Page 8 of It Hurts Me
“And where are you in all of this?”
“I’ll be around…when I’m around.”
“Do you actually want to have a family, or do you just want me to raise your children?”
He stared at me without blinking, without taking a breath. “I want to have a family. But let’s be honest here. I provide—and you nurture. I want to spend time with my children, but you’re going to be the primary caregiver. I won’t insult you by promising to be there all the time when I know I won’t be.”
It angered me, but I couldn’t feel angry when he was honest with me. As far as I could tell, he’d never lied to me. And even though he was harsh sometimes, I treasured that honesty. “I always imagined we would do this after you retired.”
“I’m too young to retire. And I don’t want to be an old dad.”
“I don’t know if I could bring a child into our lives in good conscience, knowing what you do.”
“How would you feel if I said I didn’t want to have a child with you because you’re a whore or a stripper?” he snapped. “No one should be ashamed of how they earn a living—and I won’t be.”
“Being a hit man and an erotic dancer are not comparable.”
“I’m not going to change my stance on this. If you want to have children, this is how we’re having them.” He grabbed the glass and finished it off before he stood up. “I need to do a few things in my office before bed.” He walked up the stairs, and then his steps disappeared when he reached the next landing.
I sat there alone…like I always did.
I sat down at my desk and opened my emails.
I read the message from George. Mr. Bianchi will be there at three this afternoon. This will be a private viewing, so make sure your gallery is vacant for his arrival. Take care, George.
It was a bit presumptuous and arrogant, but I was used to these types of clients. But to assume I would clear my schedule for a man I’d never met—that was over-the-top. He was probably an old, insufferable man who had turned into a jackass in old age because he had no one to keep him in check anymore. His wife had left him, taking half his money when she couldn’t stand him anymore.
Thankfully, all my appointments were in the morning and my schedule was clear in the afternoon, so it was easy to accommodate the diva-like request. I made sure there was champagne and a plate of appetizers so I could greet him like the queen that he was.
I sat behind my desk and realized it was fifteen minutes after three and the guy hadn’t shown up yet.
Typical.
My eyes were on the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of our gallery, and that was when I saw a man in a gray t-shirt that fit snugly around his thick arms step into my view. He wore black jeans and boots, and he spoke on the phone, stopping in front of me to finish the conversation.
My eyes moved to his tight ass in those jeans.
The sex with my husband used to be good, but it’d become irregular and obligatory in the last six months. It never scratched the itch that I had. It seemed like he didn’t care whether I came or not, like his mind was so preoccupied that he just wanted to get the deed done so he could go to sleep or finish up something in his office.
So it was hard not to notice this hunk of a man in front of the window.
He finished his phone call and shoved the device into his pocket—and that was when I noticed it.
The skull ring on his left hand.
My heart gave an enormous lurch, and my back muscles spasmed like I was about to fall over in my chair.
He turned the corner and approached the double glass doors before he walked inside, the same man I’d seen in the rain, six-foot-something of pure masculinity and raw sexiness. He had the shadow on his jawline, the dark eyes straight from the underworld, the muscles that had as much horsepower as a race car.
His shirt didn’t stick to his hard chest like it had in the rain, but I remembered the visual quite well. My eyes quickly roamed over his body and appreciated every inch because he was god’s gift to women…and men.
A slightly annoyed look was in his eyes, like he didn’t want to spend his time picking out art. But then his eyes found mine, and a slow look of recognition appeared there. His dark eyes hardened at the realization, but he didn’t say a word.
I left the desk and walked up to him, my heels wobbling left and right because I forgot how to walk in them. Even with the four extra inches of height they provided, the man still towered over me like the Eiffel Tower over the old buildings in Paris. I stood directly before him now, but I still hadn’t found the words to greet him. Everything in me died at the sight of him, like I’d completely forgotten how to be human.
He didn’t say anything either, taking in my appearance as if trying to memorize it.
My mouth was dry, and my palms were slick with sweat. “Small world, huh?”