Page 31 of Surprise Baby for the Don

I toss my phone onto the desk, my fists clenching as I try to tamp down the surge of anger bubbling up inside me. David’s bluffing. He has to be. But there’s a small, nagging doubt, a voice in the back of my mind reminding me that the Savinis aren’t the type to make empty threats. They may be watching me now, aware of my new paramour. If they lay a single finger on her, I will killthem with my bare hands. I had to protect her.

Then it occurs to me that I haven’t checked in with Ginny since I woke up this morning.

She’s off on her “surprise,” but I don’t actually know where she goes. I don’t want to ruin it, but her safety right now is my utmost priority or else I will come to regret this for the rest of my days. I hit her contact in my phone and wait impatiently as the line rings, pacing the empty room and getting annoyed with the echo of my own feet. But I can’t stop moving. Fear is propelling me to act. Where was she?

She’s probably working, elbow-deep in paint or something, but damn it, if she doesn’t pick up her phone, I’m going to explode. The call goes to voicemail and I scream out several cusses, pressing her contact again. Again, she doesn’t answer, my call going to voicemail.

Practically sprinting now, I almost bump into one of the house staff as I head back to my office to grab my things and look for her.

“Mr. Rossi, is everything okay?” the young man asks timidly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He’s just doing his job, but my anxiety is too high to deal with the overt politeness of the staff.

“Unless you know where Miss St. Croix is, I’m afraid you can’t,” I bark at him, already turning away from him.

“I don’t,” he calls to me, and I roll my eyes, but he continues. “But perhaps you could call her driver?”

Of course, why didn’t I think of that? My anxiety has made me stupid, and that’s what the Savinis want. They want me weakand performing at my absolute worst. On my way to the office to grab my car keys, I call her driver. He picks up on the first ring.

“Mr. Rossi, what can I do for you?”

Thank goodness for my overly polite staff.

“I need to know where Ginny is right now,” I nearly scream at the man.

“Of course, sir,” he answers, his professional tone not waving. “She wanted to keep it a surprise, but she’s at the Wheeler apartment complex.”

“Are you with her?” I bark.

“I’m afraid I’m not,” he answers, confirming my worst fear. “She told me she would call me when she was ready to leave.”

Of course she did. Perfect. Just perfect. She was at the hit spot, unattended and unprotected. Fuck. I hang up on him and run out to my car, ready to drive myself recklessly if it meant seconds from saving potentially the love of my life.

19

Ginny

Istand in the middle of the apartment, paint roller in hand, staring at the freshly painted walls. The color is a perfect shade of light brown I found at the hardware store. It’s warm, soft, homey, and cozy. It’s exactly what I pictured when I looked through the paint samples. It’s so perfect in the room, neutral enough to not be overpowering, but still inviting.

It’s probably sappy, even a bit ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I wanted to redesign this place for Mateo without him knowing. It’s not easy to surprise a man like him, especially when he makes me travel everywhere with a driver, but I made the man swear to secrecy. After everything Mateo’s done for me, I wanted to do something unexpected for him, to somehow find a way to thank him. This was the only way I knew how.

There’s also the fact that this apartment is where we made love for the first time, where everything shifted between us. In a way, it feels sacred to me, the place where everything began. I want to transform it into something special, a space that reflects the deep feelings growing between us. Or, at the very least, the deep feelings that I have for him.

It’s crazy to think I’ve only known him for a few weeks. He’s completely transformed my life, and he’s taken care of me in a way that no one else ever has. Mateo has spoiled me. Sometimes it’s a little overwhelming, but I’ve come to realize that it’s his way of showing he cares.

Cassidy, on the other hand, still isn’t sure about him. I dip my roller into the paint and tackle the white, dingy walls underneath as I remember our conversation a few weeks ago.

“Ginny, get real, he’s using you for something.”

We were sitting in her living room, a spread of junk food laid out on her table and a sappy romcom playing low on her TV.

“Cass,” I warned, feeling protective of Mateo. “He isn’t like that. He has everything he could possibly need. He’s with me because he wants to be.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, you started out as a bargaining chip.”

I sunk back into the couch, feeling the effects of her words. I knew my sister meant well, but she had the bad habit of being extremely blunt. She was as protective of me as I was of Mateo, but she didn’t understand him at all.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch sometimes?” I complained, picking up a handful of popcorn from the coffee table and throwing it at her.

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