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My fist flies before I realize it, meeting him square in the jaw. He stumbles back. I go to throw another punch but Tony intercepts me, standing between us.
“Rome,” he says pleadingly.
I close my eyes and run my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself. When I find some semblance of calm, I look at Michael.
“You’re lucky you’re my brother, Mikey,” I state.
He nods once. “It won’t happen again, Don.”
I take a seat on my chair. My brain whirs as I consider the next course of action.
“They still have the weapons and the drugs. We can get it back,” Tony says.
I shake my head. “No. They need to pay for what they did. I’m not letting them get away with this.”
My fists clench as I make a decision.
“Call Christian D’Angelo,” I say to Michael. “Today feels like a good day to wipe out a mafia organization.”
CHAPTER13
Elena
My period is late.
Five days late, to be exact. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve had a late period. It doesn’t happen often.
But it has happened before, the hopeful voice in my head says.
Yes, but not after unprotected sex with a man that I’m pretty sure hates my guts.
I tell myself there’s no need to panic. But the truth is, there absolutely is. I left New York a month ago. I slept with Roman a month ago. If I’m pregnant…
I can’t even complete the thought. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t had time to sleep with anyone else. I manage to stave off the dread I’m feeling as I get dressed for the day. I grab my car keys, my phone, my purse, all the essentials I need and then I’m out the door of my apartment. At work, I’m perfectly balanced, taking care of my tasks with efficiency. I don’t think about the fact that I haven’t seen my period. I don’t even consider the possibility.
Until the work day ends and I find myself in front of the drug store in my neighborhood. I walk inside and pick up a pregnancy test from the aisle. Then I grab five more, just in case. The cashier offers me a sympathetic glance. I ignore it in favor of getting the hell out of there and fast.
When I arrive home, I’m much calmer. If I was pregnant, I’d feel it right? But I’m perfectly fine. No morning sickness or bloating or whatever the hell symptoms pregnant women display.
It’s only been one month,the annoying voice in my head whispers.
“Shut up,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair.
My heart starts to race. I walk into to the bathroom to take the test. After I’m done peeing, I sit on the toilet, waiting for the strip to read.
Please, God. I’m only twenty-five. I’m a complete work in progress. I can’t take care of a whole other human being.
I only ever remember to pray to God when I need something from him. Apart from that, I forget he even exists. Which is why I doubt he’ll be listening to me right now.
I’m proven correct when the test comes back positive. The plus sign on it can only mean one thing.
I just stare and stare and then I stare some more. I let out a maniacal laugh, reaching for another test. I take all five tests in under twenty minutes. My body provides as much pee as I need. By the time the last one comes back, my mind is done being deluded. I stand up and cross over to my bedroom before falling face down on my bed.
Fuck my life.
“Okay. I’m an adult. I’m twenty-five, I have a career. I can do this.” When I say it out loud, it doesn’t sound that bad. But I’m an unmarried Italian girl with a family that has ties to a mafia crime syndicate. And I’m pregnant with the child of the Don of said syndicate.
Before I left home, they were discussing my marriage. I only just managed to convince my dad to give me some more time. And now…
