Page 60 of Beauty and the Daddy
The bodyguard nods. "Boss says be back by four."
"Sure." I smile and wave, already striding off.
"I'm calling Giovanni," he shouts behind me. "He'll be waiting downstairs."
"Uh-huh." I don't bother looking back, wincing as I do. So… making a run for it clearly isn't the option.
Now, all I have to do is slip some wool over Giovanni's eyes. After all, he doesn't sound like the kind of chauffeur to hold my hand through a pregnancy test.
I walk, trying not to think about how I'm a couple of hours away from learning I might be pregnant. God, that thought makes me dizzy.
By the time I see Giovanni, I'm already plotting how to ditch the poor chauffeur before he even opens the car door.
"Where to first, Miss Belle?" he asks as I slip inside.
"I'd like to see the Trevi Fountain, please." I paste on a smile that screamsgood little girl.
Crowds make it easier to slip away.
Rome rolls by like it's strutting for me. Ruins, glass, scooters playing chicken with cars—everything dipped in that smug morning gold. On a normal day, I'd be swooning.
But today, I'm counting blocks, looking for pharmacies, for clinics, for any sign that might say "medical services."
"First time in Rome?" Giovanni asks.
"Yes," I say, then realize I can use this. "I'm actually feeling a little overwhelmed. There's so much to see, and I'm not feeling great. Maybe we could find a little café? I need to eat something to help with my… cramps. That time of the month, you know?"
Giovanni clears his throat, embarrassed as hell. "Of course, Miss Belle. There is one near the fountain."
Men are so predictable.
The Fountain is exactly as crowded as I'd hoped. Tourists pack the area, taking selfies and tossing coins into the water.
"I'll wait in the car, Miss Belle," Giovanni says and points. "The café is just there."
"Great, thanks. I'll be right back."
I head toward the cafe but veer off as soon as I'm out of Giovanni's line of sight.
The city hums around me, alive and messy. Streets packed with honking scooters, couples holding hands, vendors yelling about fresh fruit. It's almost enough to make me forget the brick of dread in my stomach. Almost.
It takes me three wrong turns and a panicky ten minutes of pretending I'm not lost before I finally find a little clinic that'll do the trick. Plain white walls, a peeling sign, nothing flashy. Exactly what I need.
My palms are damp when I push through the door.
The waiting room feels like fear itself.
A couple of women sit in plastic chairs, flipping through outdated magazines. A nurse at the desk barely looks up when I mumble my name and request.
It's all so… normal. Which somehow makes it worse.
Because nothing about this is normal. Not me. Not my life. Not the fact that I'm in here waiting to find out if I'm about to addmobster's baby mamato my résumé.
I jiggle my foot, biting my lip until it almost bleeds. My brain won't shut up.
Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's jet lag. Maybe it's the fact that you fucked said mobster till past your bedtime.
But it's also been a month since my period showed up. Like… a whole damn month and more.
