Page 71 of Twisted Vows

When my alarm rings, he swipes ignore without missing a beat.

I orgasm again.

He’s too sexy. Too powerful. Too trustworthy.

We lie wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, but before I fall into a deep sleep, he rouses me. I grumble but follow him to the shower.

After a quick shower and donning fresh scrubs, I realize how late I am to work, but Fiero refuses to let me skip breakfast.

When he points out how punctual I’ve been ever since he met me, I relent and call the front desk. The on-call nurse forgives me and reworks the schedule without fussing at me or asking questions, and when I arrive, no one gives me grief.

Even as I dive into work—which proves more chaotic than ever, since my coworkers continue to gossip about last night’s power outage—doubts plague me. My nausea never goes away, and without the fog of depression, I can’t stop my mind from replaying Fiero’s hopeful expression when he asked about morning sickness. Whether it’s hopeful thinking or rightful suspicion, I keep wondering if there’s more to my symptoms than I assumed.

Halfway through the day, I can’t stand my circling thoughts, and since buying a pregnancy test will rouse too much suspicionfrom Fiero, I ask a female coworker if she’d test the ultrasound machine on me.

My heart pounds in my throat as I lie with my belly exposed. She squirts cold goop onto my lower abdominals and lowers the wand to my stomach. I almost push her hand away, wanting to flee as a spike of anxiety hits me, but I clench my fingers in my bunched-up shirt and stare at the monitor.

She presses around, identifying my liver, gallbladder, and kidneys before locating my ovaries and shifting slightly toward my uterus.

She falls silent as I stare in shock. For several seconds, neither of us moves. She breaks the silence by reaching forward and turning on the Doppler. The rapid lug-lug of my baby’s heart breaks my stupor. I sob. Tears stream down my temples, but I can’t peel my eyes away from the screen.

If ever there was a time to cry, now would be it. My inner voice doesn’t dare lift her head. I’m so fucking allowed to sob right now.

My nausea wasn’t only stress. Work wasn’t the only reason I was exhausted. What I thought was my menstrual cycle was early pregnancy spotting, which was why the severity and duration were so mild.

I’m about nine weeks pregnant. The bean on the screen jerks and flails tiny little limbs, but I don’t feel the movement. Yet.

Fucking hell, I should freak out, but I can’t. Joy, wonder, and love pour through me.

I’m carrying Fiero Capito’s baby.

After assuring my coworker my tears are happy ones, I ask her to print the sonograms and tuck them into my pocket the moment I finish wiping the goop from my belly. She offers me a few minutes alone. I thank her and accept.

I lean over the sink and splash water on my face, dab dry using the cardboard-like paper towels, and stare at my reflection in the metal backsplash.

With my heart in my throat, I pull out my phone and open my contacts. I pause with my finger hovering over Fiero’s name.

Other than responding to a few of his texts, I’ve never reached out to him before. I’ve never begun a conversation. Never called him.

I hit the button and lift it to my ear. He answers before the first ring ends.

“What’s wrong,mia caramellina? Where are you?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m still at work, but I need to tell you something in person. Can you come pick me up now?”

“Of course,amore mio. Give me ten minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

I agree and end the call. After pacing the room a few times, I decide to jump back into work while I wait for him, but as I wrap my fingers around the door handle, my phone buzzes.

An unknown number sent me a text. The blood drains from my head when I open it. The three little dots dance before the five most damning words I’ve ever read appear.

Come alone. Tell no one.

I lean my head against the door and fight to regulate my breathing as my worst nightmare comes true.

Seppi Capito found us. In the picture, he stands mere feet away from Katherine as she descends into the subway. The street signs in the background tell me her location.

With my throat tight and my vision blurry, I twist the door handle and rush to the nurse’s station.

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