Babies For the Billionaire

Part Five

"No, I have something going on then. I might be able to catch the tail-end of it, but don't get your hopes up." She replied, continuing bluntly with a smile, "No worries though, I'll be helping you on the morning of this loveless marriage." Val kissed my cheek and waved goodbye, "I'll see you then, Ar. Bye, Rafaello."

When I heard the slam of the front door closing, I sat forward and stared unseeingly at the counter top.

Loveless marriage.

Leave it to Val to put everything in black and white for you. I held back a sad sigh.

Loveless marriage, I repeated to myself. Would it really be loveless? I loved him, but could he ever love me back? I thought surely he'd love our children, but then again. . .

Men like Rafe didn't settle down. Ever. Men like Rafe didn't have children. Singular, or plural, the playboy life meant no offspring, period.

Rafe was only in this marriage trap to protect his image.

I suddenly grew angry.

It was true. He only wanted to keep the scandalous former secretary from blabbing her mouth to the press.

I stood, the stool jerking out from under me, and sent Rafe a look of fiery daggers before stomping out of the kitchen.

"Tesoro? Tesoro, what's wrong?" Rafe called from behind me. He knew exactly what was wrong. "Areila?" His voice was now closer as he followed after me, quickly grabbing my arm and pulling my to face him. "Don't ignore me, Areila! Tell me what's wrong, talk to me!"

"As if you don't know," I spat. Rafaello gave me an incredulous look, like he had no idea what I was talking about.

"No, obviously I don't Ar. So tell me what's wrong. You were perfectly fine a moment ago, what changed? Is this the beginning of those mood swings the doctor warned me about?"

"I can't believe you! This is so not a mood swing, I am not hormonal, and this damn pregnancy has nothing to do with my current mood!" That probably wasn't one hundred percent true.

"Then what happened, Areila? Please help me out here, Ar, because I'm lost." Rafe yelled back at me.

"What happened?" I repeated, "What happened? You happened, Rafaello! You couldn't have just left me alone. No, you just had to watch me at the bar while I was filling in. You just had to get me to sleep with you that night. Is that really all I am to you? Some conquest?" Before he could answer, I continued. "And to your misfortune, this conquest came with consequences. Consequences you had to keep from the press. You force me into this hell because you didn't want the slutty receptionist announcing to the world that the high and mighty Rafaello Geovani got her pregnant. You just want to protect your image. You don't care for me like a fiancèe should. You don't care for our children like a father should. You just care about yourself, and that's what my attitude's about." And with that, I ripped my arm away and stormed up to my room. My own room.

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Letting the door slam shut behind me, I let out a huff of air through my nose. "Mood swings the doctor warned you about," I muttered angrily. "Mood swings! As if he could even fathom what it's like to be pregnant, and he's going off about mood swings." I stalked over to my closet, half-wishing I could curse him in Italian, and started rummaging around.

And to think we'd slept in the same bed! I thought bitterly before pulling out a winter coat; the fur on the inside soft and cozy. I shrugged into it and slipped my socked feet into a pair of boots sitting near the corner of my bed.

I stomped out of my room and hurried down the stairs, the unexplained anger still bubbling and seething within me as I passed the kitchen entrance.