Page 39 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

“You look like shit” is the first thing that my father tells me.

“Thanks, but I could say the same for you,” I automatically answer back. Which is true. His skin looks a little pale, almost grey, with dark circles around his eyes. I guess the stress from not raping an innocent girl is getting to him.

Stefano laughs it off as if it were perfectly normal banter for the two of us. He raises his hand and addresses the men surrounding him, “Gentlemen, can you leave us for a moment?”

Ten grumbling Italian mafiosos in their late fifties rise up from the table, their chairs dragging and screeching against the linoleum floor as they haul their potbellies outside. Eduardo, one of my father’s closest and longest associates, remains seated until Stefano calls his name as well and sends him outside. Eduardo glares at me, but I shrug it off. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what he thinks of me. They can have their power and their fucking money as long as they never lay a finger onmyNicki.

Alessandro heads for the doors, but my father calls out to him, “Stay, Alessandro.”

My brother obeys like a trained dog and stands several feet to my left. He gives me a look, a smirk that I know too well, which makes me regret not beating the shit out of him the other day.

Well, it’s still not too late.

“Do you know why I built this bunker?” my father asks me. He grabs a bottle of pinot noir and pours himself a glass. My eyes trace the direction of his hand and land on the table, and I notice what they’d been discussing prior to my arrival. Long lens photographs are scattered all over the table, showcasing the Borelli family. I spot a few pictures of Nicki, but these were taken before my father’s planned abduction. There are blueprints, maps, and stacks of printed documents that are too hard to decipher from where I’m standing. One thing is clear though: Stefano Rossi means business.

“No,” I answer my father’s question.

“Of course, you don’t,” Stefano brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip. “You were too young to remember. In fact, you were only in your mother’s belly when I started building this fortress of mine. You see, there’s something more important than power and money in our line of business. Do you know what that is?” He glances at the two of us, but I know this is a rhetorical question. My father likes to drag things whenever he’s trying to make a point. It’s a tactic of his. It’s similar to when the police detain a suspect and purposely make them wait for hours on end to sweat out a confession from them. It’s not the interrogation that gets to them, it’s the waiting, the anxiety building up, and the mere fact that any moment now, they’re going to get caught.

However, my father underestimates me. I know his games, and I know his moves.

Nice try old man.This isn’t going to work on me.

“Information,” Stefano declares the word like it’s the most obvious answer. “Information is precious. We can’t keep our ship afloat if we have leaks allowing water to get in and out. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” I answer in a monotonous voice.

“Do you know why I gathered everyone here today?” he asks me again.

“No,” I say.

“Of course, you don’t,” Stefano says. “You’ve been slipping in and out of this manor like a fucking ghost. Don’t even think for one second that I’m stupid enough not to notice it.” My father wags a finger at me. “Now, that Borelli girl hasn’t been seen or heard from in days. She couldn’t have gone out of the city because my men are guarding every exit, and just one little slip, and I’ll know, so that means she’s still here. There are only two possibilities: the Borelli family outsmarted us, and they have her bunkered down somewhere, or some precious information leaked out, and our enemies got to her before we did. We know it’s not the Borellis, or else my sources would be telling me otherwise, so there’s really one possibility left.”

I can sense the tension in the atmosphere. Has my father found out about what I did? What if his men are on their way to the cabin right now?

What the fuck is my plan?

These questions swirl around my head, but I’m able to maintain a poker face. Stefano takes another sip of his wine, “Our enemies, whoever they are, seem to have underestimated us because you see, we found a lead.”

“Oh?” The word escapes my mouth automatically. Fortunately, my father doesn’t notice my immediate reaction.

“Twenty-four hours ago, when you were out there sowing your oats or whatever it is you’re doing,” he says, “we found a body down river. We immediately recognized him as Vito. Does the name sound familiar, Alessandro?”

“The fuck do I know?” Alessandro scoffs.

My father turns to me, “What about you, Ezio?”

“No,” I answer.

“Vito is,was, one of Borelli’s men,” he continues. “He was the one who was supposed to pick up the Borelli girl from school. If he’s dead, then that means someone got to her first. We only have one question left: who the fuck dared to intervene in our business?”

“Like you said,” I reply. “It must be from the other families.”

“Really?” Stefano raises an eyebrow at me. “And on what evidence doyoubase this on?”

“I haven’t just been sowing my oats,” I flat out lie. “I’ve been doing my own investigation like you told me to. You want the Borelli girl? I’ll give her to you in a fucking silver platter. Just give me time.”

Never. Not over my dead body.

---