Page 37 of Surprise Baby for the Mafia Boss

***

My phone rings as I’m about to get in the shower and I curse under my breath.

It’s been days of non-stop calls, trying to smooth out the details of this deal, as well as handling more shit with my runners. One guy was jumped and attacked and had all of his product stolen. Another had a car try to run him off the road. These incidents were all happening a little too often, and too close together to be a coincidence.

That mess, plus Emelia’s drama, and the thought of becoming a father in such terrible circumstances has me beyond annoyed and angry.

“Hello?” I ask, snapping a bit. All I want to do is shower and get into bed.

“Luca!” It’s Carlos’ loud voice coming through the phone. Shit. I said I would call him back today and I completely forgot.

“Carlos!” I reply, trying my best to match his energy but failing miserably.

“Luca, I’ll forget you ghosting me–as the kids nowadays say–and get to the point. Will we see you this weekend? My wife is getting your room ready.”

“Why the hell should I go to Mexico? It doesn't make sense. We need to change this arrangement. You come here for the pre-shipment meeting, and I'll fly over for the post-payment. It streamlines the process.” My annoyance is bubbling over.

“Luca, we've always done business this way. You are changing things now?” Now Carlos sounds annoyed too, and I know I need to smooth this over fast.

“Times change, mi amigo. Efficiency is key. And I thought maybe you all would prefer a holiday in the States. What do you say?” I word it as if it’s better for them to come to me, but really I just don’t have the time to be out of the country now.

The cheerfulness in Carlos’ voice is gone when he replies, “Fine, we'll come for the pre-shipment meeting. But you better make sure you're on that plane when it's time for the post-payment.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Carlos. I look forward to hosting you and your family in my home.” I say, putting on a bit of a happier tone to end this conversation.

“And we look forward to being hosted by you and your family, and of course seeing your lovely lady, Emelia. Tell her I will bring my wife and they can chit-chat all they desire.”

We end the call and I run my hands through my still-dry hair. The one thing I forgot was that I would need to have Emelia here to continue the pretense of her being my girlfriend. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I can’t handle another crisis right now, so I strip and get into the shower, using the time in the steam and hot water to think through everything plaguing my brain right now.

If I can just get through this meeting, and then have the shipment delivered safely, a lot of the stresses will be gone. I'll still need to deal with whatever is going on out there with my guys getting hurt, and I’ll need to face Emelia and talk about the baby, but this deal is the most important thing for now.

Getting out of the shower, I call Emelia. She picks up on the first ring.

“Emelia, I need to speak to you about something business-related,” I say as soon as she answers. “Would you be willing to meet with me tomorrow?”

“Uh, sure.” She sounds uncertain, and I get it.

I try not to let any of my anger leak into my tone of voice when I speak to her. I need her to attend this meeting and be willing to play along for the sake of this deal.

If that means being nicer to her for a day or two, I’m going to have to make the effort and bite my tongue.

I plan to meet her at my city apartment the next day, and we end the call without saying much else to each other.

Finally, I crawl into my bed and fall asleep.

***

Emelia shows up dressed in a maxi skirt and a tank top. For her, this is casual and understated, but she still looks flawlessly.

I let her in and offer her coffee. She takes a cup and sits down on a kitchen stool. I stay standing, running through exactly how I’m going to put this to her before I say anything out loud.

She sits patiently, waiting for me to speak.

“Carlos and his wife, and probably a couple of his men and their wives, are coming to the Baldini mansion over the weekend,” I start, tapping on the kitchen counter in tune with the song I have playing softly in the background.

“I was supposed to go there, but I can’t, it’s too much right now. So I’m hosting them here.”

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