Page 63 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

It’s not true that I never have a bodyguard with me, but I’m also highly skilled and trained to handle situations. There are times I have men accompany me places, especially when arrangements have been made in advance, and someone might be aware of my schedule. But on impromptu visits like to the ice cream shop, it’s unlikely we’ll be followed.

“I’m not the one with Luka Caruso threatening me,” I say.

That’s not entirely true, but it should be enough of an answer to keep her from asking any further questions.

“I thought you said he wouldn’t bother me anymore,” she quips. She isn’t wrong, that is what I assured her, but it wasn’t because I offed the man. If it were that simple, I’d have put a bullet in his head a decade ago.

“He won’t bother you because you have a bodyguard everywhere that you go,” I say with a sly grin. I open the door to the ice cream shop and escort her into the building.

It’s comfortable inside the shop, the heat is blasting, and I remove my gloves and hat while Olivia does the same.

She hurries up to the counter and gives her order. I follow behind her, picking out my concoction, and pay the attendant. We grab a seat at the table near the back. The place is relatively empty, not that I’m surprised by the weather. I’m more shocked that they’re open.

Taking a bite of her ice cream, she scrunches her nose. The gesture is quite adorable.

“Brain freeze?”

“You would think,” she says with a laugh and shakes her head. “The baby is kicking. Do you want to feel?”

Before I have time to answer, she grabs my hand and places it on her belly.

“Can you feel that?” she asks.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel. Her coat is unbuttoned, but she still has a lot of layers on.

Olivia must sense my frustration as she moves my hand and presses it harder, covering my hand with hers. I feel a slight flutter against my palm. It’s slight, barely noticeable.

I almost wonder if I imagine it, except she’s laughing and grinning.

“Wow.”

“I know, right? It’ll be more noticeable when she starts somersaulting and doing gymnastics, which is what my son did in the last trimester. The kid barely let me sleep.”

“Worse than now?” I ask.

Olivia pins me with her stare. “It’s not the baby keeping me up at night.”

* * *

After dessert, we head back to the compound. We remove our jackets, hats, gloves, and shoes. It’s probably overkill. I’ve lived in colder climates, but I don’t want to chance Olivia catching a cold while pregnant.

I accompany Olivia up to her room. It’s her private sanctuary with a television, bed, easel, and even a mini refrigerator was brought in so that she wouldn’t have to roam around the compound.

That was my doing. It’s best if she doesn’t see what’s going on right in front of her.

And I want her to be happy. She told me she likes to paint, so I made sure to buy her an easel and deliver supplies weekly to her room.

With winter on the cusp, there’s little reason for her to venture into the garden, which means her bedroom is where she spends most of her time.

While we were out grabbing dessert, I texted Vincent to have a massage table brought up to her room but to ensure it was equipped for a pregnant woman.

Olivia needs to relax, and maybe I can help her calm down.

“What’s going on?” she asks as I follow her upstairs. Usually, I give her space and privacy in the compound.

“I have a surprise for you,” I say.

“Did you finish setting up the nursery?” Olivia asks. She’s trying to guess what I might surprise her with, although I’m not sure why the nursery would be a surprise for her.

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