My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(55)

“But I do.”

“Good luck conceiving them by sucking my cock and having your pussy licked, because that’s about the only sexual encounters you’ll be having.”

A woman behind him choked on her pickled mackerel.

My cheeks flamed. “You mean you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“I want to have sex with you. There are few things I want more, Shortbread. Coincidentally, not having children is one of them, so the answer is no. We won’t have sex.”

I was so speechless, I didn’t even care that half the people around us had stopped eating and chosen to watch us like we were a movie premiere.

“Never say never.”

“That might be the silliest saying I’ve ever heard in my life. People say never to many things. Bungee jumping without a rope, hard drugs, pineapple pizza—”

“I like pineapple pizza.”

He downed half his drink. “Christ. It keeps getting worse.”

I sat back, trying to figure out what I found more unappealing—my husband’s personality or the snails on my plate, which tasted like they were 3D-printed.

“Why are you so against children?”

“Other than the fact that I detest them personally? They interrupt your sleep, lower your quality of life, demand every moment of your time, and are generally a crushing disappointment when they reach adulthood.”

My glare alone called bull.

But since he refused to catch my gaze, I said, “You and I both know that children are a vanity project, not an investment. It is a knee-jerk reaction of civilization to preserve itself. There’s something bigger that’s keeping you from having children, and it’s not discomfort. You’re in a financial position to rear offspring without ever having to deal with them.”

A flicker of interest zinged through his eyes. “You’re not a complete idiot, are you?” I folded my arms, tilting a brow up. “Well, you happen to be right. There is a bigger agenda behind all this. I don’t want to have children because I want to cut the Costa dynasty off.”

“I thought you and Bruce are fighting over Costa Industries.”

“We are.”

“Why do you need to inherit this company if you’re not going to pass it down to your hypothetical spawn?”

“You do the math, Shortbread.”

It took me less than a second to figure it out.

So, he could ruin it. Run it to the ground. Destroy it like he did everything else his cold hands touched.

Such a Romeo thing to crave destruction.

From one family dinner, I’d gathered that Senior cared about one thing and one thing only—Costa Industries.

To kill his only love would be a cruel blow before he perished.

An act of pure vengeance.

The reason behind Romeo’s hatred taunted me. I wasn’t na?ve enough to think he’d actually confide in me.

Nonetheless, an idea sprouted in my head.

Romeo didn’t want children. I didn’t want him in my vicinity. What would he do if I fell pregnant?

Would he divorce me or send me back to Chapel Falls with my dignity and wedding ring intact?

The plan wasn’t completely ideal.

For one thing, it hurt to think my child wouldn’t have a father figure in Romeo. But I refused to abandon my dream of becoming a mother.

Anyway, this hypothetical kid of mine would have the entire Townsend family at their disposal. Sans Daddy, who was officially stripped from grandfather duties for being a complete wuss.

It was pointless to tell Romeo about my plan for us.

So, I sipped my champagne. “Fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you take me for a fool? You would never give up so easily.”

“Sorry, hubs, but your DNA doesn’t exactly scream hot commodity.”

“You would reproduce with a Trader Joe’s organic bag if you truly wanted a kid.”

“Would you like me to get down on my knees and beg you?”

“Yes, but not for a baby.”

Laughing hollowly, because there was nothing funny about our situation, I pointed out, “You’re not wrong. Children are too time-consuming and exhausting for a lazy, messy girl like me. We can have sex without getting pregnant, you know.”

“Thank you for the astonishing piece of news.” His eyes smoldered as he cut through his dish with the precision of a neurosurgeon. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Well, safe was the last thing we’d be. I’d kill his plans by getting pregnant—giving him the heir he never wanted—and free myself from his talons.

His fork hovered before his lips. “Enjoying your dish?”

“Almost as much as the company,” I cooed.

For the rest of dinner, we pretended to be a normal couple.





“I’ve never met a man so eager to lose all of his teeth.”

At Romeo’s mutter, I peered up from Frankie’s text.

My heart nose-dived to my gut.

Madison sat on the hallway carpet, his back pressed against our door. The bluish light from his phone shimmied across his forehead.

As soon as he spotted us, he stood, painting remorse on his disheveled face.

His motive clicked with the force of thunder. Madison and Romeo had begun a calculated game. I was the objective—the ball—they kicked back and forth.