Page 40 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
“I need time,” I say finally, my voice trembling. “To process all of this.”
Luca nods, his expression going blank. “Take all the time you need.”
As he steps back, giving me space, I realize how much everything has shifted. The lines between us, once so clear, are now hopelessly blurred. He turns to leave the clinic. “Rest, Valentina. I’ll have food sent here.”
I close my eyes, letting the exhaustion pull me under. But even as sleep claims me, one thought lingers. This child changes everything. And yet, it might not change anything at all.
16
VALENTINA
I’m cleared to leave the clinic. Luca’s hand rests on the small of my back as we walk out. Luca doesn’t say much, though I catch him glancing at me a few times, his expression unreadable. My fingers twist in my lap, and I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, steady and sure. It’s infuriating and comforting all at once.
By the time we get to the main estate, I’ve convinced myself to ask for some time alone. When we step into the grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming as though nothing has ever dared disturb this fortress, I turn to him. I know the suite upstairs is being cleaned right now.
“I need a room to myself,” I say, my voice firmer than I expected. “Just for a little while.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he nods. “The family study is yours. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”
From a man like Luca who’s so prone to possessiveness, that’s practically poetry. He doesn’t argue or pry, just gestures toward the hallway that leads to the study. As I make my way there, I can feel his eyes on my back, and the sensation is as heavy as the silence that stretches between us.
The study is rich, warm, and wonderfully empty. As I sink into the leather armchair near the fireplace, I feel an odd flicker of peace. The family dog, a sleek Doberman with intelligent eyes, pads over to me and rests his head on my knee. His soft brown gaze is as disarming as his master’s, and I find myself scratching behind his ears almost absently. He exhales in contentment, and for a moment, it’s just me, the dog, and the crackle of the fire.
But the quiet doesn’t last. My thoughts churn with a ferocity I can’t escape.
I didn’t want to run. That was the truth. But now I’m pregnant, and the stakes are no longer just mine to bear. My child will grow up in a house with bulletproof windows and armed guards, in a world where enemies don’t just lurk in shadows, they fire guns from them. A child here is an easy target, a pawn in a game of power and revenge. The thought sends a chill down my spine.
My stomach churns. It’s been a while since I ate anything, so I ring a bell and ask to have some soup and bread delivered to the study. When the food arrives, the first few bites are pure bliss. The soup is perfectly savory, the bread crusty and warm. But once I’m halfway through, a fresh wave of nausea hits.
I wrap my arms around myself, as if I can shield the life growing inside me from all of this. But I can’t even shield myself.
A long while later, the door creaks open, and Luca steps in, his gaze finding me immediately. He looks so utterly out of place in this moment of my vulnerability, like a thunderstorm cutting through a fragile spring morning. His presence fills the room, but it’s the way his eyes soften slightly when they land on me that undoes me.
“You should eat more,” he says simply, nodding toward the untouched bowl of soup. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing all right.”
I lift the spoon but can’t bring myself to taste it. “I’m fine,” I murmur.
He crosses the room, standing just a breath away. His fingers brush my chin, tilting it up so our eyes meet. “You don’t look fine.”
I want to tell him I’m drowning in my own thoughts, that the walls of this house feel like they’re closing in on me. But the words stick in my throat. Before I can speak, his phone buzzes. He pulls it from his pocket with a slight frown. “Excuse me,” he says, and steps into the hallway.
The door closes softly behind him, and the stillness he leaves feels like a void. My hand drifts to my stomach, trembling slightly. I’m terrified, yes. But I’m also…unsure. Luca has proven he can be more than ruthless. He’s shown me glimpses of a man who cares deeply, who protects what’s his with unwavering loyalty. Could that be enough? Could I trust him to be the father my child deserves?
The door opens again. Luca reenters, lost in thought. I watch the lines on his face. His eyes catch mine, and there’s something different about them. There’s a glint of knowing, of resolve.
“Do you know who sent you the basket of fruit and bread this morning?” he asks, his tone steady but laced with something sharp.
My heart lurches. “No,” I manage, though my voice wavers. “Is everything all right?”
He sighs, stepping closer. “You’ll have to find better ways to escape, Valentina. Ways that don’t involve you getting violently sick.”
The blood drains from my face. “Luca, I didn’t?—”
“Dante tried some of the fruit,” he interrupts, his tone gentler than I expect. “He’s not well.”
A crushing wave of guilt washes over me. “I didn’t know,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
His gaze softens just slightly, though his jaw remains tight. “Then make sure you know next time.”
