Page 2 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

I shake my head amusedly at the grinning emoji at the end of her message.

Me:If only that were the issue. I gotta get outta here by then…plz…plz?

Kate:K, I’ll be there…invite Joe n Simon to meet us at the Satellite?

Me:Sure. Pull up to the staff entrance at back, though.

Kate:Got it. See u then.

I breathe a sigh of relief, even though there’ll be hell to pay when I don’t show up at the party. Maybe I’ll ask Katie if I can stay at her place tonight to stay out of my father’s direct line of fire, at least until tomorrow. It will be nice to see the boys, too. Katie’s long-time boyfriend, Joseph Park and his best friend, Simon Morales, are great fun and would do anything to protect us. Plus, they’re both 21 and can buy liquor. The Satellite Club is one of our favorite hangouts.

My eyes linger around the text bubble that contains Simon’s name. He’s nice enough and cute, and I know he has a bit of a crush on me, but although we’ve been hanging out since I got back from boarding school, Simon doesn’t know who I really am. It would be dangerous for him if we fooled around. My father wouldn’t take an interference in his plans very lightly.

If I were a normal girl, I’d flirt with him, go on a few dates, and have some fun. I’d be able to decide who my boyfriend should be. Instead, I’m skipping dating altogether and moving straight to a husband, the choice made for me. Behave like a good little princess and pretend to like it, just because tradition says so. Well, I don’t like it; in fact, I hate it with every fiber of my being.

A lot of girls would kill to be in my shoes, but they don’t know that every present comes with strings. The only things that are keeping me going are the plans to finish college and the desire to escape the shackles of this bloody tradition. It’s so dark, oppressive, and backward I can’t stand it…just like this house. Full of dreary dark drapes and bullshit ostentation; gold statues and marble floors with Persian rugs. All of it paid for in blood, terror, and filthy mafia money. It’s obscene.

Oh… if only my mother were here.

She’d have no power to stop my dad, but at least I’d have her comfort, something I need so desperately right now.

My tears spill out and stain my pillow. I sniffle, curling into a ball.

I wish I wasn’t born into the mafia. Though I’ve never wanted for anything, I’m still unhappy. I hate this life. Hate that I have such limited control ofmylife. For years, I thought it was a normal thing until Daddy enrolled me in boarding school. It was an attempt to get me away from the spotlight, but it did more than that for me. I got exposed to other kids, another world, where young people were free to choose their own path and become anything they wanted to be, not forced to live under a suffocating shroud of crime, corruption, and secrecy.

I can’t wait for the day when Nicoletta Graziano-Borelli can be just Nicoletta, a regular girl with her own dreams and her own aspirations. Free to choose what I want, when I want, and who I want. To fall in love and make my own way. When I think of the unbearable prospect of staying here, a veritable prisoner in my own home, marrying a man I loathe and having to spread my legs for him on command for the rest of my life, that day can’t come soon enough.

Chapter Two

Ezio

I don’t know how many times I’ve sat at this table, eaten tasteless food, drank bitter wine, listened to endless lectures, and struck another monotonous day off the calendar. Today seems like one too many. I glance across the grossly oversized dining table to see my sycophantic little brother listening with rapture to every dry, vulgar word our father utters over dinner. What a fucking kiss-ass. He tries hard to impress the old man with his hero worship and phony bravado, but it won’t make any difference. He’ll never be what he wants to be. Me.

As the firstborn son, I alone will become the Don of this clan when our father is gone, as tradition dictates. Nothing Alessandro does will ever change that. I’ve been groomed for years in the family business and done everything expected of me. Extorted money; moved drugs and weapons; murdered on command. Done all of it to perfection and with no more thought than if I were changing my clothes.

I’m like our father that way when it comes to business: ruthless, emotionless, and cold. A chip off the old block, as they say. I play my part well. But I would never dare reveal my true ambitions, my deepest desires. Those must remain hidden, and I’m very good at hiding. I’ve been doing it all my life.

“And what about you, Ezio,” the great Stefano Rossi says, turning his attention to me as he sits on his de facto throne at the head of the table. “Why haven’t you brought any of your nicegumadsaround? The way he’s going, Alessandro here might make me a grandfather before you even get a date,” he chuckles, wiping a glob of gravy off his chin. Table manners have never been one of his fortes.

My brother smirks, satisfaction making his eyes gleam. It’s not often that he comes out on top when being compared to me, so he can have it. It’s an insignificant comparison, anyway.

“I’m only thirty years old. There’s plenty of time left to procreate,” I murmur.

A slight lift of my father’s brows precedes the clanging from his knife and fork as he drops them onto his plate. “Plenty of time? I’m not getting any younger, boy.”

I take in his jet-black hair that he dyes every other month and his wrinkle-free face, curtesy of a recent cosmetic surgery. It’s ironic that he’s aware of his old age, yet he’s doing everything to stop the clock. I shake my head at him.

“You already have your heir. I’ve already been skillfully trained to succeed you. What are you worried about?”

“Correction: heirs. We’re both skillfully trained to take over when Father’s gone,” Alessandro interrupts. “Stop acting as if I don’t exist.”

Twisting in my seat, I regard him with a carefully arranged glare. I know how much he wishes that I didn’t exist. In fact, he’s tried to make that a reality once before. “Whether or not you exist, dear brother, it changes nothing. You will never be the heir. Your sons will never be heirs. The sooner you reconcile with that fact, the better.”

I lean forward, keeping him in place with my hard stare. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

Alessandro practically launches himself across the table, his deep-set eyes burning like two hot coals. “Fuck you, Ezio. Screw you for being born—”

“Quiet!” Stefano interrupts, silencing him with that single word. “Sit down, Alessandro.” My brother complies, sinking reluctantly back into his chair, but the look of pure hatred on his face remains. “I thought we’d put that unfortunate incident behind us.”

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