Page 42 of Twisted Obsession

Callum pours champagne and raises his glass in a toast. “To the end of that feckin’ snake," he says, triumph in his voice. I lift my own flute mechanically, but the tumultuous feeling in the pit of my stomach forces me to do nothing more than pretend to sip, but while the bubbles dance mockingly, a dreadful thought occurs to me…

Did my brothers play a part in the Viper’s demise? Is that what this sick feeling is? Because if that’s ever proven to be the case or even suspected—then nothing will ever prevent a full-scale war with La Cosa Nostra.

Inevitably, my thoughts turn to Dominic and the nausea swells, causing me to excuse myself from the table in a hurry.

“Are you okay?” Ciaran asks, concern lacing his voice.

I nod. “Yeah, I just… this is a lot to take in.”

Thankfully, neither of the twins seems to be surprised by that. They exchange a look but let me go without questioning me further.

I only just manage to get back to my suite. Hurrying to the bathroom, I barely make it in time before I retch into the toilet bowl, and shortly after that I climb into bed, hoping a good night's sleep will help.

Except it doesn’t.

The following morning finds me in the same position, staring down the toilet bowl before I’ve even eaten. What the heck?

Not only that, but my breasts feel tender and achy, making me wonder if my period is about to start.

That’s when I stop in my tracks as shock splinters through me and my heart begins to race as I mentally count back the days. No, it can't be! But as I stand there, frozen in place, the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm late. Very late.

Fuuuuck!

Running into the bedroom, I dig out the burner phone and pray Emylyah is free to answer before the freak-out threatening to explode my brain escapes the tenuous control I have over it. I need a pregnancy test and there’s no way I can get hold of one of those by myself, without anyone knowing.

I fumble with the jammer and have to stop and take a deep breath, checking it over again to ensure it’s activated properly. This is another conversation I really can’t afford for anyone to overhear.

My sweaty fingers slip on the phone screen, and I have to stop and wipe them on my sleep shorts, but finally, I manage to make the call.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each ring feels like an eternity. I'm about to hang up when Emylyah's sleepy voice answers, "Hello?"

"Lyah, it's me," I whisper, even though I know the jammer is active. Old habits die hard. "I need your help. It's urgent."

There's a rustling sound on the other end and when she speaks again, her voice is clearer, more alert. "Roisin? What's wrong?"

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I need you to get me a pregnancy test. As soon as possible. And... and I need you to be discreet about it."

There's a moment of silence on the other end. When Emylyah speaks again, her voice is gentle but edged with shock. "Oh, shit. Are you sure?"

"No," I admit, my voice cracking. "That's why I need the test. But... I'm late. And I've been feeling sick. And with everything that's happened..."

I trail off, unable to finish the thought. Emylyah doesn't need me to. She knows about Dominic.

“Why don’t you come and stay over… now the Viper’s dead, your brothers should ease up a little, don’t you think? And as it happens, Nico and Darian are away on business tomorrow night.”

I used to stay with Emylyah all the time, but I haven’t since before… Now, though, it seems like the obvious choice. But can I wait until tomorrow for the life-changing news I’m desperate to confirm?

“Okay,” I tell her. “Good plan.”

I need to get my head on straight, put on a good show and make my brothers think the news of the Viper’s death has freed me from the shackles that have been holding me back from living my life to the full. They’ll buy that, right?

Thirty minutes later, I breeze into the dining room, ready for the performance of my life.

“Hey, are you okay now?” Callum asks as I grab bacon, eggs, and toast from the buffet the kitchen has delivered. Fortunately, after spewing my guts up, I’m ravenous.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this great,” I tell him enthusiastically around a mouthful of food.

He looks a little skeptical and I wonder if I’ve overdone it. “Last night…”

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