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"No, I didn't harm the little boy." The desire that I was feeling for her only moments ago disappears and in its place is anger. Fury I didn't have before. A fury of a father who's never met his son. "But now I think you have some fucking explaining to do."
Twelve
Stella
This can't be happening to me.
Not now. Not after I spend so long trying to get away from that part of my life. I never thought I'd have to see this man's face again. At least not in the real world. I've seen his face countless times in my dreams. My nightmares, my fantasies it doesn't matter he's always the star of the show. My body just a tool for him to use as he sees fit. That's exactly what he's done tonight.
It's been so long since I've been able to get myself off. In fact it's been since the last time he's gotten me off. Never in all of my wildest dreams did I think he'd be getting me off with the barrel of a gun. Or that it'd be so easy for me to get off.
On top of all that I never thought I'd run into the man who knocked me up.
I didn't even know I was pregnant until I'd been on the run for six months. When I started putting on weight I thought it was because I no longer was snorting the coke. My periods have always been out of whack and all the drugs just made it worse. I didn't think anything of it but when I started putting in my hours at work and I finally fainted from fatigue I was forced to go up to the free clinic. It was there that I figured out that I was pregnant. By the time I got the news that I was going to have a baby I was already headed into my third trimester. It was a blessing in disguise mostly because knowing that I had this baby to care for gave me more of a reason to try and better myself. I stayed away from the drugs and the drinking easier. I worked and saved instead of just spending it on frivolous things. Every reason I'd ever thought about giving up, my son gave me the reason to keep pushing forward.
"Get up." The man says, standing in front of me pushing the gun back into the waist of his pants.
"Why?" I ask lifting my chin in a bit of defiance.
"I want to see your face when I hold your child in my arms." He looks over me one final time before he stalks off out of my room leaving me right there on the bed.
"Wait! No!" I scramble out of the bed and race to catch up to him. His hands are already around Chance's little body before I have a chance to get all the way in the room.
"Please... please don't hurt him." I whimper.
"I won't if you're honest with me." He picks Chance up into his arms, cradling his head and peering down in the child's face.
"Honest about what?" I ask though I'm sure I already know the answer.
"Is this my son?" His voice is soft almost reverent.
A frog lodges in my throat and I squeeze my arms around my midsection. There's no use in lying. He was the only man I was with in years both before and after I had Chance. "Yes, he's yours."
"My god...oh fuck." His knees buckled slightly and Chance falls out of his serene state. My wailing son forced me into action. Quickly, I reached over and took Chance out of his arms. The man backpedaled until his back was against the wall and then he slid down to his ass.
"I don't even know your name," I whisper. Looking at the man sitting in shock in my son's nursery.
"My name? What did you name him?" His eyebrows furrow as he looked up and stared at the little boy in my arms.
"Chance Spiro. I gave him my maiden name."
"That's not his name. His name is Chance Bianucci. We'll get that fixed as soon as possible."
With a squint, I look down at the man, who the hell did he think he was? "You have no right to tell me anything about my son"
He jumped up faster than I'd ever thought possible and got right in my face. "Your son? Did you not just say it was my seed that helped create him?"
"I did."
"Then I do have a right. If he's mine then I will claim him as just that. Mine. A Bianucci." He changes his expression from one of intensity to one of care as he looks down at my son. I've always wanted Chance to have a father figure in his life but I just didn't think it'd be the same assassin who tried to kill me the day he was conceived.
"That's your name then, Bianucci?"
"Yes, Vittore Bianucci. My family calls me Vitto." He tells me and reaches for the calmed-down child once again.
"Are you planning on trying to take him away from me?" It's going to be a fight to the death if he thinks that he's going to come in here and take Chance away from me.
"No, I'm not here to take him from you." he looks back at me and in his eyes, I can see the indecision. The fear and the anxiety. Seconds ago this man was ready to kill me, I'm certain of it but now that he's seen this small child's face, I don't see a killer but a father. One who is willing to do anything to make sure his child is safe. It may not be exactly what I wanted but it's exactly what we needed.
