Page 105 of One Secret

'Lack of trust is what we're here to correct, isn't it?' I prompt, resting my head on an upturned hand as I lean back against the cushions. I keep my body language open and unafraid. 'Your condition?'

Shit, isn't pregnancy known as the "delicate condition"? My mind races through everything we've been doing on the island. The heated moments, the intense ones... then there's the stress of staying in a hotel full of thugs… me wrestling her into that chair…

Felix sighs through his nose.

'For an Italian, you are very terse when it comes to getting down to the business of a matter.'

'I'm not Italian.'

'No?' Caruso's brows rise in surprise. 'I didn't know that.'

'No reason you should...' I don't deliberately hide my personal details from the world. But having no one to share them with tends to naturally keep things from the public eye. 'Suffice it to say I have no loyalties in general. Patriotism included.'

No loyalties... what about to a kid, huh Alesi? To your blood kin? Would you be loyal to them?

'And yet you want me to believe in your loyalty to me,' Felix sneers.

'No.' I shake my head and Caruso tenses on his side of the boat. Shit, one wrong move here and I'll have a gun leveled at my head. 'As I've said from the beginning, I work independently. I'll be no more loyal to you than any other client. What I would like you to trust is my professionalism. I don't cross wires and I don't play both sides. My discretion lies with those who sign my payslip.'

'Ah, devout only to the great dollar...' Felix muses.

I raise a sardonic eyebrow.

'When you have nothing else...' I shrug.

Nothing else... Does that still hold true, now?

Felix makes that nose-sigh of his again and scans the marina. The masts of a dozen sailing boats and larger yachts reach for the sky. Like spindly, winter-stripped trees. The lapping of the water against the hull is slow and rhythmic. It should be soothing but it just reminds me of the movie Jaws.

Making my own assessment of the area, I spot Ramirez and Rocco whispering together on the pier. Rocco is smiling with a carefree shrug to his posture. The mercenary, on the other hand, has eyes bright with intrigue.

I tense, sensing danger.

'All right,' Felix finally surrenders, drawing my focus again. 'Then I suppose what I'm about to ask of you is less about proving your allegiance to me and more about confirming that you're no longer in league with the Machellis.'

'I've told you that I'm not.'

'And you're smart enough to know that I would never accept your word on the matter, I'm sure.' Felix's silver tongue spins a merry dance. 'Do this one thing for me and I'll trust you enough to put you on the payroll. Forever if you wish.'

I'm so damn tired of this charade.

Screw the Carusos. Screw Gabriel.

All I want to do is get back to the hotel. Hell, to get back to Rome. Preferably with Darcy, bundled in bubble wrap and dragged in tow if need be.

I want her back at her place. No, at my place. The apartment I keep to the south of the city is little more than an empty storage space with a bedframe and a coffee machine. But it's an address that won't flag on any search; somewhere we can sit and talk about all of this.

"...my future kid laughs in the face of our precautions."

My future kid.

Not our future kid.

I suddenly feel like Felix's mega yacht—his beautiful Golden Princess—is sinking. Just sliding right out from under my ass and dragging me beneath the waves.

Why didn't it dawn on me before?

Darcy knew about her pregnancy before we came here. Before we got on that plane.

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