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I know I’ve done everything right, but I’m still staring down at two blue lines, then scowling at the back of the packet to see if I’m reading this little white stick correctly.
Yep. It’s not rocket science. I’m pregnant.
The only silver lining in this scenario is the baby is definitely Ciaran’s, not Vito’s.
I’d managed to smuggle my contraceptive pill, concealed in the lining of my luggage, when I was first delivered into the Viper’s den. I’d kept them hidden and taken them without fail, thankful I had a full seven months’ supply.
But when I was snatched from the church, I no longer had that advantage.
I began to suspect I might be pregnant when my period was late, although, with everything else that’s happened, I also clung to the idea it might have been stress, or trauma, or the effects of coming off my birth control.
Either way, there was no way I was mentioning it to anyone at the compound. Not even the nurse who treated me and changed my dressings each day. Not even to satisfy my gnawing curiosity.
This is my secret and mine alone.
Nobody is going to tell me how and what I should do. Nobody will get the chance.
Sure, there’s the voice of guilt, or maybe reason, buzzing inside my head, telling me Ciaran has a right to know, but I push it away. I can decide what to do about my baby daddy later. The only consequence this has right now is my choice of accommodation, since there’s suddenly not only myself to consider.
But I’m determined… The only person who gets any say in the life of my child is me.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
CIARAN
“Janey Mack, will you be still, Ciaran? You’re driving me nuts fidgeting like you are.”
Róisín’s eyebrows pull together in annoyance, and I fold my arms as I come to a standstill by the window, where I look out for all of five seconds before I can’t stay immobile any longer and start to pace again.
“What in the name of God has gotten into you?” my sister demands, coming to stand right in front of me with her hands on her hips and stopping me in my tracks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
I don’t want to talk about it. There’s not anything that can be done anyway. All I can do is bide my time and hope this apathy that’s overcome me eventually runs its course and I can get it out of my system.
“It’s Maricela, isn’t it?” Róisín’s tone oozes compassion, and I fucking hate that even more. It makes me feel pathetic, so I ignore her.
“You can admit it, you know.” Damn girl is like a dog with a feckin’ bone; she never lets things go. But I give her a little more rope than usual. Outwardly, she doesn’t appear to be suffering too many repercussions from her ordeal. Not that she's said very much, except to assure us she wasn’t mistreated. But I don’t quite trust that, so I hesitate to upset her unduly.
“What’s to admit?” I ask instead, playing dumb.
Róisín raises her eyebrows and spears me with a disbelieving look. “Seriously? That’s the way you want to play things?”
She shakes her head, a pitying look on her face. “You think I don’t know you well enough that I can’t see when you have feelings for a person?”
I turn away, not wanting to see her expression, and shrug, jamming my hands into my pants pockets. “So what if I do?” I challenge. “You think she’ll want anything to do with me after everything I’ve put her through?”
“What are ye heckin’ talking about?” Róisín demands, her Irish becoming thick with her incredulity. “You saved her!”
“Saved her?!” Now it’s my turn to be disbelieving. “Is that what you think? Honestly, Róisín, get your head out of the clouds. Not everything is hearts and roses.”
I’m being harsh, I know, but I can’t help myself. When it comes to Maricela, guilt infuses every cell in my body, and I can’t shake it no matter how hard I try. “I abducted the girl and held her captive. Then, when she was in a position where she couldn’t leave and had almost no outside contact, I fucked her.”
Róisín’s eyes go wide. Maybe I’m being a tad blunt here, but she needs to understand.
“And after all that, I threw her back into the Viper’s nest like yesterday’s garbage. You saw, Róisín. I know you saw how that bastard treated her as soon as he got his hands on her.”
Róisín’s eyes well, and her bottom lip trembles, and I feel like an arse. But she sees everything through rose-colored spectacles, so it needs to be said.
