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I wanted Dominic. And I wanted to live my life as I saw fit without worry of the sins of my parents, my grandfather, or anyone else coming to haunt me in the middle of the night.
But that wasn’t my reality. As I lay there on the doctor’s table, I silently cried for the life I would never have.
What was worse? I was about to bring a child into this same life. How would that be fair?
I shuddered at the thought of more of these pressures put on my unborn child. And with all the options Dr. Walker gave, it didn’t seem like I really had any at all.
But maybe I should consider abortion. At least then, my child would never have to suffer.
* * *
Two hours later
“Is it really necessary to take my cell phone and purse?”
My grandfather Riccardo Niccolò approached me. We were inside his estate in Tribeca, and it was like going through a fortress to get inside.
“Speak like you have some sense, granddaughter,” he said in Italian.
“Why do you act like you don’t know how to speak English?”
“I do not act like anything. I do not speak English. The language is not a part of our heritage. Why are you okay with speaking it fluently?”
“I wouldn’t be able to live in this country if I spoke Italian only.”
“That’s because the people here are not smart.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s because their native language is English.”
“No one’s native language is English. It was dialect forced onto people.”
“Must we have this conversation every time I ask about you speaking the country’s language?”
“Must you ask me?”
I inhaled deeply, and he spoke to Davide, his consigliere.
“Give her back her things.”
Davide nodded and left the room. When he returned, he handed me my Kate Spade purse and cell phone, and I quickly snatched it from his hands.
“You know I don’t let in devices other than my pre-approved ones. And you have been reckless, sharing beds with Dominic Lucas, of all people!”
My eyes widened, and I involuntarily clutched my purse and tightened my fist around my cell phone.
“What does Dominic Lucas have to do with anything, and who told you I was sharing beds with him?”
“Don’t take me for a fool, granddaughter. Dominic doesn’t hang around women for fun!”
“You should mind your business. I’m a grown woman!”
Laughter flew into the air, and he turned to eye Davide, who shook his head.
Davide reminded me of Frank Vincent, the actor who played Phil Leotardo from The Sopranos without the eyeglasses. His silver hair was combed back on his head, he had defined black eyebrows and a complete set of veneers in his mouth.
Grandfather Niccolò’s smile dropped, replaced by a frown. He sniffed. “You still smell fresh out of the womb to me.”
I frowned and bit my tongue. I could’ve thrown back plenty of insults: like how he continued to dye his hair black when it had been gray since he was forty years old. I could’ve mocked him for wishing he was still fresh out of the womb, wanting to remain young and doing everything in his power, including adding Botox to his sagging cheekbones, but I held back—more for fear than anything else. Grandfather Niccolò had a short temper, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me—family or not.
