I only rest for a couple of minutes. My head is swirling with thoughts after that doctor discovered I was pregnant. It was impossible to hide it after he listened to my belly and heard the baby’s heartbeat. The sound even gave me goose bumps. I never thought I’d hear the sounds of life coming from my own body.
But it’s real. I am pregnant. And even though I’ve been trying to avoid reality, I cannot stop thinking about it now that it’s out there in the open. Now that Marcello must surely know as well.
I bury my face in my hands and groan to myself. How am I supposed to sleep when he’s out there seething around like a fire-spitting dragon?
At least, that’s how I picture him in my head. I have no clue what he’s doing, and the fact is that I really want to know. Because I care what he thinks. How he feels.
About us.
About this baby of ours.
And the only way to find out is by asking him myself.
I throw the blanket off me and get up.
Fuck rest, fuck sleeping. I can’t close my eyes like this.
I get up and put my clothes on, then make my way downstairs. The guards eye me up and down, and I ask one of them where Marcello is. He points at the garden, so I hop outside to take in some much-needed fresh air. The doctor told me it was okay to take a walk outside as long as I didn’t overdo it. My body needs to be relaxed and have some time away from stress so it can heal itself and the baby remains safe.
Because the thought of losing this little one is already unbearable.
That’s how attached I’ve grown.
And I don’t even know if Marcello actually wants it.
He’s sitting in the corner of the yard, next to a firepit, where smoke rises into the sky. I swallow and approach him from behind.
“I can hear you,” he says.
I pause halfway there. “How did you know it was me?”
“I recognize your footsteps. They’re … delicate.” I can hear him smile, and it makes me blush. He’s intricately aware of every noise I make and remembers it. Like it’s something special.
The scent of burnt paper fills my nostrils as I inch closer and peer over his shoulder.
“What are you burning?”
He pokes the ashes with a stick. “A picture.”
I frown, looking at the image of a beautiful woman being scorched. There’s not much left of her face, but from what I can see, she was gorgeous, and the way he looks at her fills me with sadness.
“She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”
He sighs. “My fiancée died in the same ambush that put my mother in a coma.”
I place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on.” He covers my hand with his and looks at me over his shoulder with only love and adoration in his eyes. “I have you now.”
My heart skips a beat. Does he really feel that way about me?
But he had a fiancée. I don’t want to and couldn’t possibly replace her.
“Are you sure? I don’t—”
He suddenly places a hand on my belly, catching me off guard. He looks up into my eyes, deepening his gaze. “Is it mine?”
A blush creeps onto my cheeks. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“If anyone hurt you,” he says, his eyes twitching, a hint of darkness inside them. “I will tear out their entrails and choke them with it.”
My eyes widen, and the blush immediately dissipates. “No, no. No one did that. Well, they tried, but my mother’s guard saved me and took me to her home.”
His eyes only narrow farther, so I add, “I promise, no one touched me.” I snigger. “Well, except you of course.”
He leans over and presses both hands against my belly. “That’s good to hear.” He stands up to face me and gives me a smoldering look. “But you lied to me, Kitten. Why?”
I rub my lips together, wondering how I’m going to get out of this mess. “I …” I don’t have a reason, really. I just figured if I didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t exist. But maybe I also thought that if I told him, he’d tell me he didn’t want me anymore. That this baby was the last thing on earth he’d ever want.
“I was afraid,” I say. I don’t like to say out loud that I felt weak.
He grabs my chin and makes me look up at him. “Never be afraid of me.”
He inches closer and closer until I can feel his breath on my skin. His lips part, and he plants an agonizingly slow kiss onto my lips. One that makes the goose bumps scatter on my skin and my heart flutter in my chest.
When his mouth unlatches from mine, my lips are tingly and swollen and yearning for more. I’m surprised he’s so gentle and forthcoming when I just admitted to not telling him the truth about my pregnancy even when I knew what was going on.
“So you’re not mad at me?” I ask.
His brow rises playfully. “Mad? No. But you will be punished for not telling me later.” He ends his words with a growl, making my pussy clench with heat. “That’s my baby growing in there. Mine.”
I giggle when he drags me close to his body, his palm firmly planted against my back like he wants to reel me in and claim me as his right in front of anyone who would dare to come between us. And even if I hate to admit it, I like that. I like the idea of him being completely and utterly in love with me to the point that he’d kill for me. There’s just something viscerally attractive about a man willing to lay down his life as well as others for the sake of yours.
But before our lips collide, his eyes suddenly flick away as he looks over my shoulder. In an instant, they widen and narrow, and he clutches my body so tight the breath is squeezed out of me.
BANG!
I hear the sound before I feel the bullet graze right past my arm.
I don’t even know what’s going on, but Marcello swiftly lunges in front of me and shields me with his body. Another bullet flies past us, and I shriek as he throws us both into a bush. Only when I look up do I spot the men near the fence rapidly shooting at us from all angles.
“It’s the Irish,” Marcello growls. “They’ve come for you.”
Bullets ricochet on the ground, and I cover my ears with my hands so I don’t have to hear the sound of death. Marcello peeks over the bushes and grabs his gun from his holster, the sight making my heart do a double jump.
“No, Marcello, you can’t—”
My words are interrupted by a bullet scraping across the floor mere inches away from me.
“Stay down!” Marcello growls as he gets on his knees and starts shooting back.
Panic swirls through my veins as I try to make myself as tiny as possible. But I can’t help but throw a glance at the gunfight and watch Marcello kill one, two, three of the men with a clean shot as if it’s no trouble to him at all. And for a moment, I’m in awe at the raw power he exudes while killing his enemies, at the harshness on his face as he faces death like an old friend. Like he has no fear at all.
But then he turns his head to me, only briefly, and the once stone-cold icy gaze vanishes. Replaced by a volatile kind of rage that I can only describe as frightening.
I was wrong.
There is one thing Marcello fears.
Losing me.
Right then, a bullet hits him right in the shoulder, and I scream. “Marcello!”
He grimaces and grabs his shoulder but then shoots at the guy who shot him and hits him right between the eyes.
More men come pouring out of the mansion as the guards raise the alarm. But an equal number of Irish men flock at the gates, so many that they’ve managed to build a ladder high enough for them to climb over.
Now panic really begins to flood my body.
“Run to the mansion. I’ll cover for you,” Marcello barks at me.
I glance back and forth between him and the men storming at us with guns pointed right at us, and the sheer intensity of it all freezes me up.
Marcello takes a knee beside me and whips me up into his arms, pressing a hard kiss to my lips, consuming me whole. It’s not a lover’s kiss but a kiss of death. A kiss that says, “Maybe I will see you again … or maybe this is our final goodbye.”
That thought frightens me more than anything else.
When our lips unlock, it’s only been a second, but it feels like the world spun on its axis. Marcello hauls me up from the ground. “Find Ricardo. He’ll protect you. Go!”
I nod and don’t think twice before I make a run for it. I head straight for the mansion without looking back. Gunshots go off, but every time one of the men who made it over the fence tries to grab me, Marcello shoots them in the back. One by one, they all fall as I run like hell toward the guards in front of the house. I jump into their arms, and they clutch me firmly, fending off any of the attackers who followed me.
“Get in,” the guard barks at me. He must be Ricardo. I never learned their names, but I will remember this one. He pushes me aside and kicks open the door.
“Wait, Marcello isn’t here yet,” I say, gawking over his shoulder.
“Marcello gave us orders,” he quips, giving me a stern look.
I frown. “Marcello’s safety matters too.”
When he doesn’t say another word, I push past him.
Only to see the Irish swarm the ground.
Marcello is overwhelmed.
My pupils dilate, and I scream, “Marcello! Fight back!”
The guards shove me back into the house, but I keep pushing them away to get a glance at what’s going on. The Irish have surrounded him, and he’s resorted to throwing punches besides shooting his gun. But when he runs out of bullets, they strike him down.
“Marcello! NO!” I scream.
But as I run, Ricardo grabs my arm and hauls me back inside the mansion, sealing the door to lock me inside. I slam my fists onto the wood, screaming, “Let me out! Marcello needs help!”
“Our men are out there doing their best to save him.”
I redirect my attention to him and slam my hands flat onto his chest. “I didn’t ask you to lock me in here!”
“We have orders,” Ricardo barks back, clutching my wrist. “You are to be protected at all cost.”
“Even if it costs him his life?!” I scream in his face.
He tilts his head down and sneers, “It was his decision.”
I take a deep breath and turn around to march toward the window to have a look, but the guy grabs me and drags me along right down into the basement. “What are you doing? Let me go.”
He shoves me inside and closes the door behind us, shutting us in. “It’s safer here.”
I pause and look around at all the guns hanging on the walls. Even though I’ve been here before, it still is impressive and gulp-inducing. The silence between these walls is deafening, and every passing second feels like an hour while we wait for news from the outside. From the men fighting out there. From Marcello.
That last look of him getting hounded by a dozen men still haunts me, and I can’t shake the dread. What will happen to him? Will he make it out alive?
Marcello’s bruised, beaten, and bloodied body enters my mind, and I choke up.
I can’t think like that.
He’s strong, and he’s a goddamn mobster boss, for crying out loud. He will make it out alive.
He has to.
For us.
For our baby.
I clutch my belly and look down at my little baby growing inside, wishing now more than ever that we will have a lifetime to spend together. All three of us. As it should be.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and a guard steps inside, frantically looking around. I hold my breath. He stares at Ricardo, lips parted as though he doesn’t know what to say.
“Marcello …”
My knees feel weak. Heavy.
I clutch the nearest table before my legs cave in on me.
“He’s been taken.”
