24. Amara
AMARA
CHOOSE ME OR KILL ME
W hen Pietro’s fist hit the desk, I flinched, and something in my gut twisted. For the first time, I see what doubt looks like—and he’s wearing it on his handsome face. I’ve committed every contour of that face to memory, so I know.
He has every right to question his judgment. After all, I’m the enemy’s daughter.
Perhaps my father is getting some perverted satisfaction knowing I’m in the enemy’s camp.
My father is a sadistic son of a bitch. I mean, it is a perfect revenge plot to let your enemy fall in love with your daughter and then rip her away.
Pietro sits across from me with distrust in his eyes. I don’t want him to look at me that way, like I failed him.
God help me, I love him with all my heart. I hope one day he will understand what I’m about to do.
I have to marry Vukan to save his life.
I’ve been befriending Luca, hoping to build his trust. He’s handsome, but nowhere near Pietro’s chiseled chin and unforgettable good looks.
He’s friendly and young. And this is why I hope he’ll be easy to distract.
I will slip out of the penthouse, and with any luck, it won’t be immediately discovered .
Pietro and I close the club and climb into the Hummer. I glance out the window and see not one but two black SUVs on the street. Even though the streetlights are dim, they cast a shadow on Elio, and I can see the gun in his hand.
He’s sending me a message. The clock is ticking.
I hold my breath, hoping they won’t shoot Pietro. He lets us pass, and I turn in the seat to see if he’s following us, but I can’t tell. I’m sure Joseph has an eye out for that sort of thing, and if discovered, it would tip the Borrellis off as to their plans.
Even I know the element of surprise is an advantage in war.
The mood inside the vehicle as we ride to the penthouse is morose. The air is thick with something foul—the stench of a dying relationship.
It seems my fairy tale has ended abruptly.
I’m cranky and hormonal. I feel like crying one minute and happy the next. It’s unnerving and can only mean one thing.
I’m pregnant.
I can’t get a test without alerting Pietro. How do I feel about this? I don’t have the luxury of time to contemplate my feelings because I’m worried about how I can pass the baby off as Vukan’s.
We arrive home, and I slip into the penthouse and head to the bathroom to undress.
I’m eyeing the antique clawfoot tub. The bathroom counter around my sink is filled with the expensive makeup Pietro insisted on buying for me.
I want to cry when I eye the raspberry bath bombs that sit on the bathtub tray.
He’s been nothing but thoughtful and generous.
Pietro plays Italian music as I run the bath.
When the water is warm and the tub is filled, I slip into the warm abyss.
I find it relaxing, or perhaps it’s comforting because it is a part of our routine—Pietro and his music and me, having time to myself.
I never had time to do this when I worked two jobs.
After twenty minutes of sulking, I step out and pull out the plush bath towel around me. I’m blotting the water that clings to my body when the door is flung open, hitting the doorstop. I’m startled as Pietro storms in .
“You’re pregnant.” His eyes flash at me, accusing me of this apparent infraction, and I’m speechless. Damn him, and his uncanny memory. He remembers my routine, and he knows I love to eat everything he sets before me.
“What do you mean?” I try to dissuade him, but I know it’s useless. He’s as cunning as a fox, and he has the memory of an elephant.
He grabs my arm. “We’ve been together for weeks, and we have sex every day. You’ve never had a period.”
“What if that’s normal?”
His face contorted into a look I’d never witnessed.
“You’re lying. You did this on purpose. Did your father put you up to it?” he sneers.
“We’ve had a ton of sex, Pietro. If you have enough sex, it’s going to happen eventually.
What did you expect?” Never mind the fact that he knows who my father is, and he never mentioned it to me.
I didn’t plan to get pregnant, but then again, I’m not the best at remembering to take the pill.
It was never important before because I wasn’t seeing anyone.
“I didn’t expect this! I expected you to be responsible and tell me you weren’t taking your birth control. But you can’t do that. Can you?” His angry voice ricochets off the tiled wall.
“That’s easy for you to say. You have the perfect family. You didn’t grow up in my family. You didn’t get hit whenever your father was in a bad mood.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You know the large Borrelli tattoo on my back?
It’s to cover up scars from a beating my father gave me.
He used a belt and beat me within an inch of my life.
He did it because I let my sister beat me in a race so she would be happy.
He said it showed I was weak, and he wouldn’t have a weak son.
So don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like,” he shouts.
I’m surprised and shaken by his confession. He shared a piece of his past with me. A past that has molded him into the man he is today.
My face is wet as fresh tears stream down my face. I never knew we had fathers from hell in common .
And that makes the pain for what I’m about to do make me feel even worse.
“You don’t get a say. I’ll handle it. I’ll do it all,” I shout back.
Then he roughly pulls me into his chest, and the towel slips through my fingers.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I won’t abandon my child. I won’t be tricked into marrying you, but the baby is a part of my life. You’ll remain here, under my protection.”
“No, I’ll live at my place.” I push on his chest to get away, but his arms act as vise grips. I’m inexplicably trapped in a forced proximity arrangement because of the baby and the fact that he refuses to let me go.
I’m dazed by how quickly he dismisses me. I’ve ceased to exist to him, and it pains me that the baby is the only reason for me being here.
“Once a Moretti, always a Moretti. You might have changed your name, but you’re a Moretti to the core.
” His breath is warm on my cheek, but his accusatory tone hurts.
If he knew me at all, he’d know that’s not me.
Doesn’t he understand I gave everything up to get away from my family?
“Did you know I owned the club? You must have known who I was the night we met. It all makes sense now. The way you looked at me like I was yours. It was one elaborate setup!”
“You know, I didn’t know who you were. I was as shocked as you when I saw you at work.”
He flicks me away from him as if I burned his hands, and he leaves me standing naked in the bathroom that’s larger than my apartment.
My father was right about him. I gulp down my disappointment. I use the back of my hand to wipe my face. I refuse to cry over him. He’s not worthy of the tears. He’s not worthy of me for either.
He’s like every man I’ve ever known. They either want something from me or they hurt me. Pietro is guilty of both.
I’ve become a human incubator.
What does it matter anyway? My time is running out.
I knew this was too good to last.
He storms out, and I dry myself as I slip Pietro’s shirt over my head, take a deep breath. The disappointment in his eyes hurts. I sniff his shirt and inhale his expensive cologne that mingles with his scent. It’s a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost.
I crawl into bed, and the silent tears fall on my pillow, and somewhere in the night, he slips into bed beside me. His back is turned to me, and it drives home the fact that I’ve lost him. He doesn’t trust me. Now, I lie awake and worry over what will become of me and my baby.
In the morning, the bed is empty, and I find a pregnancy kit in the bathroom.
I don’t want to take the test. He’ll take a perverse pleasure in me following his orders, and I don’t owe him anything after last night.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of making decisions on my behalf.
But there’s a part of me that wants to know for sure. So I open one test, and pee on it. I wait and run water in case Pietro is waiting for a sign. I took the test.
Two blue lines appear, and an animated baby dances.
I’m filled with mixed emotions. I close the lid to make the box look full and hide my results in the towels stacked along the wall.
I wash my face and exit the bathroom like nothing happened.
Pietro is in the kitchen with a coffee cup in his hands. The smell of food makes me nauseous.
“Eat,” he barks. No good morning, no hello.
It’s back to his orders and what he wants.
Fuck that.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“If I eat, I’ll throw up. Besides, you’re not the boss of me!” I stand defiantly, but I know he can overpower me in an instant.
“Fine. I’ll let it pass for now. Did you take the test?”
“No.” I lie.
“I have a right to know,” he states, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You gave that up last night. You don’t want me or this baby.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says as his eyes flash. I know that look, and I flinch as if he’ll strike me. “I very much want this baby. I wanted a family with you before I learned that you’re only here as a means to an end. What did you plan to accomplish by bedding me, Amara?”
“There was no plan. I ran from my father, he made demands I refused to meet.”
“I find that hard to believe. You’ve been living with me for two months. It’s more than enough time to set up a plan. What does he want with me?”
“Nothing. He wants me,” I murmur. Why does it matter? We’re over. There’s no point in arguing.
I’m ruined.
And soon… I’ll be wed into a family of monsters.
Not the kind that hide beneath beds, but the ones who sit at gilded tables, drink from crystal, and bleed ruthlessly in the name of power. My future is carved by fate and sealed with blood. There is no escape.
The echo of who I used to be will become a faded memory, replaced by the woman I’m destined to become.