Page 88 of Bittersweet Endings
I did that. I told her I’d hoped I’d knocked her up and made her a goddamn disgrace. A promise I’d kept but one I never really meant to make come to fruition.
Fuck, I was screwed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OCTAVIA AGOSTINO
Carmine left without a word.
I couldn’t bring myself to move, not at first. The silence that followed felt suffocating, and I was drowning in my pain. My fingers clutched the edge of the counter, the pregnancy test still in my hand after he’d dropped it. As if it could somehow tug me back from the downward spiral my misery was pulling me into.
I didn’t know what I’d expected when he saw that test. That tiny sliver of hope had flickered inside me. It wasn’t about the baby, not exactly. It was about the possibility thatwecould survive our families and create our own. It was about Carmine confessing that he loved me.
Instead, it went to hell really fast.
He’d shut down, like a door slamming in my face. The look he gave me—that cold, hard look—was something I wouldn’t forget. It was different from the look he’d given me when he’d returned me to my family.
There was no fire, no desire, no emotion. And it was like agoddamn stab through the heart. I meant what I said. With or without him, I’d be fine. It just hurt like a bitch to realize he’d turned his back on me. On this baby. And on us for the last time.
***
My phone kept ringing. Matteo. Lucky. Pops. Sienna. Even Marco and Lorenzo. But never Carmine. I couldn’t talk to my family about us. If they knew about the baby and Carmine’s dismissal, the tentative peace would end.
I let the phone ring until it went silent. And then there was nothing. Just the emptiness of the apartment, of my own thoughts, swirling around me. My chest ached, a constant dull pain that didn’t fade. In fact, I didn’t want it to. It had been days since he’d left. I wanted—needed—to feel something.
I should’ve known better than to believe I could have a shred of happiness. Should’ve known better than to think that maybe I could have something more for myself.
I could feel it creeping in. The doubt. The familiar loneliness that had spent years eating away at me. And all I could do was sit at home, wishing for something that had never been real.
The sadness eventually turned to anger. At him. At myself. At this poor baby, who wouldn’t understand that they’d been born into a world few survived. Even though I’d be damned if I let anyone hurt what was mine.
The rage inside me was a fire that burned too hot to ignore. I could feel it bubbling, about to explode. My hands shook as I tried holding on to the book I was clutching. I couldn’t focus on the words, lost to the insanity in my head. I screamed as I threw it across the room, watching it slam against the wall.
He wanted to run? Fine. Let him.But I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him. I needed to do something. Anything.
I stormed into the bathroom, throwing my clothes off and stepping into the shower. The hot water burned my skin. I wantedit to erase the memory of him. To ease the tension in my muscles and the pounding in my head.
Afterwards, I changed into something simple but sexy. I was taking back my control. No more games. No more waiting.
I grabbed my phone and ordered Rocco to pull the car around and to find me a private jet to California. I wasn’t going to let this go. Not now. Not after everything we’d been through. I had no idea what I expected from him, but something told me I needed to do this.
I walked out of the apartment and into the hallway, my heart racing with each step I took towards the car waiting downstairs. But just as I was about to stroll through the building’s front door, I froze.
Because there he was. Carmine. Standing in front of the car. His posture was different. Tension replacing the usual confidence. His jeans were gone, while the fitted suit screamed power. The fine Italian threads were made for a Capo. His dark hair was slicked back, and the sharp lines of his face made it clear he wasn’t here to apologize.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You left. Which means you have no right to ask that, Carmine,” I snapped.
His lips twisted into a smirk, that familiar glint of amusement flashing in his dark eyes. As he took a step closer to me, I had to fight the urge to step back. “You know, for such a dainty little doll, you sure have a temper,” he teased, like he found my anger almost... endearing.
I didn’t take the bait. My hands were clenched into fists. The anger hadn’t subsided. If anything, it had intensified. “Fuck off, Carmine,” I scoffed.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s no way to talk to your Capo.”
I stood taller, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’re not my Capo. Now, go back to your side of the country. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”
His expression didn’t change, but the air around us did. He took another step forward, closing the distance between us. “I can’t,” he said, his words cutting through the silence. “Not without you.”
