Page 87 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

I turn to face him in the dark, tracing out the gorgeous carving of his face.

“Why are you so sure about me?” I ask.

“Because I already know you’re crazy,” he stage-whispers, and kisses me again. It turns my heart into sparklers and fireworks.

Nico was right, after all. It did make me a little jealous.

I wish I could be the girl who Nico hadwantedto marry. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want it now.

I spend the night next to him, dragging my hand over my belly. My thoughts spin in the quiet. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. When I know he’s passed out, I dare to reach over and bring Nico’s hand to my stomach. I let his palm rest there, fingers sprawling over the thin barrier between him and the child he doesn’t want. I wonder if they are good for each other, if babiescan sense their fathers close by. If they just know somehow. I like to think so, even if it makes little sense. The tinysomethingin my belly can’t know anything yet, and still...

My heart flows over. It heaves quietly in my chest and waters in my eyes. Love drowns me, pours out of me down my cheeks.

I’m glad Nico showed up when he did. I’m glad he stalked me through the city, invaded my life like a conqueror, tore apart my self-destructive autonomy, and ignored all the family’s wishes that would have kept us apart. It sounds crazy, but lying next to him and listening to him breathe, just being with him makes me happy to the point of tears: I’m glad he’s fucking insane.

Tonight could have gone so much differently if he weren’t ruthless and unstoppable and just a little unhinged. I could be lying next to Thaddeus, sick with guilt, convincing myself that I was doing the right thing.For the family. But I’m here. I’m with him. I’m still his. And I havemyfamily to think about. I slide my hand on top of Nico’s, interlocking our fingers over my secret.

I am going to find another way. I have to.

Because I’ve made a decision.

Nico might not want to raise his baby, but I do.

Sunlight spills fresh across the floor, a deliciously cold chill settling over the room. I drift between formless dreams when a knock rattles my door. I have a moment of groggy panic before I realize Nico is gone. He left the bedsheets neatly made, all evidence that anyone ever lay beside me cleanly swept away, except for one thing: a sleek wooden box on the pillow. Before I can inspect it, Marcel knocks again. I know his knock as goodas anything else about him. I bark at him to give me a minute. I inch my way to the door.

“What?” I sigh, bleary and sick.

I don’t know what time it is, but I know it’s too early for any rational person to be fully dressed and awake. Of course, Marcel is anyway. I can barely get my eyes open through the exhaustion.

“I have news from Salvatore, though you didn’t hear it from me.”

I perk right up, blinking through the haze.

“Thaddeus called him this morning. He told us what happened last night. That Nico intruded on your evening, your birthday, and that he felt threatened. He thinks Nico is trying to intimidate him out of taking the deal.”

“He told you that this early?” I ask. Not only is Thaddeus alive, but he’s also already talking. Either the man ended up getting his stomach pumped, or he has the tenacity of a cockroach.

“Ava,” Marcel interrupts, trying to get me to listen. “Salvatore is moving Thaddeus into the house with us.”

The nausea hits the back of my throat. I swallow bile, trying to be discreet as I cough.

“What house?Thishouse? Why?”

“Because you’re going to be married to him soon, Ava. For once, I agree with Sal about this. You need to get to know this man before you’re tied down to him. Living with him first will give you an idea of who really he is, how compatible you are...and itwill make it harder for Nico to get in the way if you two are here together all the time, sharing a room.”

“Compatibility doesn’t matter in arranged marriages, Marcel. You just make it work. I shouldn’t have to live with him until I don’t have another choice—”

Marcel interrupts my whining.

“Well, you don’t have another choice. It’s Sal’s decision, and to hear him tell it, he’s making it on your behalf.” My brother’s voice lowers. “Don’t act like you can’t call this off whenever you want,” he says, as if the walls have ears, even though my side of the house is a ghost town these days. “You know Sal would renegotiate if you change your mind, and it’salrightto change your mind.”

I have changed my mind, but I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about it yet. My problem is a Jenga tower, and pulling out one piece causes the whole thing to sway precariously, one wrong move away from collapse.

“And have you get ousted from the family?” I counter. “No chance.”

“Let Nico try to test me, Ava. He’ll get buried six feet deep when Salvatore finally realizes there’s no better use for him, and we’ll deal with that fallout as it comes. Just like we should have done from the beginning.”

My stomach sours. That can’t happen, either.

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