Page 18 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

Perhaps it’s not luck after all, but fate, to find her so quickly. I’ll take either one. My eyes tick back and forth between the screen and the actual scene taking place on the lawn, observing every move she makes while admiring her fresh-faced, youthful beauty. She appears serious as she talks with her friend. Their conversation doesn’t seem like a happy one. In a graceful motion, she curls her body up, drawing her knees in tight and wrapping her arms around them. Her dark locks skim her shoulders as she does so. I long to touch that hair, caress it between my fingers, feel its feathery strands brush against the skin of my palm as I run my hand through it.

Yes, this and many other images of what we’ll do together flash in my mind like a movie montage, each one more exciting than the last. The idea of talking to her again entices me. I wonder if she’ll handle another conversation this time, considering how we left things the first time we met. Nicki casts her eyes down; her fingers pull at the grass in an act of sheer frustration. She seems troubled. More problems at home, I wonder?

A moment later, they both get to their feet and start to walk toward the building. I want to follow them in, but I hardly think I’d blend in with the college crowd. I watch them in the cam feed as they disappear inside. Willing myself to stand down, I put the car in gear and circle the entire building, noting every access point. It would be an easy matter to monitor all the entrances if it were a stand-alone structure, but there’s a second floor pedway that connects to another building. Unfortunate, but it is only one additional escape route to watch. And that’s what I do best; I’m a watcher.

***

As the sun moves past midday and stretches on into the afternoon, there’s still no sign of Nicki or her friend. I circle the building yet another time, my line of sight obscured by the increasing traffic of students exiting as the day grows later. As the sunlight fades, so do my chances of spotting either of them. In the growing dusk, those crossing the pedway are only indistinct silhouettes, unrecognizable. Though it seems impossible that both of them could have escaped my notice, I may have to admit defeat for today. No matter. I will have the information I need soon enough, and I will find a way to get close to her.

An incoming call disrupts my focus, and when I look down at the screen, I see it’s my brother calling. This is rare, and I can’t imagine what the piece of shit has to say that would be of any interest or import to me, but I answer it anyway. “Yeah,” I say.

“Where are you?” are his first words.

“The fuck do you want?”

“I’d think twice about that tone, brother, considering you’ll be answering to me someday.”

“Keep dreaming, asshole.What the fuck do you want?”

Alessandro clucks disapprovingly and just as I’m about to hang up, he speaks. “The old man is having a shit fit. He’s called a sit down with the administration.”

“The administration? When?”

“Now,stupido. Get your ass down here.”

“On my way,” I say and end the call. There’s no pissing around when it comes to sit downs, and if it involves the brass of the outfit, something big is going down. I spin the car around and leave the campus grounds doing well above the speed limit.

When I reach our estate, the cars parked in the roundabout at the front entrance represent a who’s who of the Rossi family. And by family, that means business associates, whether they carry the Rossi name or not. My father is thecapo dei capi, the boss of all bosses, and has summoned the inner circle. Though the road to that position has been cleared for me, it is paved with the dead bodies of countless foes, friends, and even family. Trust is not something easily earned or kept. The balance of power can shift without warning, and above all else, it's my duty to keep that balance tipped in my favor.

The dining hall is set as though for a state dinner. Amid fine china, Bavarian crystal and gleaming silverware, the administration gathers near the head of the table where Stefano sits. He looks up as I enter the room. “Ezio,” he says, waving me to his side. “About time. Gentlemen, we can begin now that Ezio has arrived.”

I scan the solemn faces lining the table as I stride toward the vacant chair reserved for me at my father’s right hand. Eduardo is here, of course, and my little brother, who’s obviously not pleased with his seating position. I flash him a smug smile as I pass his chair at the far end of the table. Ourconsiglioreis also here, the family advisor, without whose assent no high-level decisions are made. Top brass, indeed.

I take my seat, my face now expressionless as befitting the heir apparent. It shows nothing of the feelings that roil deep inside me. Feelings as mixed as the salad that the staff is now setting out. Feelings of confinement, of anxiety and frustration, of longing, and of lust. Lust for something deeper and more meaningful than my mob existence can ever offer. Lust for a young girl that I have no business thirsting after, nor any normal way of getting to know intimately. Force is the only method the Rossis know to obtain what we want. I wonder if there will come a day when it mustn’t be so.

The sound of Stefano clearing his throat drags me from my scattered thoughts. “Gentlemen. We have a serious problem, and the problem has a name. Borelli. Fortunately, we also have a solution.

“Problem? You’re not suggesting we whack Borelli himself?” one of the underbosses asks.

This raises eyebrows around the table, including mine. The term ‘problem’ usually refers to someone very likely to be killed. But going after the Borelli boss is not the answer; he’ll be too well protected in any case.

“Too obvious. No, I have a much more…delicate plan,” Stefano replies. “Those Borelli zips have been a thorn in our side for too long. They are nothing but upstarts, muscling in on territory they have no claim on. Getting too big for their shoes, and they must be quashed once and for all.”

A low rumble rises from the group as they express their agreement, then Eduardo speaks up. “Yes, we must retaliate for what they did last night. One of our biggest laundry facilities—up in smoke, literally. We know the Borellis are responsible.”

“Then we hit them back the same way. Cripple their industries,” Alessandro insists, pounding the table with his fist, eager to draw attention to himself and be part of the conversation. A ripple of assent passes around the table.

Stefano waves off the suggestion, silencing all talk. “No, no; those things are merely appendages, tentacles of the monster, and they will grow back no matter how many times you cut them off. To truly hurt your enemies, you can’t simply go after an eye or a limb. You must attack the most precious organ.” He taps a finger to his chest. “The heart.”

To a man, the bosses variously nod or smile their delight at the prospect of a bloodyaffair de coeur. Like sharks, they can practically smell the blood and spilled entrails in the water. “To that end,” Stefano continues, “some new information has come to light.” He opens a large manila envelope and withdraws a stack of photo prints. “Giovanni Borelli has only one child. A daughter, who has been kept out of the limelight for much of her young life but returned home from boarding school a year and a half ago.”

He passes the photos out to his left, making me the last to receive them. “I’m sure you are all familiar with many of the Borellis in these pictures,” Stefano says. “But one member has been conspicuously missing up until now. His daughter Nicoletta.”

My heart jumps at the name, then I steady myself. It’s merely a coincidence. The object of my affections is a Graziano, not Borelli.

“Now there’s a sally,” someone comments. Someone else lets out a wolf whistle. Sniggers and smiles are exchanged as the photos make the rounds.

“She has been observed at the Borelli mansion for the past month. I propose we…” Stefano pauses and treats us to a cruel, partially toothless smile. “…detain the young lady for a time.”

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