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But something isn’t right. She can go to the cemetery, but with me or Romero, because I feel those sharks are circling and I fear blood will soon be in the water.
33
EMILIA
Ilie in the sheets, trying to pull myself together. Nico is already in the kitchen getting coffee and now that I am alone, my mind races as I picture those lines on the pregnancy test.
Those two lines had me hyperventilating in the bathroom for five minutes last night before I decided to take a second test just to be sure. I am not sure how long I was, but by the time I calmed down and put the tests back into the brown paper bag and into the bin, I thought Nico would be asleep. But, of course, he wasn’t.
Now my heart races because I don’t know what to do. I bury my head into the pillow. Pregnancy and kids were not something I have thought a lot about. Being so career-minded, my focus has always been on climbing the career ladder, not my biological clock. I’m only in my mid-twenties; I still have plenty of time for babies.
I look at the door, and my palms sweat. I should tell Nico, but I have no idea what he will say or how he will react. I’m sure meeting me and spending every day in bed together was something unexpected for him too. But he is in the goddamn mafia! What is wrong with me?!
My hands shake as I quietly slip from the bed and pad across the carpet to the bathroom. It is huge, just like the rest of his place. When he brought me here yesterday, it was very unexpected and I couldn’t believe how beautiful everything is. Downstairs is large, open, masculine, with dark lines and hard edges. Upstairs is the complete opposite, with light colors, soft linens, and lush carpet. It is a mix of two worlds, just like the man himself.
I splash water on my face and wrists and take some deep breaths.
“Are you okay, bambolina?” Nico asks from where he stands, leaning against the bathroom door. He looks concerned, and I stand shocked for a moment, not sure what to do or say.
“Yes!” I say too quickly, with a fake smile. “Just trying to wake up.” I grab a towel and pat my face dry to distract from my nerves. His eyes narrow, knowing that I am lying, but I plaster on another smile as I hang the towel, my eyes flicking to the coffee in his hands.
“Here,” Nico says roughly, handing the coffee to me before retreating, and I follow him back to the bedroom. The air between us is now a little thicker than it was just moments ago.
“Thank you. What’s on for today?” I ask, knowing even though the boxes are complete, my work is far from done.
“We need to start trying to access the laptop. Are you sure there were no clues in all those boxes?” he asks me again, searching my face.
“Maybe, I don’t know,” I say, taking another sip, letting my mind wander. I push aside the personal information about my mother, about France and all the loose connections, and try to concentrate on my father’s business and what I have uncovered.
“Yesterday, you said that you think you found something. What did you mean?” We both take a seat on the sofa in his room. This is my favorite spot in his whole house. This small living space faces a large window, which overlooks the gorgeous greenery of the courtyard below.
“It’s just I found so much personally, and it is hard for me to filter what might be helpful and what isn’t. I mean, my mother, I never knew her, could never picture her, yet now I’ve seen her photos. She was beautiful, Nico. She was really, really beautiful.” My eyes become watery, and I mentally curse my hormones because I never cry. Not in many years. He puts his hand around my neck and pulls me close. His fingers caress the back of my neck, massaging my muscles, and it feels so good.
“We will go through your pile of files from the boxes this morning. Maybe we can decipher a password and start trying them,” he suggests.
“Maybe. I have sorted everything, so I have a few important papers we need to go back through again anyway. Just in case I missed something,” I murmur, my face now resting against his chest, and I close my eyes, already tired again, even though I just woke up. My hand unconsciously comes to rest on my stomach. I feel nauseous, and my thoughts are a jumbled mess.
“I can always go back downstairs to your father and—” He stops himself.
“What?” I pull back from him suddenly and look at him, wide-eyed.
He stares at me for a moment, and rubs his jaw, leaning back and looking like the mobster he is.
“What do you mean, when you say ‘downstairs to my father?’” I ask, now very awake, blood rushing through my body faster than before.
He doesn’t answer me, but he continues to watch my reaction.
“Nico, is he here? Is my father here?” My voice raises, demanding he answer me.
He remains silent, which infuriates me more.
“Nico!” I jump up, my morning coffee forgotten.
“What is my father doing here?” My words are tumbling out now, not even giving him a chance to reply. I can’t stop myself.
“Has he been here this entire time? Has he been here while I am here?” I’m panicking.
Nico leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. I can see his jaw clenching.
