Jennie Lucas - Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child

She rubbed her forehead. “You swore on your honor you couldn’t get me pregnant,” she muttered. “Your honor .”

Diogo’s dark eyes swept her face, pulling out every secret she’d ever tried to keep, leaving her vulnerable and bare. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to cry out. “I’m the father, Ellie. Say it!”

“I hate you,” she whimpered.

“Say it!” he thundered.

“All right!” she shouted. Tears of grief and rage streamed down her face. “You’re the father!”

Timothy gave a loud, high moan. She turned to him desperately. “I’m so sorry. So sorry…”

She tried to reach for him, but he slapped her hand away. Bitterly, he turned to Diogo.

“Take her, and be damned. She’s filled with your child. It disgusts me. Another whore for you. Another bastard—”

Diogo punched him hard across the jaw. Ellie screamed as Timothy dropped like a stone into the lush green grass.

The Brazilian turned to her, and the rage in his eyes made her draw back in confused fear. He blinked, staring at her. His dark eyes suddenly looked sad, as if haunted by shadows and ghosts of long ago.

Then he abruptly turned away without a word. At his signal, two black sedans pulled forward on the street. As a bodyguard opened the door, Diogo pushed her gently into the backseat, holding her against the leather as he drew the seat belt over her body. She struggled, but his grip was implacable. His hands were like iron shackles wrapped in silk.

And every accidental brush of his fingertips made her feel fire in her veins. How could she fight her own desire? How? She swallowed, trying to control the pounding of her heart as she glanced through the back window.

“Timothy—”

“He’ll have a headache.” His teeth gleamed in a feral growl. “He deserves worse.”

Why? What had Timothy done? But she didn’t have the nerve to ask. She had far more pressing issues to worry about. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the airport.” He sat next to her as the driver pulled away. She could feel his thigh pressing against hers through the layers of her wedding dress.

He looked down at her, his eyes black as onyx. Then he gave her the heavy-lidded half smile that had led so many women to ruin.

“Now,” he said, “you belong to me.”

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