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His silence was deafening.
“I don’t know how much you know about my husband, but he’s not someone who you want to be on the wrong side of.” That was the understatement of the century. I wasn’t sure how Marco felt about me. If he would even want to be married to me now that it looked like the danger of Adrian’s death had passed. But I did know that the Blanchi family didn’t handle threats very well. I sighed at the thought. “You need to let me go. If you don’t…”
My father scowled. “Your husband is nothing more than a gangster.”
I snorted. “And you are a gambling addict and absentee father,” I reminded him. “I thought that I would remind you since we want to throw stones.”
He didn’t like that, and the scowl deepened.
“My point is that Marco is going to start looking for me soon, if he’s not already.” I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, or how long I had been out. Marco could already be looking for me. “If he finds me like this, he’s going to kill first and ask later.”
My words had very little effect on my father. The scowl on his face didn’t change. “Marco isn’t going to find you here.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, worried.
My father sighed, and for a moment, he looked as though he felt guilty. “I owe money to some very powerful men.”
“You already said that,” I reminded him. I was trying to keep my voice calm, but I was starting to feel a pit of panic open up in my stomach. “If you think you’ll get Marco to give you money…” I wasn’t sure what Marco would do. I hoped he wouldn’t give my father a penny. Something told me that if Marco did that, my father would look at him like an untapped well.
“The men I owe money to aren’t interested in Blanchi’s money…”
“What are they interested in?” My throat was beginning to tighten. My hand trailed down to my stomach, and though it was still flat, I knew that I was growing a life inside of my body. One I had to protect no matter what came next.
My father’s eyes trailed to my stomach. “You were coming out of the doctor’s office.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a statement either. I remained quiet, unsure of how much information I should give my father.
“Are you pregnant?”
“What do those men want from you?” I wasn’t going to confirm or deny that I was pregnant. My pregnancy would just add one more thing to make me valuable to my father.
His eyes moved from my stomach. “You,” he told me. “They want you.”
