Page 32 of Surprise Baby for the Don

She screamed and laughed at the attack, then grabbed a handful of gummy bears and started lobbing them at me, one by one. They stuck to my skin for a moment before falling into the couch cushions.

“I’m not trying to bring you down, Gin, I swear to God,” she promised, holding up her hands in both surrender and truce. “It’s just that I’ve seen men like him before. He’s rich and powerful, the world is literally at his feet. People aren’t people to him, they’re pawns. I don’t want to see him hurt you. We only have space in this family for one fucked-up person, and Pops clearly doesn’t want to relinquish that title.”

I smiled bitterly, not wanting to talk about Dad. Eventually, Cass and I agreed to disagree about Mateo, and she told me that she would reluctantly hold back her judgment, at least for now.

Since then, we’ve texted a bit, but I’ve tried not to talk too much about Mateo. She doesn’t get it, and I suppose that’s okay. Truthfully, I don’t get it either. I didn’t know it was possible to fall for someone so fast, or to fall so deeply. And that’s one of the reasons I’ve been throwing myself into this project.

Then again, maybe he won’t even appreciate it. He’s not exactly the sentimental type from what I’ve gathered, and he probably won’t understand why I’ve spent the last few days pouring myself into this place. He might think I’m silly or delusional, a lovesick little girl. Maybe Cass is right and I’m just a pawn to him, or a plaything. There’s always the chance that he’s not feeling the way I’m feeling, that I’ve convoluted it all in my head. Maybe this room is just a way to pour my emotions out and hope that he’ll feel them and return them.

Or, maybe there’s a simpler, less sappy answer to why I’ve become so hyper-focused on getting this apartment done. It’s been a great distraction from the one thing I don’t want to think about.

I glance toward the bathroom, my stomach twisting as I catch sight of the long, white stick sitting on the counter. The positivepregnancy test has been sitting there for an hour now, taunting me, reminding me of a reality I’m not ready to face. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, to brush it off as a cheap test from the convenience store, the truth is staring me in the face.

I’m pregnant.

The thought alone makes me feel light-headed, a mix of fear and excitement swirling inside me. Of course, it could always be a false positive. Those things happen sometimes, right? I feel so stupid and naïve even wondering. After all, just a little less than a month ago I was still a virgin.

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself as I dip the roller back into the paint, mesmerized by the back-and-forth motion. Painting is helping. Focusing on the rhythm of the roller gliding over the wall, the smell of fresh paint filling the air. But it’s not enough. I know I won’t be able to put this out of my mind until I know for sure. I should take at least two tests to be certain, right? Or maybe three or four.

I drop the roller back into the paint and decide it’s time to get some real answers. I grab my bag, toss in my keys and wallet, and head out of the apartment. The drug store is only a block away, and as much as Mateo would probably have a fit if he knew I was out here alone, I don’t want to run the risk of the driver asking questions.

The evening air is cool, and I pull my jacket a little tighter around myself as I make my way down the street. The city sounds fade into the background as my thoughts swirl, my mind replaying every possibility, every what-if. I don’t even realize I’ve reached the store until I’m standing in front of it, the neon lights casting a faint glow on the sidewalk. My mind is completely on autopilot, too afraid to tune into the reality that is my currentcircumstance.

Once inside, I make a beeline for the aisle with the pregnancy tests, grabbing several off the shelf. If one test isn’t reliable, maybe multiple tests will give me a clearer answer. Quantity over quality, right? I try not to think about how ridiculous I must look, piling pregnancy tests into my basket, but the cashier barely glances at me as I pay. Just another day in the city, I guess.

I hurry back to the apartment, clutching the bag tightly as if it holds some kind of secret, as if anyone on the street could guess what’s inside. Maybe I clutch it to keep my own sanity. I’m like a balloon sitting a little too close to a pin. I might burst at any moment. By the time I reach the building, my heart is racing, a mix of nerves and anticipation thrumming through me. I push open the door and head up the stairs, trying to calm myself with each step. Soon, I’ll know. One way or another, I’ll have an answer.

I can’t help but wonder what kind of father Mateo would be, if it is true. He’d be doting, that much is certain. He’d spoil our baby rotten, and he would make sure I’m set up for life, even if he doesn’t feel the way about me that I feel about him. He would treat me well, at least with civility. He wouldn’t want our child to lead the same life he did, right? I shook away that thought. I didn’t want that for our baby. It was too harmful.

I’m too much in my head about this and I know it. There’s no use wondering what Mateo will do or think until I know for sure I’m pregnant. Once I’ve taken every single test, I’ll let my mind wander and deal with the hypothetical scenarios.

But as I reach for the door to the apartment, my plans are shattered. The door swings open, and I barely have time toprocess what’s happening before I see a man in a mask, standing in the doorway, blocking my path. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest as I take in the sight of him, the glint of metal in his hand.

Before I can react, he swings the butt of his gun toward me, hitting me square in the face. Pain explodes behind my eyes, and everything goes black.

20

Mateo

I’m sprinting toward my car, the weight of my gun pressing against my side as I hit the fob to unlock it. My heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through me, each second stretching out painfully long. Ginny is at the very place David warned me about. Has he been watching her, or is it just coincidence? With the Savinis, I never assume coincidence. They may be idiots, but they are precise in their ways. I have to get to her before he does or else I will have let everyone down. Her sister. Her dad. Hell, even my father.

When she’s safe, I’m not letting her go anywhere without a bodyguard. I don’t care how much she protests, she’s never going to be put in harm’s way again. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was never supposed to get caught up in my work.

I press the call button on my phone, dialing Rocco as I throw myself into the driver’s seat and start the engine. It rings twice before he picks up, his voice always a reassurance.

“Yeah, boss?” he asks, totally calm.

“Rocco, listen to me. I need everyone at the Wheeler apartment complex. Right now,” I tell him, trying and failing to keep the panic out of my voice.

My tires squeal loudly as I peel out of my driveway, and I’m sure he can hear them. Hell, I’m sure everyone within ten blocks can hear them. Hopefully it will convey exactly how serious this situation is. There’s a beat of silence on the other end as Rocco processes what I’ve said, and I can practically feel the tension through the line.

“Understood,” he finally answers, calming the storm inside of me by a fraction. “I’ll call the men—” he starts to say, but suddenly there’s a commotion, loud and chaotic.

There’s a shuffle and the phone seems to fall, hitting the ground hard. I hear him curse, a muffled thud, and then a raw, piercing scream that cuts through me like a knife. It’s Rocco’s voice, crying out in pain. I’m terrified he’s having a heart attack, and my panic rises even higher. I have to pull over to avoid hitting a car in front of me, and I take a few steadying breaths as I call out his name.

“Rocco?” I shout into the phone, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. “Rocco, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Silence. My pulse races, each second stretching out as I strain to hear something, anything that tells me he’s all right. All I can picture is him passed out on some sidewalk, nobody there to help him. He’s like a father to me, the man who helped raise me. He can’t be dying right now, not when Ginny’s in trouble too. It’s too much.

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