Chapter 3

POV: Alisha

I woke up with Cristiano’s heavy, muscular arm wrapped tight around my waist.

His bare chest was pressed flat against my back, radiating intense heat through the cold morning air. His steady, warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck. The rich scent of cedarwood, rain, and his clean skin surrounded me on the sofa cushions.

Pale gray light streamed through the large living room windows.

I lay completely still in his arms, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Last night was real. The man I had secretly loved for three long, painful years had spent the night holding my curvy body against his chest like I was the most precious thing in his world.

I shifted slightly to turn over, but the moment I moved, his grip tightened around my waist.

"Stay," his deep, gravelly morning voice rasped right against my ear.

Cristiano rolled me gently onto my back, hovering over me on the sofa. His black hair was messy over his forehead, and the hard lines of his face were softened by sleep. But the moment his dark eyes opened, they locked onto mine with a sharp, burning focus that stole my breath.

He looked down at my bare face, my messy curls spread across the pillow, and the silk robe bunched around my hips. He didn't look away for a single second.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice thick with raw affection.

He brought his large, warm hand up to cup the side of my face. His calloused thumb brushed gently over my cheekbone, tracing down to the corner of my lips. Then he leaned down and kissed me.

The kiss was slow, deep, and warm. It sent a sweet rush of fire straight down to my toes. He kissed me with a lazy, possessive tenderness that made my hands reach up on pure instinct to grip his broad shoulders.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his dark eyes searching my soul.

"Cristiano," I whispered, my voice trembling with the heavy memory of the night before. "You asked me to have your baby."

The softness in his eyes instantly shifted into raw determination. His jaw clenched hard.

He sat up on the sofa, letting the cashmere blanket fall to his waist. His back was wide, sculpted with hard athletic muscle, and dark ink traced the curve of his ribs. He dragged a hand through his hair and looked down at me with absolute seriousness.

"The elders and lawyers my mother brought with her last night are still at the estate," he said, the anger returning to his deep tone. "She just sent a message through my agent. She gathered the football club board and set the mandatory contract signing for twelve o'clock today."

My stomach dropped with a cold shock. "Noon? That is only a few hours from now."

"She thinks she can trap me by forcing me to sign in front of the elders and the board," Cristiano said. He turned, taking both of my hands into his large, warm palms. "If I show up alone and refuse, she will tell the media I abandoned my family duties. In our country, that kind of scandal will give the club an excuse to suspend me."

I looked down at our joined hands, feeling the strength in his fingers.

"So what are you going to do?" I asked softly.

"I need you to pack your bags and move into my mansion this morning," he said, his dark eyes burning straight into mine. "I need you by my side at noon. I need to show my mother and the board that I have already chosen my woman."

The room suddenly felt cold around me.

"Move into your house?" I pulled my hands back, sitting up and clutching the silk robe tight against my chest. "Cristiano, listen to what you are saying. I have a normal life. I work a normal job. You have cameras and reporters outside your gates every single day. Your mother will tear me to pieces."

"I don't give a damn about the reporters," he said, leaning in close, refusing to give me space. "And my mother cannot lay a finger on you while you are under my roof."

"This is not just about a room in your house," I said, looking straight into his eyes, letting all my rawest fear bleed through my voice. "You asked for a baby, Cristiano. A child is not a game. I cannot move in just to be a temporary shield against your mother, only for you to throw me aside when the fight is over."

A flash of genuine pain crossed his sharp features. He reached out with sudden urgency, wrapping his strong hands around my waist and pulling my soft, curvy body flush against his hard thighs.

"Do you really think I could ever throw you away?" he asked, his voice shaking with fierce emotion. "I spent three agonizing years staying away from you because I thought I was protecting you from the madness of my life. But after holding you in my arms last night... after feeling your body against mine... I am never letting you go, Alisha."

My throat locked tight, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. "Cristiano..."

"Come with me," he begged, his rough thumb tracing my trembling bottom lip. "Let me protect you. Stand beside me at noon and help me end this nightmare once and for all."

His words made my soul ache with desperate hope. I had dreamed of being his for so long. But stepping into his world meant stepping directly into a ruthless war.

I opened my mouth to give him my answer.

Before a single word could leave my lips, a loud, violent vibration shattered the quiet of the room.

On the glass coffee table beside the sofa, Cristiano’s phone lit up with a blinding glare.

It buzzed aggressively against the glass, the harsh ringtone echoing off the living room walls.

Flashing across the bright screen in bold, angry letters was one word:

MOTHER.