraling through my belly, even as terror freezes my veins. Zack doesn't handle challenges well. He especially doesn't handle other men encroaching on what he considers his territory.
"Your woman?" Zack's laugh is cold, bitter. "I think there's been some misunderstanding. Gia is carrying my child. We're in the middle of working out custody arrangements."
"No misunderstanding. The baby isn't yours, the woman sure as hell isn't yours, and if you come anywhere near either of them, we're going to have a problem."
"Listen, asshole, I don't know what sob story Gia fed you, but she's not exactly known for her honesty. Did she tell you about the drinking? The instability? The reason I had to file for emergency custody in the first place?"
Lies. Every word a calculated lie designed to make me look unfit. I want to grab the phone and scream the truth, but Rosco catches my eye and shakes his head slightly. He's got this.
"What I know," Rosco says, his voice dropping even lower, "is that you're a coward who threatens pregnant women when you don't get your way. What I know is that you're about to lose this little game you're playing because Gia's not alone anymore."
"Game?" Zack's voice rises, losing more of its polish. "This is my child we're talking about. My family."
"DNA test will say otherwise. But don't worry, we'll get that sorted out real quick once the baby's born. Along with restraining orders, harassment charges, and whatever else my lawyer thinks will stick."
The silence that follows is deafening. I hold my breath, waiting for Zack's next move. He's calculating now, trying to figure out how to regain control of the situation.
"Who are you?" he asks finally.
"Rosco Kane. Look me up." The confidence in his voice makes my knees weak. "Better yet, look up my family. The Kane family has deep roots in this province, and we don't take kindly to bullies."
"This isn't over."
"Yeah, it is. Don't call this number again."
Rosco ends the call and immediately starts scrolling through my phone settings. "I'm blocking his number. Do you have him blocked on social media?"
"Yes, but he creates fake accounts." My voice comes out shaky, and I hate how weak I sound. "He'll find other ways to contact me."
"Let him try." Rosco sets my phone on the counter and turns to face me fully. "You okay?"
"I can't believe you just did that." I'm trembling now, adrenaline and fear and something that might be relief all warring in my system. "He's going to be furious. He'll escalate. He'll..."
"He'll what? Show up here?" Rosco steps closer, his presence solid and reassuring. "Good. I'd love to meet him face to face."
"You don't understand. Zack has resources. Private investigators, expensive lawyers, connections everywhere. He could make your life hell."
"Sweetheart, I've been dealing with difficult people my whole life. Trust me when I say some rich boy from Vancouver doesn't scare me."
The endearment makes my heart flutter, but I can't let it distract me from the very real danger we're now facing. "This isn't just about being difficult, Rosco. He's dangerous. Truly dangerous."
"So am I." The quiet certainty in his voice sends shivers down my spine. "The difference is I’d never use my power against a woman or child, because even though my father was an asshole, he still raised me right."
"Why are you doing this?" The question slips out before I can stop it. " Really? You could have any woman you want. Why take on someone else's problems?"
He studies my face for a long moment, those dark eyes seeing too much. "You really don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"That you're not someone else's problems. You're..." He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. "You're the best thing that's walked into my life in years. Problems and all."
My breath catches. "Rosco."
"I mean it, Gia. Yesterday I was a lonely bastard living alone on a mountain, going through the motions of existing.
Today I wake up to coffee that doesn't taste like motor oil and pancakes that actually have flavor.
Today I have someone to protect, someone to take care of, someone who needs what I have to offer… Today I have purpose."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough. I know you make my house feel like a home.
I know you're brave enough to run toward safety instead of accepting abuse even though you are petrified.
I know you're carrying my child and that makes you the most important person in my world. I know you make my hollow house feel more like a home.” He smiles.
"Besides, Kane men don't give up on what's ours. And you're mine now, Gia. Both of you."
Tears prick my eyes. When was the last time someone saw my strength instead of my neediness? Or didn’t see me as a burden?
His thumb strokes my cheekbone before continuing, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to melt into his touch.
"And I know you're used to handling everything alone,” he continues. But you don't have to anymore."
"You don’t think Zack’s right? That I’m not stable enough to be useful to anyone? Or that I can't be what you need?"
"Hey." His voice is gentle, and he leans his forehead against mine. "Look at me."
I lift my eyes to his, seeing nothing but steady certainty staring back at me.
"Zack is a manipulative piece of shit who's trying to get inside your head.
Don't let him. You left everything behind to protect your child.
You researched options and made a plan to build a stable life.
You walked into a stranger's house and asked for help instead of letting pride keep you in danger.
" His thumb catches a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
"That's not instability, sweetheart. That's courage. "
The endearment breaks something loose in my chest. "I'm scared."
"I know. But you're not alone anymore."
A fierce smile curves his lips. "You think I'm going to let some trust fund asshole scare me away from the best thing that's ever happened to me?"
"I'm not the best thing that's ever happened to you."
"That's not your call to make." He tilts my chin up with one finger. "That's my call. And I'm making it."
The air between us crackles with the same electricity from before Zack's call shattered the moment. But this time it's stronger, more intense, and charged with everything we've just shared.
"Gia," Rosco's voice is rough, strained.
"Yeah?"
"I really want to kiss you right now."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "I really want you to."
"You sure? Because once I start, I'm not going to want to stop."
Heat pools low in my belly at the promise in his words. "I'm sure."
He leans down slowly, giving me time to change my mind, but I don't want to. I want this. I want him. I want to feel something other than fear and uncertainty for the first time in months.
When his lips finally touch mine, it's nothing like I expected. Soft at first, almost reverent, like he's afraid I might break. But when I sigh against his mouth and press closer, he deepens the kiss with a hunger that steals my breath.
His hands slide into my hair, angling my head to fit us together better. I grip his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel his solid strength against me. He tastes like coffee and something indefinably male that makes my hormones do a happy dance.
Pregnancy has made me sensitive to everything, and kissing Rosco is like touching a live wire.
Every nerve ending in my body comes alive at once.
I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, smell the lingering scent of sawdust and pine that clings to him, hear the soft groan he makes when I nip at his bottom lip.
"Fuck," he breathes against my mouth. "You taste incredible."
"So do you." I'm breathless, dizzy with want and the overwhelming need to get closer. "More."
He obliges, kissing me deeper, harder, until I'm pressed back against the kitchen counter with his solid body caging me in. One hand stays tangled in my hair while the other settles on my waist, his thumb stroking along my ribs just below my breast.
I arch into the touch, and he groans again, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
"We should probably slow down," he says, but his hands don't move away from me.
"Should we?" I'm panting, my body humming with need I haven't felt in months. "Why?"
"Because you're pregnant, and scared, and I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage."
"What if I want you to take advantage?" The words slip out before I can censor them, bold and needy and completely honest.
His eyes darken, pupils dilating until they're nearly black. "Don't say things like that unless you mean them."
"I mean them." I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under my palms. "I mean every word."
"Gia." My name sounds like a prayer on his lips.
"I know this is crazy. I know we barely know each other. But I haven't felt safe in months, and you make me feel safe. I haven't felt wanted in even longer, and you make me feel beautiful even when I'm six months pregnant and running from my psycho ex."
"You are beautiful." His hand comes up to cup my cheek again. "So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes."
"Then don't just look." I lean into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Touch me. Please."
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Whatever he sees there must satisfy him because he kisses me again, deeper this time, more demanding.
His hands roam over my back, my sides, careful to avoid my belly but touching everywhere else with reverent appreciation. When his thumb brushes the underside of my breast, I gasp into his mouth.
"Is this okay?" he asks against my lips. "I don't want to hurt you or the baby."
"You won't hurt us." I cover his hand with mine, guiding it more firmly against my breast. "Please, Rosco. I need this. I need you."
The last of his restraint seems to snap. He lifts me onto the counter, settling between my legs, and kisses me like he's trying to devour me. His hands map my body with growing confidence, and I lose myself in the sensation of being wanted, being cherished, being safe enough to let go.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard. My lips feel swollen, my body humming with arousal and the desperate need for more.
"Jesus," he pants. "That was..."
"Amazing," I finish for him.
"I was going to say dangerous." But he's smiling when he says it, his hands still resting on my hips. "You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?"
"Probably." I trace my fingers along his jaw, marveling at the roughness of his beard. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Not even a little bit." He leans in for another kiss, softer this time but no less affecting. "Though we probably should take this slow. Give you time to be sure about what you want."
"I know what I want." I meet his gaze steadily. "I want you. I want this. I want to stop being afraid and start living again."
"What about Zack? The legal stuff? Everything else we have to deal with?"
"We'll deal with it. Together." I slide my hands down to rest on his chest. "But right now, in this moment, I just want to feel like a woman instead of a victim. Can you do that for me?"
"Sweetheart, I can do whatever you need me to do."
The promise in his words makes my heart skip. "Then take me to bed, Rosco Kane. Show me what it feels like to be wanted by a good man."
His eyes flash with heat and something deeper, more possessive. "You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
He lifts me down from the counter, his hands lingering on my waist. "Then let's go make you feel like the goddess you are."
As he leads me toward his bedroom, his fingers intertwined with mine, I feel something I haven't experienced in months. Hope. Real, genuine hope that maybe, just maybe, I've found not just safety but something infinitely more precious.
Rosco turns to look at me with eyes full of promise and desire that fills me with a warmth. Even if we are about to consummate our relationship before our wedding, even if everything about this is backwards and impractical, it feels right. He feels right.
And for the first time since I saw those two pink lines on a pregnancy test six months ago, I'm not running from something.
I'm running toward it.