Page 91 of Bloody Vows
A white plastic stick with a small window, two pink lines clear and bright in the center of it.
My wife is pregnant.
23
TRISTAN
Ican’t stop staring at the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, a reality that feels hard to fathom right now. My wife is pregnant. With my child. The heir I've been working toward, the final piece of the puzzle that will cement my position as a new, legitimate power in Miami.
I should be celebrating. This is exactly what I wanted, what I needed to happen. A child will make our marriage unbreakable, will give me an unquestioned right to what I’ve claimed as my own. No one will be able to challenge my claim to the Russo territory when there's a baby on the way, when the bloodlines are officially merged.
So why do I feel like the walls are closing in around me? Like this is all happening too fast?
Simone straightens slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her dark eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I see a flash of vulnerability there before she schools her expression into something more neutral. She's waiting for my reaction, and I realize I've been standing here like a statue for too long.
"How long have you known?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended, and I clear my throat.
"I just found out." She gestures weakly toward the test. "I've been feeling sick for a few days, but I thought it was just stress. Everything that's been happening with Sal and Enzo..."
She trails off, and I nod. I can’t seem to find the right words. This is the last thing I expected to find when I came stalking into her bedroom.
“You’re pregnant,” I say the words out loud, as if that might make it seem more real. Simone looks at me narrowly.
“That’s what happens when you come inside me repeatedly,” she says coolly, and despite everything, I feel my cock twitch at the thought. I’d been planning to come inside her shortly. In fact, my plan had been to be deep inside of her right now, trying to ease the ache that she’s created in me since the first day I saw her.
Instead, I’m standing here feeling like a fool as I look from her to the test and back again.
"Are you..." I start to ask if she's okay, but the words stick in my throat. Since when do I ask my wife how she's feeling? Since when do I care about anything beyond what she can give me?
What has this woman done to me?
"I'm fine," she says, though she doesn't look fine. She looks pale and shaken, and there are dark circles under her eyes that I hadn't noticed before. "Just morning sickness, I guess. Sorry you had to see that."
Her voice is impossibly cool, almost chilly. She’s throwing up walls that I should be trying to pull down before they can be built right now. I should go to her. I should pull her into my arms, tell her that everything's going to be okay, that I'll protect her and our child. That's what a husband would do, what a man who cares about his wife would do.
Instead, I take a step back.
"Good," I say, and the word comes out clipped and businesslike. "This is good. It's what we needed."
Something flickers across her face, hurt maybe, but it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it. She nods, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Right. What you needed." Her voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the emphasis on 'you' and it hits me like a punch to the gut.
"What we needed," I correct, but it sounds hollow even to my ears.
She doesn't respond, just moves past me toward the bedroom. I watch her go, noting the way she holds herself stiffly, like she's trying not to touch me even accidentally. The distance between us feels like a chasm, and I don't know how to bridge it without admitting things I'm not ready to admit. Without apologizing, which is something I never learned how to do.
Maybe my father should have taught me something about that,I think bitterly. The idea is ludicrous. My father has probably never apologized to anyone in his life. Certainly not his children.
This changes everything. Now there's not just Simone to protect, but our child. The heir that will carry on the legacy I've fought so hard to claim. I can't afford to be weak now, can't afford to let my feelings cloud my judgment. I need to pull back. I need to remember what this marriage is really about.
Power. Control. Keeping what I’ve claimed—both my territory and her. Sal and Enzo threaten that, and Simone played her own part in making all of this worse.
I need to think clearly. I need to be the man I was raised to be, a brutal and capable man who can hold onto this empire and keep his wife and child safe, not someone lost in a sea of desire and emotion.
I tell myself that running from this feeling isn’t cowardice. It’s just me doing my best to protect what’s mine.
The next few days pass in a blur of tension and careful distance between Simone and me, as much on her part as mine. I throw myself into work, spending long hours in meetings with Konstantin and my father, planning our next moves against Sal and his remaining allies. The threats against us are real and growing, and I use that as an excuse to avoid spending time alone with Simone.
