Page 115 of Clinch'd

Every part of me is screaming to tell him about the baby but I’m also scared shitless. I need a bit more time, I reason as he says, “Okay, baby. Stay out of trouble.”

Snorting, I end the call and grab my shit before stalking down the street. Although I feel better for having eaten, I’m still strung out on nerves.

Maybe I can grab a nap? I’m fucking exhausted and sleepy after all the carbs.

Except as I approach my door, I slow when a car pulls up to the curb, this one decidedly fancier than the neighborhood warrants.

It’s clearly out of place and I eye it warily as a man emerges from the driver's seat and makes eye contact. Who the fuck is he?

When my phone buzzes, I glance down to find Lorri on the line and pressing call, I bark, “Lorri? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“Chill. I’ve been working shit out,” she says, and I roll my eyes to the sky. Great, I can just imagine how that’s going to go down.

“Look, I–”

“Min, I made this right. I’m making it right, but you have to come here. You have to speak to Sal,” she says, and I pause.

Sal? That sounds real fucking cozy.

“I’m sorry. What?” Speak to him about what? Is this a ploy to lure me to my fucking death?

“It’s okay. I promise. He just wants to meet you. Min…it’s his baby. We’re getting married. See, everything is okay.” Her voice wobbles at the end, no doubt because marrying that fucker is not a happy ending.

But shit, if she’s pregnant with his child, he’ll never let her go. Ever.

Not unless he’s dead and I’m not a fucking ninja, I can’t exactly penetrate his wall of guards that I assume he has, to kill him, assuming I could kill a man, which is doubtful.

“Please,” she whispers and even though I know this is a bad fucking idea, I agree. I have to get on the inside, oh the irony so I can figure out a way for the mafia bastard to set us free.

Maybe it’s a stupid fucking idea but it’s the only one I’ve got. I guess I’m going to dinner with the head of a criminal organization. Yay.

I’m still processing the fact that I’m pregnant and I wish I could do it without the prospect of my death hanging over my shoulders. Fuck me.

All of this circles my brain as I ride in the backseat of the sedan that was conveniently waiting for me while the driver accelerates onto the freeway.

Closing my eyes, suddenly nauseous with the scenery flying by, I try to envision my life on the other side of this but come up empty. I’m hoping that’s not a harbinger of things to come but I can’t help it.

I never had time to call my brother and I’m regretting it when I look out the window as we roll down a long drive and a majestic home comes into view. It’s beautiful, from the wide windows facing a perfectly manicured lawn to the stone statues standing guard out front.

Lorri is standing on the porch when I arrive, and I mentally sigh as I exit and approach. She looks good, glowing actually but I see the tiny worry lines around her eyes. I guess messing with the head of a crime syndicate finally brought her head out of the sand. Too bad, it’s too fucking late.

She doesn't say anything, and I follow her inside, passing over gleaming tiles and rooms filled with furniture it's likely I will never be able to afford. Was that the attraction for Lorri? Finally having the wealth she’s been searching for all these years?

At the end of the hall, we enter a room easily the size of an olympic style pool and my gaze is drawn to the man standing before a cold fireplace. His black eyes watch me approach and my heart jumps into my throat.

I resist the urge to rub away the filth now coating my skin. If I thought Suit was bad, this man is far more menacing. Despite his charming smile, I feel as though I’m standing in the room with the devil himself and suppress a shiver.

How did Lorri sleep with this fucker? He’s handsome to be sure with his charismatic presence, long lean frame, dark eyes, and hair, but all I see is cruelty and a coldness that’s decidedly not romantic.

Glancing at her sideways, I see her staring at Castinetti with a weird look. When she senses my attention, she pulls her lips into a ghastly smile and says, “Baby, this is my sister Minnie.”

She sounds like a robot, and I unintentionally shudder which is what Castinetti zeroes in on, of course.

Raising my chin, I nod and say, “Hello.”

He cocks his head, and a rush of icicles slide down my spine. Fuck me.

“Minnie,” he says, rolling the letters around on his tongue.

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