Hormonal (Bonus) II
Camila's POV
The penthouse is grand, bright and I'd had it designed to emit a comfortable elegance, yet as I walk towards the couch and eye the man I was going to be forever tied to, the nervousness makes my stomach turn and I suddenly have the urge to vomit, again.
I push down the urge and instead, focus on the closest thing to a perfect man sitting on the couch, spewing threats to the person on the other end in Italian.
He's sat at the far edge of the sofa, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch, the folded sleeves of his white dress shirt exposing his veiny forearms and the expensive watch I'd gotten him for Christmas. While his legs, clad in a pair of slacks, are crossed in front of him.
The sight of true business man, one that barely had time for a me let alone another being.
Alejandro's head tips to the side, his hard brown eyes connecting with mine and instantly softening. The look so overwhelmingly loving that every ounce of fight left inside me crumbles and I have the urge to cry.
He lifts a hand, ushering me over and I throw my purse on the far side of the couch, ignoring what's inside for the time being. I walk towards him until I'm close enough where he grabs my hand, uncrosses his legs and pulls me down into his lap.
Like clock work, my knees end up on the outside of his thighs and I straddle him, loving the way I'm engulfed by his familiar musky scent as his thick accent fills my ears, "se non puoi aggiustarlo da solo, allora che senso ha lasciarti tenere le tue fottute mani?"
(if you can't fix it yourself then whats the point of letting you keep your fucking hands?)
Despite his words, a hand buries itself in my hair and his fingers begin to lightly massage my scalp while he angles his head away from the phone to place a kiss on the side of my head. "Ciao, Principessa." He murmurs in that deep, throaty voice of his. (Hi, Princess.)
My shoulders immediately drop along with my head as I bury it into the crook of his neck, not bothering with a verbal response. I didn't want to talk, I wanted to bask in the few moments of normal before everything went to shit.
He continues spewing his threats into the phone and I shut my eyes, trying to muster up the strength to break the news to him.
I don't realize he's hung up the phone until his hands travel down to my bare thighs and his palms run along the cold skin, back and forth, the friction warming me up. "Cazzo, why are you wearing a dress in this weather?"
I lift my head and stare up at him, his brows are furrowed, his lips are set in a frown as he stares down at my mini dress. My jeans were all too uncomfortable, but I don't tell him that. "Are you trying to give yourself frostbite?" He continues, in that hard reprimanding tone that fades to a murmur as he moves forward to run his lips along my cheek.
His stubble prickles the skin of my cheek and I lean into his touch while his hands move beneath the hem of my dress until he's grabbing a handful of my ass. "You need to start being more responsible."
I sigh out and angle my head back, allowing his lips to travel down to the junction where my jaw meets my neck, his kisses are soft as he lightly brushed his lips against my skin and the feeling is indescribable. I loved when he was around.
"You're one to talk." I mumble.
"And why is that?" He hums softly, his hands now rubbing my outer thighs, his skin so warm against mine.
I rest my hands on his shoulders as my eyes lift to the ceiling in hopes of pushing past the waterworks, "Because you're the one that..." I trail off, while Alejandro moves down to run his lips along my jaw, completely oblivious to my turmoil.
He shifts me on his lap and nips at my earlobe, "That what, baby. Come on, talk to me." He shifts me on his lap and nips at my earlobe. "You didn't call me today and I missed my girl's voice."
And that does it.
Like a dam, I burst into tears right there in his lap, while the poor man stills before curse under his breath.
"What's wrong?" He doesn't bother hiding the confusion on his face as he cups the side of mine, his thumb roughly brushing away the tears.
Everything yet nothing at the same time.
There was so much I wanted to say, but what I'd managed was a jumbled up sentence. "The dress doesn't fit."
I don't even need to look at his face to know that he's confused, but instead of questioning me, he wipes more tears. "I'll buy you a new one, Principessa. There's no reason to cry."
That only makes it worse. A choked sob erupts from my throat. "You can't. It was a one of a kind Alexander McQueen wedding dress and it's not going to fit me ever again."
He pulls my face closer to his, "We'll figure something out-wedding dress?" His eyes widen and his shoulders straighten out. "We're getting married?"
I send him a glare and wipe at my tears angrily. "Not anymore."
He blinks again, before sighing out and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Camila , baby what's happening? What did I do?"
I manage to reach over, grab my purse and pull out the white pregnancy test, "This!" I scream throwing the white stick at him and watching as it hits his forehead before landing in his lap between us.
He sends me a glare one that morphs into confusion the second he picks up the white sticks. And then I watch it all in slow motion as his face goes from one of confusion, to understanding and finally, distress.
"Is it mine?" Is the first thing out of the idiots mouth.
Anger bubbles up my throat and I push at his chest getting off him. "No, it's Jacob's." I snap.
He stands and in an instantly his hand is darting out to grip my jaw, the look in his eyes hard. "Don't joke about shit like that."
"Would you rather I cry about it?!" I scream as my lower lip quivers.
Is it mine? Who fucking says something like that?
He stares at me, processing this information before shaking his head, his eyes shut and he pinches the bridges of his nose. "Cazzo."
But I don't care, I'm already turning around and storming away from him and towards the walk-in closet of our bedroom.
Screw him. Did he not want a baby? I mean, I had my doubts but it hurt to know that he didn't want a baby with me.
Footsteps sound behind me and I angrily wipe my tears."Well... it's your fault for never using a condom!"
It was true, the man never wore a condom and always finished either on me or inside me.
I make it into the closet just as he catches my hand, spinning me around and pulling my body flush against his. "That's not what I meant." He breathes, his chest heaving as he cradles my face in his large hands. "This isn't terrible news, baby." He mumbles softly, kissing my cheek.
The tears don't stop, not as he kisses my other cheek, not as he swiftly lifts me onto the counter and not even as he steps between my parted legs.
I cry softly while he murmurs little words of encouragement before begining to remove the socks off my feet. His movements soft and the way he handles me with such care pulls at my heartstrings.
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