Page 112 of Mafia King's Forbidden Vows

“If it were anyone else,” I cut her off, finally looking her in the eyes, “I would’ve put a bullet in both their head and Mia’s… without hesitation.”

Her lip quivers as tears start to stream down her cheeks. I can see the emotion in her eyes. Confusion and regret...but it’s too late.

“You and your friend must keep your fucking mouths shut. That’s a threat,” I sneer. Unable to bear her tears, I turn my attention to the road. “Now, get out. I never want to see your beautiful-but-fucking-treacherous ass again.”

My peripheral vision catches her shaking her head. Her mouth opens multiple times but she doesn’t say a word. There’s a painful throbbing in my chest as she slowly raises a hand to wipe her tears. “You really want me gone? Fine. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you’re right. I should get out.” Her voice breaks, but she doesn’t stop. “I wouldn’t want my child to grow up in your type of world anyway. Not with a criminal for a father.”

The car goes silent as I immediately yank my head to her. “What did you just say?”

She swallows hard, more tears stinging her eyes. “I’m pregnant,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “And maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me. I don’t want this life for my child. I don’t want you as a father for my child!”

Oh, fuck!She’s carrying my child.

For a moment, my mind goes blank then reality dawns on me. My child!

“Cazzo(Fuck)!You mean all the while you’ve been pregnant?” My voice is trembling with suppressed fury. “You’ve been carrying my child, and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

Her expression is hard as she turns in her seat to stare me in the eyes. “Why would I? What kind of father would you be, Elio? You’re a monster who only knows the way of killing and torture. What do you know about raising a child lovingly?”

Anger swirls in me as I slam my fist into the steering wheel. “Dammit, Aria! It should be my own fucking choice to not want to raise a kid. You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“Well, I’ve already made that decision on behalf of both of us. You and your world are no good for this child. It’s best for them to be without a father than to be with one whose mere existence endangers their life,” she grits, angling her index finger towards me.

Her fingers are tugging at the rings on her ring finger, and before I know it, she throws them directly in my face.Damn!

“It was all fake, anyway,” she spits with tears in her eyes and yanks the door open.

It feels like there’s a knife twisting in my chest.

She pauses and takes one last glance at me, a tear escaping her eyes. Then she gets out and slams the door hard.

I feel the heavy slam in my chest as I watch her go.

Chapter thirty-eight

Aria

Three Months Later

The sizzle of butter frying in the pan fills the quiet of my small apartment, cool evening air drifting in through the open kitchen window. My body moves absently around the small space, stirring the eggs as they cook, my mind drifting back and forth between my old life and the life I’m living now.

It’s been three months since I packed my bags and returned to law school, away from Dad and my best friend.

The loneliness has wrapped itself tightly around my bones now, like an old companion. Some days, I handle it well by filling my hours with school, books, and mindless distractions. On other days, like today, it sits heavier than usual.

A low growl riles my stomach, reminding me that I haven’t eaten much today. I should be taking better care of myself, at least for the baby’s sake, but it’s hard when I feel like I’m doing this all alone.

Mia would have been all over me if she were here. She would have nagged me, forced me to eat properly, and probably dragged me out to some ridiculous yoga class for ‘pregnancy mindfulness’ or whatever new thing she read about pregnancy. But she’s not here.

A sigh escapes my lips. I miss her so much. I miss Dad, too.

He would have bored me to death with stories of what my mom did or didn’t do when she was pregnant with Mario and me.

A small laugh rips past my lips as I picture his wrinkling face immersed in telling the story of his dear, late wife.

And Elio... I wonder what he’d have done. Rubbed my swollen, sore feet? Stopped me from going to work? Carried me all the way to the car just so I didn’t have to use the stairs?

The smile on my face grows bigger as his face comes to mind. I could imagine him rubbing my aching back on days when it cramped up or dashing off to prepare one of my cravings when I suddenly wanted weird stuff.

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