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He growls and spits again as he clambers to his feet, nose flaring at me. "If I were you, I'd run home to your daddy before the Russos catch wind of this. You have no business here."
"Like hell, I don’t. From now on, if you want to keep your balls attached to you, you'll stay the hell away from Giulia Russo."
Dante Parisi's eyes flash, and he sneers. "What a cocky bastard you are. Frank Russo's daughter is as good as mine, and I'll do whatever I want with that temperamental little bitch."
I lunge at the same time he does, and in the next moment, we're a tangle of fists and knees and grunts on the ground. I love a good fistfight, and it's a thrill every time my fists find purchase, even when one of my newly-scabbed knuckles splits. He gets a few good hits in, and there's blood on both of us, but I don’t care. I just care that this motherfucker doesn't deserve Giulia, and I'd rather kill him than give him a chance to hurt her with his jackassery.
But apparently, this particular affluent neighborhood gets its own lightning-fast response time. Before I can have fun doing anyrealdamage, five police officers swarm in through the door I left open and rip Dante Parisi and me apart. I don’t bother fighting them off, but I smirk when Parisi spits out a mouthful of blood and snarls at me, showing that I knocked out two teeth.
That'll teach him to call myBellissimaa bitch.
Chapter 22
Giulia
"Andyou'resureyouwant to move the meeting to two weeks from now?"
I'm on the phone with the next contact that Roberto and I were supposed to meet up with. We were set to see him within only a few days, but it seemed best to postpone it given that I have a gynecologist appointment that same day and the fact Roberto just got fuckingarrestedyesterday.
Not for long, of course. From everything I've gleaned from the Russos working on the streets, the maddening Giovanni got out scot-free because of some higher-up connections. Of course, mafiosos are notoriously slippery, but even I am a little impressed at how easily he got out, considering he broke into a house and apparently beat the snot out of Dante Parisi for "cheating" on me.
Admittedly, a small part of me thrills at losing his temper and confronting the dislikeable mafioso over me.
But mostly, I'm pissed. It's what I would have expected of Roberto when I first met him—getting into a bloody, mindless fistfight and totally disregarding how it would impact the mafia's new desired reputation. We're trying to change how the Five Families are viewed, and his being reckless will jeopardize that. ThisVitalenopportunity is a massive deal since it means mobsters like us can do actual good by distributing it—and I know that Vitalen will change things for the better.
How do I know? Simple. I've been taking it.
I was desperate to stop being so nauseous all the time. After carefully scouring and triple-checking all the studies the Illuminati provided for howVitalenbenefits pregnancies, I decided to take a supplemental amount every day. Just a bit mixed into water. So far, my morning sickness has been ten times more manageable, and my hormones aren't taking over at the drop of a hat.
Now that it's under control, I can devise a game plan for carefully disengaging from my assignment…and Roberto. Starting with moving all of our scheduled distributor meetings back.
"Two weeks," I confirm. "Reach out to the contact in Chicago with any questions."
"Understood."
After I hang up, I take a deep breath and look out the windshield of my car. I've periodically checked the hotel entrance where I know Roberto is staying. So far, it looks like no other Russos have arrived, though I'm sure they're looking for the Giovanni rabble-rouser after the stunt he pulled. Why he hasn't left yet is beyond me.
Unless…maybe he's hurt from the fight. That thought has me gripping my car door handle, chewing on my lip in distress. Perhaps I should briefly go in to check on him—
No. Seeing him in person is too dangerous. He'll look at me with those molten brown eyes and that darling smirk, and he'll unravel the control I'm working so hard to maintain. If I go in there, he'll keep trying to fish the truth out of me.
I protectively place my hand on my stomach, even though I won't show for weeks. Would Roberto be on board with an unexpected baby? It's hard to say. I've only known him briefly, but I could've known him all my life.
But it doesn't matter how well IfeelI know him. I don’t want to risk him rejecting the baby—rejectingme. If I never give him a chance, then it simply can't happen. Maybe it's my perfectionism, but I'll take a zero percent risk while raising a baby in secret any day of the week over risking a potential failure. And then there's the fact that he acted so recklessly yesterday—if he reacted like that from nothing but a bit of jealousy, how would my impulsive mafioso respond to a surprise pregnancy?
And regardless of how Roberto might react, this secret can't come outnow, of all times. Not right as the Five Families are banding together to better our future. If they found out, everything would be ruined.
Maybe someday, it will be different. Perhaps I'll tell him down the road when I already have my precious child, and I don’t have to worry about my family or his losing their shit over it and destroying the stalemate. Someday when I won't have to worry about his safety.
Until then, I can't risk it. So for the first time, I call Roberto.
"MyBellissima," he answers warmly. "Where are you?"
His smooth voice makes my resolve soften, but I quickly summon my most cold-hearted tone. "The bigger question is, where are you? I assume you are still in California since you're clearly a glutton for unnecessary risks."
"Please. You're trying so hard to pretend you don’t want me here, but we both know I'm not leaving until I know what's happening. So tell me what changed."
I blink when I see a curtain move in one of the hotel windows. I'm almost positive it's the room I know he's staying in, but there's no way he would recognize my car even if he could see it among the dozens I'm parked between.
