Page 126 of Devil's Tulip

One of my men steps forward to take the burden from me, but I wave him off. This is my responsibility to carry, and I bear it with grim determination as we ascend in the elevator, cross the warehouse floor, and return to my car.

During the drive, I hold the sack between my legs, not giving a damn about the blood stains. They’ll wash out.

The sun is just coming up when we pull up in front of my house.

My men avert their gazes as I throw the sack over my shoulder and carry it inside, up the stairs and into the bedroom I share with Gianna.

She’s pacing the room when I enter, and the second she sees me, her face twists with worry.

“Where have you been? I woke up and you weren’t there, and I’ve been—” Her words die in her throat as she takes in myappearance—the blood on my face, my stained clothes, and the dripping sack slung over my shoulder.

I drop it and spill the gruesome contents across the floor before her. Aldo’s severed head rolls to a stop right at her feet. She recoils in horror, her face draining of all color as she spins away, bolting for the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth.

I frown and follow her, my heart pounding as I find her on her knees, hurling into the toilet. Shit. That wasn’t the reaction I expected.

Quickly, I gather the dismembered limbs back into the sack and place it outside the bedroom door. Then I join her in the bathroom, kneeling beside her hunched form.

“I didn’t realize you’d react like that,” I admit softly, rubbing circles on her back as she heaves. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll deliver the limbs and pieces of anybody who dares to hurt you—no matter who they are.”

She gags over the toilet bowl for several more seconds before slowly raising her head to look at me. What I see in her eyes isn’t gratitude or even relief—it’s fear. “I think–I think I might be pregnant, Michael,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

For a second, I’m stunned, just staring at her, my brain struggling to process her words. Then a wild, uncontainable joy rushes through me. Holy shit. I didn’t realize this night could get any better, but apparently it could,it could.

She must mistake my silence for anger, because she rushes to explain, “I don’t know how this could have happened,” she sobs, hitting the side of the toilet bowl in frustration. “I took my pills religiously, I–”

“What pills?” I interrupt her sharply, though I know exactly what pills she’s talking about. The placebo I substituted for her real birth control, a decision I’d almost forgotten in the chaos of the recent events.

She actually took them?

She hesitates, biting her lip. “Just… pills. And I know you meant well, Michael, but you can’t just bring people’s bloodied head and body parts into our bedroom—no matter what they’ve done. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

She’s changing the subject. But I let her, giving her a short nod. “I’m never letting anybody get close enough to hurt you or our baby,” I promise fiercely as my gaze drops to her still-flat belly.I’m going to be a father.

38

GIANNA

I’m still not sure how I could get pregnant while on the birth control pill, so I keep telling myself I’m just overreacting. I mean, I know no means of birth control is foolproof—the damn pamphlet even says 99.9% effective, not 100%—but still.

Just because I missed my period for a few months doesn’t mean anything, right? And sure, I’ve been feeling nauseous since last night, but that could just be from seeing my uncle’s limbs scattered across the floor. Pretty sure that would make anyone sick. It’s not like it’s automatically a pregnancy symptom. Oh, and stress can make you feel sick too. And God knows I’ve been through a whole lot of that lately.

After Michael gets over his initial shock, he’s downright giddy and insists we go to the hospital right away to confirm it. While he rushes through a shower and gets dressed, my heart thumps nervously, and I chew my nails as I pace.

When he exits the walk-in closet, he looks every inch the billionaire businessman again—sharp, put-together, not a trace of the psychopathic mafia killer who barged in here earlier, face and clothes stained with blood as he spilled my uncle’s limbs in front of me like some sort of exotic present.

Good riddance to him.I’ve gone through enough grief and heartache because of him.

“Ready?” Michael asks as he walks towards me, taking me in with a frown. “Are you not getting dressed?”

“I’m comfortable this way,” I mumble, tugging at the hem of my shirt. The truth is I’m too paralyzed with fear to bother changing. Plus, if I’m honest, there’s a little bit of hope creeping in too. Idowant children, but I didn’t think either Michael or I were ready for that responsibility, which is why I took those pills so religiously.

But now that there’s a possibility of there being a child—our child—I realize a tiny part of me underneath all my fear wants it.

Heart pounding like crazy, I follow him out of the bedroom, quickly averting my gaze from the sack leaking blood by the door. Michael notices my reaction immediately. “It won’t be here when we get back,” he assures me, his fingers already dancing across his phone screen, undoubtedly ordering some poor soul to dispose of my uncle’s remains.

We head out to the car, and three more cars fall in line behind us as we pull out of his compound. I’m not sure where he's taking me, and quite frankly, I don’t care and can barely make out the landmarks on the road, too lost in my swirling thoughts. So I’m a little surprised when he pulls up in front of a hospital with the name Gianna’s Hospital emblazoned across the front in elegant lettering.

Even though the building seems newer and modern, I can recognize the bones of the structure as the hospital he got for me. The one we visited—was it only a week ago? Time always seems to fly when I’m with Michael. He had it renamed after me?

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