Page 23 of Bound to a Monster

I’m shaking in the bathroom. I lock it, just to be sure, and unpack the test. The little stick looks like a knife, and it’s sure as hell sharp enough to cut my life to shreds.

The sick part of all this is I always knew I’d be a mother one day. Or at least I always wanted to be. When I lost my mom, I decidedreally young that I’d make up for it by becoming the best mother I could be, sort of in honor of the mom I never got to have. I always had that dream in the back of my head, and now that it’s staring at me in the face, I’m starting to wonder if maybe that was a stupid idea.

Because I’m not ready.

I’m not evencloseto ready.

And not with this man.

I breathe deep to keep myself from crying as I check the results.

And end up puking in the toilet again as the positive test watches me from the vanity.

This can’t be happening.This can’t be happening. There’s no way I’m pregnant right now. There’s no way Lev knocked me up that night.

I take another. It’s positive.

This is absurd. I had sexone freaking timeand I ended up pregnant. Either I have the worst luck in the world—entirely possible—or I’m way more fertile than I realized.

This is sick. This is fucked.

Lev is the father of my child.

Under normal circumstances, marrying the man that got me pregnant wouldn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

Except this isn’t normal. This is the asshole from that night, the handsome, charming bastard, the man that all but told me he has absolutely no interest in having an actual marriage with me.

The man who basically treated me like a piece of trash.

After fucking me all night like I was his princess.

I puke in the toilet again and knock my head on the lid when someone bangs on the door. “Carmie? You in there? Are you puking right now?”

“No, I’m fine,” I yell, flushing the toilet quickly. It’s Luca’s voice on the other side of the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dad called, he says there’s a bunch of wedding shit the planner’s bugging him about, and you’re not answering your phone. What the hell are you doing in there?”

I gather up all my stuff and shove it in the plastic shopping bag. If Luca sees this test and figures out what’s going on, I’m totally screwed.

“I can’t use the bathroom in peace in my own house?”

“No, you can’t fucking disappear a few days before your wedding, you numbskull. Come out and talk to Dad. He called me back from work for this shit.”

“You don’t have a real job!”

“I’m a busy man, Carmie! I run the fucking restaurant!”

It’s a goddamn front and runs itself, but I bite back that retort and flip him off through the door.

I gather myself in front of the mirror. Internally, I’m losing my goddamn mind. But externally, I make myself presentable.

I’m Carmela Marino. I’m the daughter of Bruno Marino, an important man. Sister of Daniel and Luca. A good Italian girl,a nice Catholic, always does her homework, obeys her family’s orders, doesn’t step out of line.

A nice girl.

Not the kind of slut that gets pregnant from a one-night stand.

“You sure you’re good?” Luca asks when I brush past him and head to my room. “What’s in the bag?”

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