Page 48 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

“But if I’m going to be here for a while though, I’m going to need more clothes.”

“Noted.”

A soft blush covers her cheeks. “And condoms.”

“One pack of condoms, coming right up.”

“Well…” She cocks her head, the blush deepening. “From the way you’ve been behaving, we’re going to need more than a pack.”

“Me?” I fake gasp. Satisfaction fills me when she chuckles. “You’re the one who insisted on having dessert just now.”

“Touché.”

My cell phone beeps with a reminder. Time to show my face at the Rossi Manor. “That’s my cue. I need to head out.”

Nicki pouts. A sudden pang fills my stomach, and I pull her in for a tight hug. “I promise, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You’d better.”

As I get ready, I can’t help but notice she’s a bit withdrawn, or that her body feels stiff when I kiss her goodbye. I leave the house, convincing myself she’s reacting to my departure. Like me, she’s already missing our physical connection.

It has nothing to do with trouble being in paradise.

Nothing at all.

***

I drive my Maserati back to the city. Besides showing my face at home, I have several errands to run and a plan to formulate. As much as I like the idyllic lifestyle inside our secluded cabin, it would be a mistake to become too comfortable. Sooner or later, I'll drop my guard and slip up. It doesn’t matter how good I am at hiding and lying, all secrets get found out eventually. My father or one of his men will discover our hideout, and my sins will be revealed. I will be executed for betraying the family and left to sink to the bottom of the ocean, while my beloved Nicki is passed around between my father and his disgusting cohorts.

I won’t allow it.My blood boils at even the slightest thought.

That’s why I need a plan. Lying to my father bought me some time, but I can’t keep stalling forever. Nicki and I can’t stay in the city. Stefano has too many eyes and ears, and we will be caught in an instant, not to mention the added surveillance from Borelli’s mafiosos. If we want to survive, we need to get out of here.But how?

I'm shelving the ideas for now because first things first: I need to stash some money. Suffice to say, being born into a mafia family means I have nothing to want in terms of wealth. Aside from my late mother’s inheritance, I also have several businesses running under dummy names – all illegal, obviously. All of these I inherited from my father. However, I can’t dip into those funds now. No, my father watches every stream of income, and I don’t want to raise suspicions. I park outside a fenced compound of storage units. I always stash my own cash in several hidden locations across the city, so that when I need money, I can access it and evade the probing questions from my father. I take out the key and search for unit 14. I arrive at the garage door, unlock it, and then hoist it up. A cloud of dust escapes the room, and I cover my nose and quickly head for one of the trunks. The unit was listed under a false name, George Smith. If anyone were to come poking their nose inside, the only things they would find are a canoe, fishing poles, and other fishing-related knick-knacks. I open one of the trunks and pull out the false bottom. I grab a suitcase and open it to double-check that the money is still there. It is. I take a few wads of bills and deposit them into my pocket, and then return everything as it was before and lock the door once again. I toss the briefcase into the passenger seat and make my way to my next destination: The Satellite Club.

It’s still too early in the evening for the hardcore partygoers to enter the Satellite, but being the ever-popular club that it is, it already had a number of members inside. Most of them were men in their late fifties, working dead-end white-collar jobs and were there to waste their money away on booze, drugs, and sex. I couldn’t care less. I immediately head to one of the hidden booths to meet with one of my informers.

I call him Gus, but I don’t really know his name. I know none of my informers’ names. It’s better to do business this way. The less you know, the better. But what I do know about Gus is that he’s exactly one of those fifty-year-old white men working dead-end collar jobs that I passed by just seconds ago. He blends in perfectly. Today, Gus is wearing a suit with a baseball cap and a pair of sneakers. I sit across from him and get straight to my point.

“What do you have for me?” I ask.

“Where’s the money?” he says.

I slide the briefcase under the table until it touches his knee. Gus takes a peek at the case and then nods his head, as if to acknowledge his receipt of my deposit.

“The Borellis are not happy,” says Gus. “They have not involved the police nor the press in search of the missing girl. They’ve been interrogating her friends.”

Katie. Joe. Simon.

“People in their circle assume the kids got something to do with her disappearance. Her old man arranged for her to marry Lucca D’Angelo, against her will, I might add, so they suspect they helped her to run away.”

Shit. The last thing I’d want is for the Borellis to hurt those kids. They’re innocent.

“But, of course, Borelli disregarded that rumor. I guess he knows they wouldn’t dare cross the mafia.”

I nod, relief filling me. “What else?”

“With the kids no longer suspects, Borelli turned his attention to his rivals.” Gus then lowers his voice to a whisper and leans across the table. “My sources tell me that the old boss is planning on taking out each mafia clan. One by one.”

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