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Sliding the drawer open, I reach into the back. My heart thunders in my chest as my fingers snag on the blue and purple box holding the test. Forcing myself to pull it out, I glance over the instructions. My hands shake as I pop open the box and look at the test. Actually seeing the little white stick makes me realize exactly what I’m about to do, what I’m about to find out.
I might be pregnant.
I might be pregnant in the fucking mafia.
There was a time, once, when I would’ve thought twice about having a child in the mafia. Even though I loved my upbringing and childhood, it’s hard to look back on it with the same rose-colored glasses now.
But that’s mostly because of my mother. And she’s no longer a threat to any of us.
The truth is, I want a baby. I want to feel the love between me and these four men manifested as a child who might have Ciro’s gorgeous eyes or Hale’s strong jaw or Zaid’s humor or Lucas’s easy confidence. I want to watch these men become fathers, want to see them dote on a tiny little thing who’ll have them all wrapped around his or her little finger.
I want all of that more than I’m afraid of it. The good outweighs the bad.
I look at myself in the mirror, seeing a woman who’s changed so much in one year.
One year. Has it really been that long?
The funny thing is, I look the same on the outside. My hazel eyes are still large, hair still the exact same shade of blonde. But those eyes hold a brightness to them, a life I never thought I’d see restored, a happiness I never thought I would feel again.
I’m no longer helpless. I’m a powerful woman, surrounded by powerful men who would do anything to protect me—just like I would to protect them. I’ve never been so content in my life, so at peace with everything around me, with who I am.
“I have everything you wanted, Camilla,” I say softly to my reflection, to the face that looks so much like hers. “And everything you lost.”
I didn’t have to murder, betray, and ruin lives to get where I am now, unlike my mother. I haven’t seen her since the day I shot her, and even though that murderous glare still haunts my dreams, she can’t touch my life anymore.
Which is why we were celebrating tonight.
Camilla is officially behind bars, convicted for life. Right up until the moment of her sentencing, she still fought and betrayed, backstabbed and bribed. She not only tried to get in contact with me, but she also tried several times to make plea bargains with the DA’s office, trying to get a lighter sentence in exchange for dirt on the men of her syndicate.
The only problem was, they were just as willing to turn on her. Her organization was founded on manipulation, lies, and intimidation, and it crumpled under pressure like a wet napkin. There was no loyalty, no drive between the syndicate members to protect each other—or their leader.
So they all fell.
Some faster, some slower, but in the end, they all fell down.
Tearing open the small box, I quickly follow the steps and wait a few minutes like the instructions tell me to.
When I see the results, tears well in my eyes for a moment, the emotions surging inside my chest too powerful to contain.
This is how it was meant to be, I tell myself. And it will all be okay.
I wash my hands and compose myself before leaving the bathroom, taking the test with me.
I don’t remember walking down to the kitchen, but I get there somehow. I don’t linger in the doorway either. I walk right in to where the men surround the island, chatting and joking about random shit while they eat leftovers from the other night.
Zaid notices me first. “There you are, I was wondering where…” His words trail off when he catches sight of the test in my hand. “What is that?”
The shift in his tone draws the other men’s attention, and suddenly, four pairs of eyes are gazing at me intently. For a moment, all four of the men are frozen in place, their eyes wide as they stare.
Hale recovers first.
“You know exactly what the fuck that is,” he says, dropping his fork with a clatter against his plate before he strides toward me. He plucks the test from my hands, not seeming to care that I just peed on it. He looks at it, then at me. Then back at the test.
“Grace.” There’s a tremor to his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Tell me you’re not joking right now.”
“I’m not.” The happy tears that welled up in the bathroom spill over my eyelids now, and I have to blink them away to see him properly. “It’s why I wasn’t drinking tonight. I haven’t had my period in a week, and I just thought… I mean, that test shows exactly what I thought.”
Ciro steps forward, and I turn my gaze toward him. I can see the shock in his gray eyes, and a hint of fear. I know out of all of the men, he’s the most scared of becoming a father. Which is funny, because I’ve never known anyone more kind and devoted to the people he loves than Ciro. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
