33. Ginevra
33
GINEVRA
I sit in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest.
This isn’t happening. It can’t be.
But the two lines are there, staring right back at me. I blink once, twice, hoping they’ll disappear, but they don’t. A shaky exhale leaves my lips at the reality.
I’m pregnant.
One hand clutches the edge of the bathtub till my knuckles turn white. My mind spins without stopping. The second hand drifts to my stomach, and I feel a certain weight I hadn’t felt before.
A small sliver of excitement slips in, mixing with the fear swirling inside me. A baby...a life is inside me. I rub my stomach again, feeling my chest swell. We created this child—Dario and I. We made life together.
Except... this wasn’t part of the plan.
The sinking feeling returns, this time, deeper and darker than the last. I’m not ready for a baby. Heck! I’m not ready to be a mother. How can I be? I’ve barely figured life out. I’ve barely figured out exactly what my relationship with Dario is. Is it just a sham? The meticulous revenge plan Dario thought out? A business deal? Or is it real—what we feel for each other? What I feel for him?
When Dario told me he loved me a few nights ago, I froze. Those were the words I’d been waiting to hear, the words I’d wanted to tell him, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. How can I be sure that he truly loves me? How can I be sure this isn’t part of his twisted plan? To get me to fall for him, then break my heart...
You watch too many daytime soap operas, Ginny.
The plastic test kit clatters to the floor as I bury my hands in my hair, a groan slipping out of my lips.
Dario and I are supposed to be getting married in a week, and I can’t even figure anything out. I don’t know if I should be happy about this baby or not. I don’t know if I should tell Dario... what I should tell Dario.
You have to tell him.
My hands tremble as I pick up the test from the floor and set it down on the sink beside the tub. No matter how I feel about this, I should at least give Dario the chance to know he could be a father.
I could tell him immediately, but he’s been away on a business trip for three days now, unreachable until tomorrow. But even when I can reach him, this isn’t exactly something I’d tell him over the phone. I have to tell him in person.
My chest tightens, almost to the point where I can’t breathe. I stand quickly, needing air, needing to move. The bathroom feels too small, too close. As I rush out, walking into the room, I hear a soft bark.
Piper—I’ve named her already—jumps up and down, her tail wagging in excitement. I know she wants to play, but I’m unfortunately not in the mood for that. As I head out of the room and down the stairs toward the kitchen, she runs after me, hot on my heels as my bare feet slap against the cold marble floor.
The sun is just starting to rise, casting a soft golden light through the large windows of the house. Everything looks so peaceful, so normal, but inside me, it feels as if a storm is raging, like a bomb seconds away from exploding.
The kitchen is empty when I step inside. Relieved, I exhale softly. Even if it’s just for a moment, I need to be alone. I need to sit in my thoughts.
I grab a carton of eggs from the fridge and set a pan on the stove. Maybe some food will settle me, help me think more clearly. I add a little butter to the pan, watching it sizzle and dissolve. But as soon as I crack one egg into the pan, the smell hits me, and my stomach churns violently. I clamp a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
“Ginny, querida , what’s wrong?”
I turn to see Rosa standing in the doorway, her kind eyes full of concern. Piper rushes toward her, and Rosa smiles briefly, carrying the dog into her arms.
“I’m fine, Rosa,” I say, my voice shaky as I turn off the stove. “Just...I don’t feel great this morning.”
Rosa steps closer, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Not feeling great, hmm?” She trails off, her eyes narrowing.
I stiffen. Fuck. Can she tell? I know older women can often tell about stuff like this, but I would be more at ease if no one else knows about my pregnancy for now.
“You’re looking a little pale, Ginny. Maybe you’ve caught something.”
I exhale, avoiding her eyes. I don’t think she suspects I’m pregnant. God! I hope not.
“I don’t think so,” I say quickly, but Rosa just raises an eyebrow, not convinced.
She steps closer, touching the back of her hand to my forehead. “Hmm, no fever. A stomach bug, maybe? You’ve been looking off for a couple of days now. Maybe it’s because Dario hasn’t been home.” Her voice turns playful and teasing, but I feel my heart race at the mention of his name.
I force a laugh. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”
Piper makes a whining sound. I absentmindedly reach out to rub her fur.
“You should have waited for me to make you breakfast,” Rosa chastises like she always does when she’s in full caretaker mode. “Go and lie down. Get some rest. I’ll make you some tea later. Do you want some cakes with it?
My heart softens slightly as I nod. She’s observed me to the point of knowing the things I like.
“Thanks, Rosa,” I sigh, thankful for the escape.
“Come on, Piper. I know you’re hungry too,” I hear Rosa coo as I walk out of the kitchen.
As I head upstairs, I walk straight to Dario’s room without thinking. I may be unsure of what I should feel about him, but one thing I know is that being in his room right now, inhaling his scent and just imagining him with me, will make me feel better.
Or not.
When I collapse into his bed and pull the covers up to my chin, I try to follow Rosa’s advice, but sleep won’t come. My mind is too restless, my thoughts too loud.
I keep thinking about Dario. What if he doesn’t want this baby? What if it’s too much for him? For us? And what about the wedding?
I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position. The silk sheets feel cool against my skin, not the warmth I wanted. His faint scent lingers in the air, not enough to fill my lungs.
The door creaks open minutes later, and Rosa walks in with a tray in her hand and a smile on her lips.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
“Where’s Piper?” I ask weakly as she sets the tray down on the bedside drawer.
“She’s eating.” Rosa smiles before patting my head lovingly. I’m glad when she leaves me alone.
I drown most of the scorching tea almost immediately before taking a few nibbles out of the cake. I know I should eat more for the baby, but I don’t think I can stomach anything more than that.
I lie back against the sheets and close my eyes. My thoughts won’t quiet down, and the bed feels too big, too empty. I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest, staring at the empty space beside me where Dario should be. I can’t do this. I can’t just sit here and mope around all day. I need to move. I need to clear my head.
I swing my legs off the bed, walking over to the dresser where Dario keeps his things. My eyes land on one of his car keys, and before I can second-guess myself, I grab them.
Dario no longer keeps me prisoner in the house, and I’m free to go out, so long as I’m escorted. I know I should call Timoteo to drive me, but I don’t want anyone with me right now. I just want to be alone.
I change into a simple, casual outfit—a pair of washed jeans, a graphic tee, and my favorite sneakers—before heading down the stairs.
“I’m heading out,” I yell toward Rosa, who is still in the kitchen. I hear Piper bark as Rosa turns to say something, but I don’t wait to listen.
As I slip out of the house, the crisp morning air hits my face. Dario would probably lose his mind if he knew I was going out alone, but I’ll deal with that when he returns.
I get into Dario’s Maybach, the familiar scent of leather and his cologne filling the air. It’s comforting, making me breathe easier. I grip the steering wheel tightly as I pull out of the gates, my thoughts still a jumbled mess.
Without realizing it, I find myself driving toward the old building I once dreamed of owning. It’s the one thing I wanted to build for myself—my escape from everything else in my life.
I park the car across the street and get out, staring at the building from the sidewalk. It still looks the same. Tall, white, empty.
I’m surprised to find it still in this state. I know Dario purchased the property, and I’d assumed he would have sold it by now since he has no use for it.
I step closer, running my fingers along the brick wall. I can almost see it—what it could have been. The smell of fresh bread wafting through the air, the display of mouthwatering pastries, the quiet hum of conversation. A place where people would come to feel at home.
I can’t resist. I push open the door and step inside. The smell of dust lingers in the cold and empty space. I feel a pang of sadness, thinking about how close I came to making this place mine. But it was snatched up by none other than my husband-to-be.
I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn to see the landlord, Mr. Jenkins, coming through the back door. His eyes widen when he sees me.
“Ginny! I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, wiping his hands on his shirt. “What brings you here?”
I force a smile on my lips.
“I just...wanted to see the place again,” I say, my voice faltering. “I didn’t know it was still available.”
He raises an eyebrow, chuckling. “Available? Didn’t Mr. De Luca tell you? This building is yours.”
Huh?
“What do you mean it’s mine?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat.
Mr. Jenkins smiles softly. “Mr. De Luca bought it for you. He transferred everything into your name the day after...” He hesitates, as if realizing he’s about to bring up something sensitive. “The day after the...uh, well, he told me you were in an accident.”
I think back to when this must have been, and then it clicks. The kidnapping. I swallow hard, memories of that day flooding back.
“He really did that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“He did. Paid for the renovations, too. Said he wanted it ready for you whenever you decided you were ready.”
My breath hooks in my throat. He bought it? And never told me? Why would he do that?
“He didn’t mention it?” Mr. Jenkins asks, mirroring my exact thought.
I shake my head, still trying to process what he’s saying. Why did Dario do this for me? And why didn’t he tell me?
“I had no idea,” I say softly, my voice thick with emotion.
Mr. Jenkins sighs before walking over to gently pat my shoulder. “He must’ve wanted it to be a surprise. It’s all here for you when you’re ready, Ginny.”
The emotions hit me all at once—gratitude, disbelief, confusion. How could he be so thoughtful, so generous, and yet still have someone else in his life? Still see other women?
I bite my lip, fighting back tears. It’s too much. The baby, the wedding, the bakery...Dario. How am I supposed to handle all of this when I can’t even handle my own feelings?
“Ginny, are you all right?” Mr. Jenkins asks gently.
I nod, wiping at my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...overwhelmed, I guess.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “I understand. It’s a big responsibility, but you’ve got time. No rush.”
I manage a weak smile, thanking him softly before heading to the door. The moment I step outside, the cool air slaps my face, and all the emotions I’ve been holding in come crashing down on me at once. It feels as if everything is closing in, suffocating me. I can’t keep it inside any longer.
Tears blur my vision as I slump against the car, my body wracked with silent sobs. How could Dario do something so thoughtful, so kind, and still keep secrets from me? How am I supposed to trust him with a baby, with my heart, when he’s still hiding things? His mercurial nature, his hot and cold demeanor—how many more secrets does he have buried away?
And now there’s a baby. A piece of him is inside me. How am I supposed to tell him? What if he’s not ready for this, just like I’m not? The weight of everything presses down on me, and I feel utterly lost.
I’m still trapped in my thoughts when I sense someone behind me. Before I can turn, a sharp, searing pain shoots through my arm. I barely have time to process what’s happening before a hand clamps over my mouth, and a sickly sweet scent invades my senses. My vision swims, and panic rises, clawing at my throat.
No, no, not again...
I try to struggle, but my body feels heavy, my movements slow and uncoordinated. My knees buckle beneath me as the world starts to spin, darkness creeping in at the edges.
The last thing I hear is a voice—low, cold, and unfamiliar.
“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.”
And then...nothing.