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My chest hurts thinking about our last conversation over the phone even as I finally answer the one still ringing in my hand. The number pops up as restricted, as most do in my family.
"Make it fast," I say.
"It's Paul."
I perk up. Paul is the hacker I contacted a few days ago when it became apparent that even with all my considerable tracing and tracking skills, Giulia would be next to impossible to find. That gorgeous Russo has always impressed me, but she really fucking knows how to cover her tracks when it comes to disappearing. This hacker is damn expensive, but as a secret billionaire with nothing to spend money on but lakehouses to get back at businessmen who slight me, I hardly care.
"What do you have?" I ask, ignoring Marcus's exasperated swear when I stand and leave the room for privacy.
"Tricky woman to track down, I'll give her that," he sniffs. "Took jumping through many hoops and hacking into an obstetrician's office, but it looks like she's in Positano, Italy. Nice location, I might add. She's in a ritzy hotel."
I halt in my tracks, stilling several yards from my car, as his words sink in. "Back up. An obstetrician? As in…"
"You know, like a gynecologist. Pregnancy, babies, all that. She visited one in Italy a few days ago, and their records say she's scheduled again in three weeks. Safe to say she's planning on laying low in Positano for a bit. This pregnant chick's digital footprint ispristine, by the way. If anyone even wanted to…."
I've already tuned him out. My heart slams painfully against my ribs as I stare at nothing.
Pregnant.
Holy shit.
"You there, Rob?" Paul's voice jolts me.
I realize it's been a minute since he said anything, but I still can't manage to do much other than try to process. This…would explain her running. Her shutting me out. My breath shudders as I run a hand through my hair. Fuck, I didn't expect this. How did this even happen? It’s…it’s…
"Send me the details and invoice me," I manage. Then I hang up to dial a private charter to Italy.
The flight is brutal, not because of the private jet or the polite attendant and pilot smiling at me and calling me Mr. Leone, constantly asking if I need anything. That was all expected.
It's because I'm a fucking mess. I can't stop pacing and running my hands through my hair, and God, I can't stop thinking about every single moment I've spent with Giulia. Especially the last few.
A couple of things should convince me the baby isn't mine. For one thing, we used protection—but that's never guaranteed. And then there's the fact that she's supposedly engaged to someone else, and what iftheywere intimate at some point?
I stop my pacing to swear and grit my teeth. No. Giulia didn't sleep with fucking Dante Parisi. She wouldn't have, and I already know deep down that the kid is mine. I just fuckingknowit.
But I also know Giulia isn't going to tell me. Which means I'll need to approach this carefully.
When I walk up the hotel stairs to the room Paul told me she's in, I have a game plan, but it doesn't slow my pounding heart. I stop in front of her door and inhale deeply before knocking firmly.
It takes a second for the lock to turn, and then—there she is. Emerald eyes go big with shock, curls tumbling from a messy bun, back stiffening as she tries to get her expression under control. She looks fucking beautiful, as always.
Immediately, all the tension from my flight is gone, and I can't help the relieved smile on my face. "I say Marco; you say Polo."
Giulia quickly tries to shut the door, but I stop it with my foot and tilt my head to see her better through the tiny crack. Her eyes flash, and I'm positive she's thinking of a dozen ways she could violently retaliate. Seeing that kind of fire in her gaze makes my throat constrict with desire.
"I told you to fucking leave mealone, Dickhead. Stalking doesn't suit you."
"Just like running and hiding doesn't suit you, cutie," I tease gently. "We need to talk."
She's seething, and it's damn adorable. "No, we actually don’t. I suggest you get back on a plane, go home, and fuck off."
I push inside a little more, craning my head to see the inside better, and grin at her. I've never seen her in relaxed clothing before, but she's in sweatpants that cling to her hips and ass in the most delicious ways.
That hacker Paul was right. This is a ritzy place, and her room is more of a suite with a large balcony overlooking the turquoise horizon line of the ocean. I hardly look at it, though, because I'm too mesmerized by how flustered she seems. Giulia isn't flustered easily; it confirms what I already knew.
Now I just need to get her to admit to it. I fire off quickly.
"Tell me. If you're so set on marrying Parisi, why are you in Italy while he's off fucking other women?"
