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For a moment, the room fell into a deafening silence. The sharp intake of breath from Silvio was the only sound that pierced the atmosphere. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at his daughter.
"Pregnant?" His voice was but a whisper, his expression unreadable. I watched as a thousand different emotions played across his face–shock, disbelief, fear…and then slowly, very slowly, it melted into something that looked like acceptance. "You're pregnant…"
"Yes, Daddy," Adriana replied gently, offering him a small smile. "With twins. A boy and a girl."
My hand instinctively found hers beneath the table again, lending her whatever strength I could muster. Through the heavy silence, I heard Silvio's soft sigh.
"Well," he said finally after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "This does change things. When you called me to help you and I sent you some men to help get Adriana back from Nick Rossi, you didn’t say anything about her pregnancy.”
“I thought she’d want to tell you herself,” I answered him.
His gaze moved from me to Adriana, softening as he looked at her. "And she is," he murmured, almost to himself. Then his attention snapped back to me, a stern look back in his eyes.
He nodded slowly, a wave of emotions washing over his face before settling into a stern expression. "And you expect me to trust you with her safety, with my grandchildren's safety, after everything you've put her through?" His voice was low, dangerous.
"I don't expect you to trust me," I said, holding his gaze. "I plan to earn it."
“If this is what she wants, I won’t stand in her way. But let me be clear about one thing." He leaned forward into the desk, locking eyes with me. "You hurt my daughter, you break her heart again, and there won't be a hole deep enough for you to hide in. I mean it, Tristan. I will kill your brothers in front of you first."
“Jesus, daddy,” Adriana said under her breath.
"Sorry, baby," Silvio said, his gaze never leaving mine. "But he needs to understand."
"I do," I said simply.
Silvio sighed, leaning back in his chair. His gaze softened as he looked at Adriana. "And you're certain about this?"
Adriana nodded. “Yes,” she said, though I thought I could sense some hesitation in her voice. “Absolutely.”
Silvio nodded. “Okay,” he said. “If you’re sure, you’re sure. We'll have a grand wedding. A celebration befitting of an Orsini and a Callahan union. That’ll scare those Rossi bastards off.”
He looked at me with a hint of a smile, the edges of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly.
"Take care of her, Tristan," he said. His voice was softer now, more father than mafia kingpin. "She's been through enough."
"I will," I promised, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.
For several minutes we sat in silence, letting the weight of our conversation hang heavy in the room. Adriana squeezed my hand beneath the table, her grip comforting and steady.
Suddenly, she spoke up. "I think I need to lay down," she said, her voice quiet and uncertain. "I haven't been feeling well…I think it's just morning sickness."
Worry etched itself on Silvio’s features. He stood quickly from his desk and rushed over to Adriana, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Go home and rest," he advised, casting a meaningful look in my direction. "Tristan can take you. You two can come for dinner tonight, and tell your mother and sister everything. Bring your brothers, Tristan.”
“Sounds good,” I said, nodding my head. I knew this dinner was going to be more than just a family gathering. It would be an official announcement of our union, a signal to the world that the Orsinis and Callahans were now one.
Adriana and I stood up from our seats. She looked pale, her usual vibrant glow dulled slightly. My heart clenched at the sight. I helped her slide her coat on over her shoulders, ensuring that she was completely covered before we headed out into the chilled winter afternoon.
In the car, Adriana rested her head against the window, her eyes closed. Her expression was strained, and my concern for her grew with each passing moment. But I kept quiet, not wanting to exacerbate whatever discomfort she was feeling.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," I said finally as we neared our home. Her apartment building loomed in the distance.
“I’ve seen you beat a man to death. I can watch you verbally spar with my dad.”
I sighed. “He’s alive,” I said. “I had one of my men check.”
She closed her eyes, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “See?” she said. “You’re nothing like your father.”
