Page 51 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“For kidnapping my wife. Now where the hell is she?” I command, pulling up his arm, finding the right place to snap it in half. Roberto’s eyes grow incredulously wide, the cruel underbelly of my personality, well and truly activated.

“I can’t tell you that.” Roberto coughs.

“I won’t kill you yet, but you’re going to beg me to by the time I’m done,” I tell him as the sound of a baby crying carries through the open area. Mark who is hovering, hears it too.

“That’s her. It’s muffled. Near that door over there,” I shout, standing and kicking Roberto in the face, buying me enough time to jog the ten paces to the door. The only reason I spare the mutt is because it’s Fiona’s uncle, and I don’t want to kill what’s left of her blood relatives.

When we get to the flimsy wooden door, the cries grow louder. It’s jammed shut.

“Stand back, I’m going to shoot it.” Shooting at the lock, I open up a hole through the wood; then Mark punches out a bigger hole, opening the door from the inside. We hurtle down the short flight of stairs to a basement area, where Fiona is holding a baby in her arms, and two women surround her, holding their hands up in the surrender position.

Waving my gun, I move them back. “Get away from her,” I bark as the baby stops crying, Fiona rocking her newborn in her arms.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. Your dada’s here now. I promise it’s going to be okay. Shhh, welcome to the world, my beautiful girl.”

I bend down to Fiona whose eyes are glistening with tears. “You’re here,” she rasps, leaning her weight into me as I touch my baby girl, ignoring the mess of towels and blood around Fiona. “I apologize for leaving the house the way I did. ” She sobs, cradling her baby as I hug her, holding her tight. “I’m—”

I shake my head.

“No, don’t, Fiona,” I say, so relieved that she’s safe and sound. I hug her tight, our baby’s bright green eyes gazing up at me. My heart melts, wishing it didn’t have to go this way. “You did a good job. I’m proud of you,” I tell her. “I can’t keep you cooped up. I want you to have your freedom, Fiona. I’m not a monster.”

She lays her head on my chest as Mark clears the women out of the room. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ve set up an account for you. And it has all the money from the antique chest in it. It’s all yours, I would never take it from you. There’s over a hundred million worth of assets, Fiona.”

Wide eyed, she frowns. “You did that?”

“Yes, the money is rightfully yours. And if you don’t want to be with me anymore, you’re set for life, and between us, so is our kid.” A wash of sadness comes over me as I give her the out.

She cups her hand to my face. “No. I’ll set up a trust fund for our babies. I’ve got all I need. It’s not over between us. It can’tbe, I’m too in love with you,” Fiona confesses, putting her heart on the line.

Kissing her mouth, I rest my head on hers. “Fiona, I love you too. More than I can express at times, but I want you to know I do.”

She sobs a little more as I help her up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“Yes please. I never thought I’d be having a basement baby.” Only Fiona can find a way to be humorous in a time like this.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Fiona

Six months have passed, and things between Ruslan and I have gone through a 180-degree turnaround. Now, I have the attentive man I wanted in the first place. No, granted, he’s not the mushy gushy guy, but his loving ways come out through his actions, and that’s enough for me.

I pull the milk bottles out of the sterilizer, looking at the milk formula on the counter and screwing up my nose. I don’t like to feed it to her, I prefer to give her the nutrients she needs through breast milk, but I do it sometimes so Ruslan can be more hands-on.

“I want to be involved too. If you give me the formula, I can give you a break so you can get some rest.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Okay, I’ll let you know when.”

It’s a shame Roberto had to go back to jail. I would have wanted my uncle to be involved with his family, but he let greed get the best of him, and it’s unlikely he’ll get out for another five years. Maybe he’ll be reformed by then. Although, it’s going to be an interesting story to tell Arina when she gets older. “Did you know I conceived you in the middle of a kidnapping? And did you know right after the kidnapping your uncle robbed several mom-and-pop stores for cash?” If he asked me nicely, I would have given him some of the money Dad gave me, but I guess it wasn’t supposed to go that way.

The Omerta files have changed Ruslan’s operation in a big way. There’s less opposition and many of the deals and strategic alliances he’s been attempting to make have fallen right into his lap. I get to wear those pretty dresses I brought to benefits, and I’ve met some of the most powerful figures in the city, but still, I feel like that same naïve country girl from Ohio.

My friends are the same and are welcome anytime. Ruslan’s more relaxed, and we’re planning all kinds of things for our future, including more children.

“I think I want five.” I scoff, recalling our conversation earlier in the week.

“Five? Let’s talkafterthe second one. Five is not a nice number.”We’d play argued about it, but ended up making passionate love afterwards with him convincing me three could work as well. Must have been the postcoital glow.

Feeling grateful for how things have turned out, I mix the baby formula, listening to Arina gurgling through the baby monitor I have in my hand. I don’t need it on, though, because Ruslan’s in the room with Arina. Happy with the mix, I put the formula in the microwave, testing it on the back of my hand. Satisfied with its tepid temperature, I hum on my way to the bedroom, stopping as I see what’s going on from afar. Ruslan’s reading a story to Arina, but it’s not just any kind of story. It’s a pink book with princesses on the front of the cover.

Pressing my body against the door, I listen intently, disbelieving the sight I’m looking at. Ruslan, with his six-foot-four frame, his body covered in tattoos, and an intimidating beard is reading with plenty of expression to Arina.

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