Forty Three.

"By what?!" I yell, being caught off guard.

'Gods! How is anyone meant to take him seriously when he is standing full-on butt naked in front of us?' My inner Goddess giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze looking to the ground for a split second before he peers back up at me.

A flicker of insecurity flashes across his face and then vanishes when I blink, replaced by a look of cockiness.

"Bottom line is, Sandro is my legacy. He's my heir to my corporate and the Burak bloodline." He states firmly as he crosses the room and wraps the towel around his waist.

"I'm sorry." I scoff. "Is he a Peker or a Burak? Because you've confused me by saying Peker one minute and Burak the next." I look at him perplexed.

"He is both. The Peker blood flows through his veins strongly and we can't deny that because that is his Identity. But, to keep him safe and undetected from the dark world of the mobster life." He looks at me sternly. "He will be taking the Burak name. Just like Sedar has opted to keep his Ozturk Identity for his children."

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling the sheet with me and when I stand up, I wrap it around my body.

I turn to face him, "Why would I even consider the possibility of marrying a man who is tied to the mafia?" I say with sarcasm lacing my words. "Didn't you just accuse me of putting my son-"

"Our son!" He growls, cutting me off.

I breathe loudly, gradually becoming irritated with him. "OUR... Son, in danger? What did you say again?" I chuckle nervously as I glare at him. "Oh, yeah. I'm a sucker for enjoying a lavish life making no difference where that money comes from."

He doesn't say a word. Rather than that, he folds his arms and leans against the wall, his face painted with a smouldering look that makes him appear to belong on the front cover of a magazine.

"I don't want to marry you Aydem. I want out of the mafia life and I want a chance at love." I say whole-heartedly. "I deserve a real man who will love me unconditionally." I sigh as I wipe the corners of my eyes.

One day in the foreseeable future I want to be able to experience what real love feels like. I'm sick of feeling owned.

"Love is for the weak." He simply replies.

"That may be true. But, I at least deserve to find out for myself. Ace was my first boyfriend and after everything I've been through with the Esposito family, I refuse to shut my heart off."

His left eye twitches when I say the word 'love' like it is a taboo subject. "Suit yourself." He shrugs his shoulders like me rejecting him is no biggie. "We will work out your visiting rights with the lawyer." He says coldly.

"Visiting rights?" My body shakes with anger. "How dare you threaten me with such an obscene remark. I am his mother and I'm sure the judge will make the right decision having Sandros best interests at heart." I spit out.

He devours the distance between us in a heartbeat and he pins me against the wall. I let out a shaky breath and swallow loudly.

"I'm sure they'll love to hear how you kept him from me, naming an Italian bastard as his father on his birth certificate and BOK!" [Shit!] He slams his open hand against the wall. "That you were planning on taking my design for my shoe to try and financially destroy me." He growls.

"That's not fair," I whisper. "You know I only found out the truth myself the other day and I came clean." I feel a single tear slide down my cheek.

He wraps his fingers around my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. "That's because you require my help to get him back." He says through gritted teeth.

"What about you? You're a womaniser with no real hopes of settling down to give Sandro a home with love." I slap his hand away from my face.

His brows furrow, "I just told you I wanted to marry you." He chuckles, rubbing his jaw. "And you said no." He pushes off the wall and walks to the kitchen.

I follow him, standing on the threshold as I watch him make a call with his back facing me.

"Send up a fresh suit and discreetly put out an advert on the dark web for an arranged marriage." He mutters over the phone. "The sooner the better and make sure you place an advert out for a nanny too." He hangs up and places his phone on the kitchen countertop.

This jerk can't be serious!

He's really going to hire a wife just so he can have full custody of Sandro. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I'm pissed that he's willing to go down that road and a pang of jealousy mysteriously squirms itself into my heart.

I hear him mumbling in his mother tongue and as he turns, he runs his hand through his damp hair with frustration.

Our eyes collide, "I still expect you to be at the office in the morning. I'll need to keep a close eye on you so I know that you won't go back to the Italian scum." He declares in an icy tone.

'Go back to them?' My inner Goddess hisses. 'Has he forgotten what Trent tried to do us?'

It seems like his ego's been nipped and he's pissed. I bet he rarely hears the word 'NO' from women. I internally chuckle.

I drop the sheet, standing bare naked in front of him and I watch as his left eye twitches as his emerald green eyes with flecks of amber devour my body.

The front of his towel slowly starts to tent as his erection gives me a standing ovation. I smirk.

If he thinks he can marry some random bitch off the web and play happy family with my son. He better think again because It won't be happening.

I comb my fingers through my hair, trying to look desirable. "Close the door on your way out!" I wink, turning on my heel as I slam my bedroom door shut and I walk into my ensuite.

I have a quick shower, scrubbing his touch from my body as I severely regret our coupling. I've always secretly held a spot in my heart for the man I slept with two years ago.

I guess over time I fabricated how things went down between us to give me an escape from my reality.

Fantasy has always been prefered over the truth.

I just never imagined he would be such a douchbag on so many levels that he would still be able to ignite the fire within my soul that yearns frantically to find her mate.

And I am beginning to suspect she is delusory in her belief that Aydem could be that man if I agree to his proposal.

'Perhaps he will one day fall to his knees and declare his love for us in this screwed up story of ours.' She growls.