Page 19 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

“How long a time?” Eduardo asks.

Stefano shrugs. “As long as it takes. To break down the family. Convince them that their business is best conducted elsewhere.”

I listen to the discussion without emotion, my face unreadable, though it makes me uneasy. He means to kidnap Borelli’s daughter to accomplish his goal, and considering my father’s sinister apathy toward women, it doesn’t bode well for either side, and especially not for the girl. Blood feuds are the most violent of all, and it’s always the innocent who pay. The photos are finally handed to me, and I shuffle through the first few without much interest until one stops my heart cold.

Nicoletta.

Nicki.

A long-lens, grainy shot, but it’s her. It’s my Nicki. How is this possible? My world goes silent, the hubbub of voices and clanking dinnerware suddenly drowned as if I’ve been plunged underwater. My head swims in the noiseless abyss, trying to right itself, struggling for control, for rational thought. Her name is Graziano, not Borelli—she couldn’t be Giovanni’s daughter—yet this is undeniably her picture. Fuck me to hell. If she really is a Borelli, she is even further out of my reach. A romantic liaison between rival families is a recipe for death—a Romeo and Juliet made flesh, with the same inevitable and bitter outcome.

“When do we make the grab?” someone asks as my hearing returns.

“I’d love to bag that little piece,” another voice sneers lasciviously. “Her father won’t mind if I taste the goods a little, will he?” the voice laughs. Rage ignites in my belly like a bonfire being lit.She’s mine. You’ll never touch her. I’ll kill you first.

“Quiet!” Stefano yells. “Gentlemen, control yourselves. Patience is a virtue in thesecircumstances. We’ll keep the mansion under surveillance for a few days, a week perhaps; find out her movements, daily routines. Then the opportunity will present itself.”

“Alright, so who’s going to be the one to put the bag on her?” Eduardo asks, glancing around the table.

“I will,” a sickeningly familiar voice offers. I look up in alarm.

“You, Alessandro? You’ve never been on a job before. What makes you think you can pull this off?” my father asks.

“Exactly. Thanks to your neglect in assigning me duties, my face is relatively unknown,” Alessandro replies, spreading his hands wide. “And I’m closer to her age. I stand the best chance of approaching her without suspicion.”

“That may be so, but you can’t do it alone,” Eduardo says. “You’ll need some backup. Some muscle.”

“Says who? She’s a tiny girl, at least from the photo. You think I can’t handle that?” Alessandro argues. “I meet her, ask her out on a date, slip something in her drink, and the problem is solved. It doesn’t take Hercules to throw a drunk chick in the back of a car.”

I remain silent, only because I feel unable to speak. The thought of Alessandro even touching my Nicki makes my blood boil piping-hot. I’m appalled how quickly the administration agrees to such a plan. My mind races, considering all possible scenarios, variables, and outcomes. All the things that could go very wrong, or worse, go very right. My first instinct is to volunteer; it would sound logical that Stefano would entrust the job to me, but that raises a bigger problem. I’d be expected to succeed, to secure the package and turn her over to my father’s unsavory whims. Unseen, I slip Nicki’s photo out of the pile and into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.

I watch my father as the bosses continue to deliberate among themselves while Alessandro argues his case. Stefano leans back in his massive leather chair, his fingers steepled over his chest, the wheels of his criminal mind churning. He glances my way briefly, then holds up one hand to cut through the clamor of voices.

“That’s enough,” he says, and all eyes turn to him. “Alessandro makes a valid point. His idea is sound. At any rate, he can perform surveillance on the girl and report back. Then, if conditions are right, he may be the perfect choice for the job.”

My stomach tightens as I see my brother virtually beaming with satisfaction.

“But he will have to prove it,” Stefano adds. “Mine will be the final decision, of course.” He looks to theconsigliere, who nods his gray head in assent. “That’s all gentlemen. Please go back to your dinners.”

I almost knock my chair over as I rise from the table. No one seems to notice except Alessandro. He stares at me, a defiant look of triumph in his eyes. I turn away and walk briskly past the row of men returning to their meals. He can have father’s approval for all it matters. It won’t change his status or mine. He’s won nothing. He’ll never win anything as long as I’m breathing.

I go directly to my suite on the upper floor, pacing the rooms while I ponder. I need to act and act now, before my father’s plan sets in motion; before Alessandro or any of the family can get even the faintest whiff of Nicki’s whereabouts.

I pull out my mobile and begin a search. I’ll need something appropriate but inconspicuous. Something near enough for quick access but distant enough to provide obscurity. In a few minutes I’ve found what I’m looking for, and I smile for the first time since setting foot in this house. Yes, it will do nicely.

In fact, it’s perfect.

Chapter Nine

Nicoletta

“You’re not going to ride with me every day, are you?” I ask, breaking the nervous silence between my father and me.

Giovanni deigns to look in my direction from his place opposite me in the rear seat of our limousine as we drive to the college campus. His craggy, bespectacled face seems calm, but I know better. That steely exterior conceals many deep-rooted emotions. “Well, by God I should, my darling, seeing as you can’t be trusted to make the right decisions about your future,” he says. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

I swallow hard, his disappointment in me hurting more than any physical punishment. In spite of his controlling nature and how much I hate the kind of life he’s designed for me, I know he loves me, and I still crave his approval. I never wanted to disappoint him; all I wanted was my freedom to choose. Is that so much to ask of a parent?

“That’s not fair. I managed very well at boarding school without you or Aunt Carlotta,” I say. “I got top grades and was a model student. I never stepped out of line and never received any disciplinary action for the entire six years. Ask any of my teachers, they’ll tell you. I thought you were proud of my accomplishments there.”

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