Page 82 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“I don’t plan on staying.”

“Andre.” He clasps his hands together. “I’m afraid I can’t share patient information with you. It’s against the rules.”

“I think you’ll find that you can, given what I can share if you refuse my demand.” I step toward him. “If you need reminding of the illegal procedures that take place here after hours…”

“Andre—”

“The money’s under the table, correct? To fuel your gambling addiction? I’m sure your wife would be very interested to learn where her kids' college funds have disappeared too…”

“You wouldn’t,” he breathes, his face paling.

“Oh, I would.” I let a feral smile tug at my lips. “So, I suggest you start talking.”

“She came in for an ultrasound. Baby is healthy, strong heartbeat?—”

“How far along?”

“Eight weeks.”

Fuck.

The breath seems to leave my lungs as my fear is confirmed.

“That’s all I needed.” I turn my back on Dr. Waite. “And don’t even think about mentioning this little conversation to Lila. Trust me, I’ll know.” I storm out of the office.

Once I’m outside, even the fresh air does little to satisfy the ache in my lungs.

Lila is pregnant with my child. And she kept it from me.

I can’t face her at the office. I’ll say something I’m bound to regret, and she’s clearly in a fragile place right now.

Not that I’m much better. Fuck.

How long has she known? And I haven’t been gentle with her in our after-hour “sessions”.

Does that even matter? What am I supposed to do?

I never wanted children because they are targets for my enemies, but I was never in this position before.

That is my baby Lila is carrying. Mine.

I was already wrapped around her sexy finger, obsessed with her, but knowing she is pregnant with my child?

Fuck me, I’ll be feral if someone even looks at her funny.

But more than that, I’m pissed that she kept this from me.

Why?

I’m going around in circles in my head, no answers just more and more questions.

So, no matter how badly I want to punish her for lying to me, how badly I need these answers, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Marco.

He answers after the first ring.

“How do you fancy a little old-fashioned shootout?”

I send an out-of-office email to Lila as I make the walk to my penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side. I was hoping the walk would help clear my head, but it only gives me more time to dwell on the fact that Lila is carrying my child.

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