Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
GRAYSON
I watched Meredith curl up on the couch with a blanket, refusing to leave her friend alone. The sight warmed something in me I didn't know needed warming. Sofia needed her people around her, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, I was one of those people now.
All of last night, Meredith had helped ease Sofia, doing exactly what I'd hoped, and Sof had even laughed. She'd allowed me to join in with some board games, and we'd had a pleasant evening after dinner, chatting and pretending everything was fine with the world.
That there was no darkness closing in around us.
"You don't have to stay, Mer," Sofia said as she sipped her decaf coffee I'd made, though the relief in her eyes told a different story.
"Like hell I don't." Meredith tucked her feet under her. "Besides, I want to see Gray try to cook breakfast. This should be entertaining."
I rolled my eyes but headed to the kitchen anyway. "I'll have you know I make a mean omelet. I used to cook for you."
"Yeah, and it was a disaster-zone in the kitchen all the time," Meredith quipped. "I still remember when you burned the crepes and set off the fire alarm so bad that an actual firetruck came."
"Oh, that would've been costly," Sof said with a wince.
"Hey, growing pains, okay? I was learning," I defended myself, causing them both to laugh.
For a brief moment, watching Sofia smile at her friend, I could almost pretend this was normal. That we weren't trying to wade through murky waters, that she wasn't being forced into a marriage with another family, that we were trying to find a way to save her and our child without starting an all out war.
But it wasn't normal. And the weight of that knowledge settled heavy on my shoulders as I cracked eggs into a bowl.
* * *
The following week was something special in more ways than one.
I had gotten myself settled into Sofia's home with the necessities, and I'd even been sleeping in bed with her. Something she was allowing, although, considering the late evenings on the phone, sleep was all we were doing. Some days I went into the office, making sure my own security remained around her place. She wanted to be alone often, it was what she was used to, so I was trying to find the balance to make her life as comfortable as possible. She’d told me she didn’t want me there constantly, suffocating her. Besides, she still wanted to work, and I’d allowed it, saying she at least needed my security team with her around the hospital. It was a compromise we were both comfortable with.
I still needed to work, but majority of my time was spent with Leo strategizing, trying to find leverage against Ernesto or information about the Ference family that might give us an advantage. A way to end this before it began, to sever this marriage. We had one more week until the engagement party, and it was the moment we were aiming to get this sorted by.
We'd dug up all sorts of information, some of it I was unwilling to share with Sofia right now in her current state.
Like how Juan Ference had indeed murdered his last fiancée when she'd tried to break it off. Her remains had been lost at sea after he'd taken her on his yacht to deal with her. We'd managed to get the information through a weak link in his men, one who was more than willing to share when a pretty woman was grinding on him.
The Ference family was big on prostitution, even with their own women, using them to gather intelligence all around or offering them as payment.
Too bad we had our own connections in such circles. We may have hated the idea of prostitution, but we had our connections where needed, owned shares and full businesses for strippers. If the dancers opted to do extra for more money, then so be it, but it was never forced. It was always a choice.
But it was another thread we’d discovered that looked to be the best information we'd come across, and now we were following it, doing our best to get the root and truth of it, but it was proving difficult.
But Leo believed he was getting close, and if he could prove it, then we'd have our smoking gun to unravel this whole thing in a way. We just needed to play it right.
Sofia kept me at arm's length during the day while at work, only responding to texts where I was checking in, and I had to make sure I had a team set up around the hospital, keeping an eye on the place. She even took additional overtime shifts so that she didn't have a single day off. I knew it was so she wasn't left with her own mind. She wanted to remain busy while we figured this out.
While other people sorted out how her life was going to go.
I could understand her distress there.
But at night, she'd allow me small victories—letting me cook dinner, accepting my help with the dishes, even sitting beside me on the couch while we pretended to watch television.
One evening, as I placed a plate of chicken and vegetables in front of her, the question that had been burning in my mind finally escaped.
"Have you seen a doctor? Gotten yourself checked out and prenatal appointments set up?"
Sofia's fork paused halfway to her mouth. She set it down carefully, her eyes fixed on her plate.
"You seem to have done your research, Gray. But no, I haven't."
I frowned at this. I'd done my research, and prenatal appointments typically started at 8 weeks, but I'd rather get it underway sooner rather than later, especially with the abundance of stress in her life. She'd told me she'd had a blood test to confirm her pregnancy since it was still early days. "Why, Sof? You need to see a doctor, get ahead of this, get checked out fully."
"I know." She pushed the vegetables around her plate. "But if Ernesto or Juan find out?—"
"We have a family doctor, the Donatis, I mean. We could get him to do this, keep it all quiet and off the record," I suggested.
"He's also an obstetrician or gynecologist?" She arched a brow at me.
"Dr. Gatlin is a man of many skills, I'll make a call and see if he can do it. If not, he'll know someone, someone we can use who will keep it off the record," I answered, already pulling my phone out.
"I'm not sure?—"
"Sof, we need to make sure your baby is growing healthy and there's no complications. Our baby," I said firmly, and she nodded in resignation.
It was strange, seeing her so robotic at times, that fire I adored now waning amidst this mess.
I paced the living area, her gaze burning a hole into my back as I got ahold of the doctor.
To my relief, he had experience in pregnancies, and could come around tonight. Perfect.
"He'll be here in just over an hour," I said once I hung up, and she frowned.
"He's coming here? Not exactly sterile, don't you think?"
"It's your house, we can set up the best area that you're comfortable in. Unless you have a better idea?" I shot back.
"Here is fine, I have some disposable medical sheets, we can set up one of the rooms or something, he probably wants to do a full exam…" her voice trailed off as her brow furrowed in thought.
"Well, you finish eating and then go shower and get in comfortable attire and we'll start getting it set up."
She nodded, and I watched her slowly finish her meal, my heart pulling.
I wanted her back to her old self, for this whole mess to be over with.
I'd never felt so goddamn helpless in my life.
My phone buzzed with a text from Leo just as Sofia headed upstairs to shower.
My father wants to talk with you eventually, I had to fill him in. In a meeting right now.
I frowned at the screen. Canzio Donati wanting to talk was something I needed to be careful with. Perhaps he didn't want us getting involved in this mess. Leo must have been digging too much, drawing his attention. After all, Canzio was the main head of the family, nothing slipped under his radar.
Should I be worried?
I texted back.
No.
I'd have to accept that then and just wait until I heard from Canzio.
Almost an hour later, I sat beside Sofia on the couch, watching her pretend to be engrossed in some medical drama. I couldn't help but smile sadly at the irony—a nurse watching fictional doctors while we waited for a real one to arrive. She was leaning into my shoulder, the throw draped over us both.
The doorbell rang, and I squeezed her shoulder before standing. "That'll be him."
Dr. Gatlin was a tall, lean man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a face that somehow managed to look both stern and kind. He carried a black medical bag that looked straight out of the 1950s, though I knew it contained state-of-the-art equipment.
"Grayson," he greeted me with a firm handshake. "It's nice to see you again. Where's the lady of the hour?"
"You as well, and this way." I led him into the living room where Sofia had straightened up, switched off the TV, and was now sitting rigidly on the edge of the couch. "Dr. Gatlin, this is Sofia."
Sofia stood and extended her hand. "Thank you for coming, Doctor."
"Please, call me James." He set his bag down. "I understand congratulations are in order, but perhaps under complicated circumstances?"
Sofia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "You could say that."
"Well, let's start with some questions, shall we? When was your last menstrual period?"
I sat beside Sofia as she answered Dr. Gatlin's questions about her cycle, medical history, and family health background.
"Any nausea, fatigue, breast tenderness?" he asked, making notes on a small tablet.
"All of the above," Sofia admitted. "The nausea's worst in the morning, but it comes and goes throughout the day."
Dr. Gatlin nodded. "I'd like to draw some blood for testing, and then we'll do a physical examination."
I watched as he expertly tied a tourniquet around Sofia's arm and found a vein on the first try. Sofia didn't even flinch as the needle went in.
"I'll run these for HCG levels, blood type, antibodies, and the standard panel," he explained as he labeled the vials. "We'll need to get you started on prenatal vitamins immediately."
"I already picked some up," I said, earning a surprised look from Sofia. I'd stuck them in the pantry for now, wanting to make sure with Sofia that they were the right ones, but I didn't want to overwhelm her just yet.
Dr. Gatlin packed away the blood samples. "Now, Sofia, I understand you've prepared a room for the pelvic examination?"
She nodded. "Upstairs, first door on the right."
"Would you like Grayson to stay or wait downstairs?" the doctor asked.
Sofia hesitated, then looked at me. "You can stay... if you want."
"I'll stay," I said firmly.
The room Sofia and I had prepared was a guest bedroom with a neatly made bed, a pile of still wrapped medical sheets on the end, a hospital gown, a rolling desk chair at the foot of it, and a bunch of pillows at the ready.
Dr. Gatlin washed his hands thoroughly in the adjoining bathroom while Sofia changed into the gown while I turned away.
As if I'd not seen her naked body several times, but this was not the right place. When she sat on the edge of the bed, her face was carefully blank, professional—the face of someone who'd been on the other side of this equation countless times. She set up the pillows in a way so that her body was angled right when she laid down fully.
I stood awkwardly by the door until Sofia patted the space beside her head. "You can sit here."
Dr. Gatlin returned, pulling on gloves. "Alright, Sofia, if you could lie back and place your feet wide. I see you've got the pillows set up nicely, makes this much easier for me."
I took her hand as she positioned herself, and she squeezed mine tightly.
"This will be uncomfortable, but I'll be as quick as possible," Dr. Gatlin assured her as he got some supplies from his bag.
When Sofia winced and her grip tightened painfully on my hand, something burned in my chest.
"Is that necessary?" I demanded, perhaps more sharply than needed.
Dr. Gatlin remained calm. "It's just a cervical scraping for testing. Unfortunately, pelvic exams are never pleasant, but this is standard procedure."
Sofia's free hand reached up to touch my arm. "It's okay, Gray. I'm fine."
I nodded, forcing myself to relax, but I didn't look away from her face, watching for any sign of distress.
"Everything looks good so far," Dr. Gatlin announced as he finished the examination. "I'll have these results for you very soon, and then we can discuss a complete prenatal care plan."
"Good, thank you," I said as he rose, still packing things into his bag, taking care with the samples from Sofia.
"How about we head out so Sofia can get dress?" he suggested, and I nodded, casting Sofia a glance before following him out into the hall.
"I'll get these results to you by tomorrow, although it will all be fine I imagine, she’s a healthy young woman, not medical history that’s concerning. Sounds like the issues around this pregnancy are not actually physical or health related," he said quietly. "I wish you all the best of luck."
He turned away, pausing for a moment before turning back and patting my shoulder. "And congratulations, I hope everything goes smoothly."
"Thanks." What else could I say? Dr. Gatlin didn't want to say too much, he knew the situation we were in.
With that, he left, and I headed back in to the room once Sof was ready, helping her tidy it up.
"He's a nice Doctor," she murmured as we shoved the medical sheets into a trash bag and put the pillows back.
"He is," I agreed, and she paused, watching me quietly.
Before I could say anything or move to hold her, my phone rang. Canzio Donati's name flashed on the screen when I fished it out of my pocket.
"I need to take this," I said, and she nodded.
"I'm going to go keep watching my show." She moved past me, and I sat down in the desk chair as I answered.
"Sir."
"Grayson." Canzio's voice was calm, measured—the same tone he used when discussing business. But I knew this was no business call. "Leo tells me you've found yourself in an interesting situation."
I swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"The Savoca girl is carrying your child, and Ernesto is trying to marry her off to Juan Ference."
"That's correct."
He sighed heavily. "And what do you intend to do about it?"
"Whatever's necessary to protect Sofia and our child."
He was quiet for a moment now. I could almost see him sitting at his desk, fingers steepled in front of him, those ice-blue eyes calculating.
"The Savoca family has been left without proper leadership after Marco's death," he finally said. "Ernesto may be leading it, but he lacks support from within his own family after the deaths he caused years ago. He's desperate. The alliance with Ference is a power play, nothing more. A way to win trust and loyalty back."
"I figured as much." Leo and I had uncovered such information as well.
"I'll come to the house tomorrow. We'll discuss options." His tone made it clear this wasn't a request.
"Yes, sir."
"And Grayson?" Something in his voice changed, as if it had softened. "Congratulations on the pregnancy.”
He ended the call before I could say a word.
I set the phone down, processing the conversation. Canzio's interest meant more resources, connections, protection—but it also meant the situation had become a proper Donati family matter. And Donati family matters often ended in blood.
I turned to find Sofia standing in the doorway, watching me. So much for watching her show.
"Was that Leo's dad?" she asked quietly, and I nodded.
"He wants to meet tomorrow. To discuss options."
"Options," she repeated flatly. "You mean how to deal with my family, with me."
"How to keep you safe," I corrected as I stood, closing the distance between us. "How to keep our baby safe."
Sofia's hand drifted to her stomach, a gesture so unconscious and protective it made my chest ache. "This baby could start a war, Gray," she whispered.
"We won't let it reach that point," I said, reaching for her. Thankfully, she didn't pull away.
I drew her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other splayed across her lower back. She fit perfectly against me, her face nestled into my neck, her breath warm on my skin.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly, and my heart crumbled as I held her tighter.
"I know." I pressed my lips to her temple. "But you're not alone. I'm here, and I'll keep you safe."
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes searching mine. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.
The kiss started gentle, tentative—but the moment her body pressed fully against mine, her lips becoming more hungry, something snapped inside me. The possessiveness that had been building every day surged through my veins like wildfire.
I backed her against the wall, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip. My mouth devoured hers, claiming, marking, owning. She gasped against my lips, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
But she was kissing me back just as desperately.
"Mine," I growled, trailing harsh kisses down her neck. "You're mine, Sofia. You and the baby. Mine."
"Gray," she breathed, arching into me.
"I won't let anyone hurt you. Either of you."
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to our bedroom.
Our bedroom.
The thought had felt so right, I didn't even bother to ponder it.
Every step fueled the primal need burning through me—to claim her, to mark her, to make it impossible for her to forget who loved her.
I laid her on the bed, my body covering hers, pinning her beneath me. My hand found her throat, not squeezing but holding, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm. I wasn't sure why I did it, but she didn't seem to care.
No, it wasn't that she didn't care. She knew I would never hurt her.
And that made me rock hard.
"Tell me to stop," I said, my voice barely recognizable. "If you don't want this, tell me now. I need you to say it, Sofia."
Her eyes, dark with desire, locked on mine. "Don't stop."
That was all I needed.
I claimed her mouth again, my hand still resting on her throat, feeling her every breath, her every swallow. Her life. My other hand worked at her clothes, pushing fabric aside until I could touch bare skin.
"You're carrying my child," I murmured against her ear. "My blood. My family."
Sofia moaned, her hips rising to meet mine. "Gray, please."
I stripped away her clothing, my eyes never leaving hers, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. When she lay naked beneath me, I took a moment to simply look at her—at the gentle swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the flat plane of her stomach where our child grew.
"Beautiful," I breathed, trailing my fingers across her skin. "So fucking beautiful."
I shed my own clothes quickly, then settled between her thighs, my hand returning to her throat. The trust in her eyes as she arched into my touch nearly undid me.
"Mine," I repeated, pressing into her slowly, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a gasp. "Say it, Sofia. Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," she whispered, her hands clutching at my back. "I'm yours, Gray."
I set a punishing pace, driven by something deeper than desire, something possessive that pulsed through my veins. My hand remained on her throat, feeling every moan, every plea. Her nails raked down my back, marking me as thoroughly as I marked her with kisses and nips to her neck and shoulder. Nips that would leave bruises in their wake, but she didn’t seem to be caring right now.
When she shattered beneath me, crying out my name, I followed her over the edge, my release a claim on her body, on her very being.
Afterward, I gathered her against my chest, my hand splayed protectively over her stomach. Neither of us spoke for a long time, content to simply breathe together in the aftermath.
"That was..." Sofia finally murmured, her voice slightly hoarse.
"Too much?" I asked, suddenly worried I'd frightened her with my intensity.
I wasn’t even sure where it had come from. I’d never bitten a woman before to this extent, bruising them, or held one by the throat.
Why had it felt oddly right?
She shook her head, pressing a kiss to my chest. "No. It was exactly what I needed. Oddly enough.”
I tightened my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. Tomorrow would bring back reality—Canzio, Ernesto, the looming engagement party. But tonight, in this bed, Sofia was mine. Our child was safe. And I'd move heaven and earth to keep it that way.