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As my time for the birth draws closer, I ignore the niggles of fear that rise up from time to time, telling myself that if any external threat were to appear, Rio will take care of it. I’ve been privy to several meetings by now, never with all the heads of family together, but usually with at least one or two in attendance at the estate.
I know they are all searching for a man named Antonio. A man who has made life difficult for several of the Mafia families in recent months. Though apparently, since the heads-of-family meeting, the attacks on various businesses seem to have died off.
Maybe he’s been scared away, and everything will finally settle down for a while?
I’m not sure if my blinkered approach is normal for late pregnancy, when the external world fades and focus reduces to nesting and preparing for my child to arrive. Though in truth, it is hardly me doing the nesting. I may have been the one to choose the furniture and décor, but I have an army of people who actually carry out the work to set up the nursery and recreate the vision I have in my head for my baby’s space.
The nursery is neither blue, nor pink, but rather a neutral base with a range of colorful pieces to give the room life and joy. I still have no idea if I’m carrying a boy or a girl, but the gender doesn’t matter to me. As long as my baby is healthy, I will be happy.
Rio insists we are having a son. I hope he won’t be disappointed if the child is a girl. I need him to love this child as much asIalready do. As the Carlotti-Agosti heir, the child will likely wield enormous power one day, and he or she will need the strength and support of their father to protect them, until such time as they are old enough to protect themselves.
I am musing on this thought one balmy evening in the fall, sitting out on the balcony that juts out from our conjoined bedroom suites, and watching the last rays of sun stretch out across the landscape, when the first pain hits.
I bend forward, clutching at my lower belly. “Ah, holy…jeez.”
I gasp when another cramp squeezes me, only a minute or two after the first.It’s too early, my panicked brain screams, but then rational thought kicks back in and I remember it is only days early, not weeks, and this may actually be the real thing.
Rio and I have spoken at length about the labor and birth. He wants me to have the baby here, where he can better protect us, and plans to bring in a whole team of medical personnel the moment we need them.
Another pain squeezes all the way around my lower back and into my abdomen, and then a minute later, another, so powerful it feels like I’m being torn in two.
Okay, I tell myself.Don’t panic.The pain may not be starting off gentle like I thought it would. But having a baby is normal and natural. Thousands, millions… No,billionsof people do this all the time.
Fuck, it hurts.
It’s time.
I head back inside my bedroom and poke my head out into the hallway, where I know at least two of our security team will be stationed. Today it’s Mitch and another Leon, though I can’t call him that as it reminds me of the one who died, so he’s become Lee whenever I greet him.
They both jump to their feet when I start to speak and then groan again. Lee immediately barks something into his mic and goes racing off down the corridor. Mitch watches him leave as if he’s annoyed that he got the raw end of the deal.
Then he sighs and heads over to me, though he looks anything but comfortable when he says, “Ma’am. Is there anything I can…err…you know…”
I wave my hand and shake my head no to put him out of his misery.
These are tough guys and not used to dealing with “women’s business,” as I heard one of them say to the other only days ago.
He retreats with alacrity to his station, and I stagger back into the bedroom and collapse to my knees beside the bed. This pain isn’t fun. And I’m guessing it may only be the beginning of a long few hours.
The message must pass quickly along the chain as Rio comes rushing in only minutes later, dropping to his knees beside me.
“La mia cara moglie.” He strokes my back, stiffening when I groan, loudly. “You’re in pain.”
“You think?” My voice is gruff, and I speak through gritted teeth.
I know he doesn’t mean to be obtuse. He’s probably as nervous as I am, and though he’s the head of a Mafia cartel and probably ordered hits and been responsible for life and death decisions, I can’t imagine he’s been the support person for someone giving birth before this moment.
He pats my back some more, and if I weren’t riding the wave of yet another cramping pain, I’d laugh at the panic I can feel in the too-rapid touch.
“It’s okay, Rio,” I manage. “I got this.”
“Of course you do. You are a Mafia princess, and my wife. Strength is in your blood.” The pride in his voice is palpable, and I can’t help the smile lifting my lips.
Until the next wave of pain hits, and I smoosh my face into the bedcover.
“The doctor and her team are en route.” He’s back to panic mode, patting my back so firmly I squirm to get away from his touch. “They will be here within the next few minutes.”
“Ah-huh. Okay. Good.Fuck!” When the pain subsides, I look up at him. “Thank you. Now, darling husband, can you please stop whacking me on the back, and help me up onto the bed? Maybe arrange for some towels, too. Protect the bedcovers.”
