Page 53 of Surprise Baby for the Mafia Boss

My chest grows tighter the further on in the letter I go. I know I fucked up royally last night, I hadn’t thought enough about how she was feeling. Or how she had been feeling ever since we lost Nonna.

Then I had gotten her involved in all of this crap with my deal, and she hadn’t even accepted the payment for it, so she had put on an act and helped me land the deal—and gotten nothing in return.

Nothing but me, but had I really been the reward she deserved?

Right at the bottom of the letter she wrote:

I won’t force you to speak to me, but if you ever find yourself wanting to talk things through, please call me.

“Fuck, Luca, what is wrong with you?” I shout into the empty apartment, slamming my fists onto the marble kitchen counter.

I had been so blinded by what Grazia was telling me, that I refused to take everything Emelia and I had already dealt with at face value.

Clearly Emelia had the family’s best interests at heart from the get-go, and she had nothing to gain by becoming Nonna’s own personal companion.

I wasn’t even angry with her for cozying up to me after we lost Nonna, because truth be told, I needed someone who I could fall apart in front of and not feel like they were losing all respect they had for me. Emelia had been there when I needed her the most.

I think back to our first nights, in the lookout and again in Mexico. Neither of those times had been orchestrated by Emelia. I had seen her and needed comfort. I had wanted her body, too.

And we’re a fucking good match, not just sexually or physically, but mentally, too. She matches my intelligence and determination, plus I already know that she's a valuable partner and can hold her own in a room full of ruthless cartel men.

So sure, maybe she took advantage of my vulnerability, but I didn’t exactly run from her screaming. I took full advantage of her feelings for me, too, and used them to help me get exactly what I wanted from her. Not just for sex, but for help with the Mexican deal, too.

In my tangled thoughts, the weight of my recent actions is beginning to feel crushing. Last night was a complete mess, and as I replay it in my head, I can't help but cringe at how I treated her. I mean, she's literally carrying our first child, and there I was acting like an asshole.

The realization of my own behavior hits me square in the chest, and I can't escape the feeling that I fucked up big time. I bury my face in my hands.

I think about Nonna and how this would look to her. I can practically hear her disapproving sigh, and it hurts. If she were here, she'd be shaking her head at me, disappointed.

That's a big part of the problem. Without Nonna around, everything feels a bit off-kilter.

Enzo's micromanaging everything I do, Emelia's pregnant, and Grazia? Well, she's got this talent for thinking the universe revolves around her. All of the pieces of this puzzle are driving me a bit mad.

It's like I'm walking on a tightrope, and any second, I might lose my balance.

In the middle of all this chaos, I can't shake the feeling that I'm losing control. The pressure from all sides, combined with my own internal mess, is pushing me to the edge.

But for the sake of the woman I love and the little one on the way, and maybe even for the memory of Nonna, I've got to find a way to steady myself and be the partner and soon-to-be parent they deserve.

I can’t lose control, because that is exactly what Enzo is expecting me to do and I’ll be damned if I give my brother the satisfaction. I take a deep breath. The Mexican shipment is here, Carlos is paid, and my men have a pretty good routine now for distribution.

Work-wise, things are going smoothly. It’s just my personal life that I need to sort out now—something that has never been one of my strengths.

I suddenly don’t want to be alone anymore and pull my phone out of pocket. There’s only one face I can handle seeing right now, and I’m not even sure she’ll be willing to see me.

I can only hope.

There’s something about spending time with Emelia that seems to melt my stress and worries away, and give me the strength to get back up again.

Typing a text, I put in Emelia’s name and press send before I can change my mind.

Once it’s sent, I reread what I typed to her, in case it sounded wrong.

I read your letter. Can you come over? I think we should talk. Please.

It’s short and to the point, hopefully it conveys that I want a truce. Peace. To come to a conclusion that works for both of us.

The silence of my phone makes me nervous. It’s been three seconds, but I tap the back of my phone nervously, waiting for her reply.

---