Chapter Eleven #2
“Like I give a fuck,” Lorenzo says, voice sharp, eyes fixed on the old man like a predator preparing to strike.
A small, shameful spark of pride flares inside me, the part of me that still aches for him, still wants him, still feels safe under his shadow. But I crush it immediately. I can’t want this man. I can’t want him to fight for me.
I straighten my spine.
“Please stop this nonsense,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Tell me what you want, old man.”
Luciano and Lorenzo both turn to me.
“Will ten million dollars work for you?” I add flatly. “If yes, I’ll make the transaction tomorrow.”
“I don’t need money,” he mutters.
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Of course you do. Would a hundred million satisfy whatever ego you’re trying to feed? Five hundred? Just tell me.”
They stare at me, shocked. I know they knew I received my inheritance. . . but neither expected that I’d throw numbers like that without blinking. I don’t care about money. I’d burn every cent if it would get my baby out of here safe.
“I want him to marry my daughter,” Luciano says calmly.
My stomach drops so violently I almost reach for the wall.
Marry his daughter.
I look at Lorenzo’s beautiful, infuriating face.
Imagine him with some gorgeous Italian girl.
His hands on her waist.
His mouth against her skin.
His ring on her finger.
Jealousy spears through me so viciously it steals my breath, then shame follows right after, why do I care? Why does the idea of him loving someone else make me want to rip the wallpaper off the walls?
I keep my expression blank.
“Convince him,” Luciano continues. “Convince him to marry Aurora, and you’ll be free of me.”
Free of him.
Free.
But the price would be giving him up.
Giving him to someone else.
Knowing he belonged to another woman while his child grew inside me.
I swallow the pain with effort.
“Have you completely lost your fucking mind?” Lorenzo’s tone drops to something dangerous, almost quiet. “She doesn’t need to fight you to be free. I’ll handle that.” He tilts his head slightly, jaw tight. “Seems like you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re standing in front of.”
Then he raises his gun and shoots Luciano in the leg.
The scream that rips out of the old man echoes in my skull.
Before I can breathe, Lorenzo turns and shoots both remaining guards in the head. Their bodies hit the floor, blood splattering across the marble. I flinch, covering my belly with both arms.
This is the man I’m tied to forever.
“You can wait outside, love,” Lorenzo tells me, calm as if he didn’t just execute two men. “I’ll take care of the old man and then we can go home. I don’t want to cause more stress to our baby. Luciano’s death will be loud and slow.”
I actually feel sick.
“Did you develop hearing problems since the last time I saw you?” I snap, hating how shaky my voice sounds. “I said the baby isn’t yours and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His mouth curves.
That cocky, heart-stopping, devastating smirk.
“Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I’ll make a great step-father.”
He winks.
My heart stutters.
God, pregnancy hormones or not, he is the most gorgeous nightmare I’ve ever seen. A nightmare I still crave.
“You’ll marry Aurora,” the old man hisses.
I want Lorenzo to wipe that smug smile off his face permanently.
“I’ll humor you,” Lorenzo says, leaning back like this is entertainment. “Take a seat, love. Let’s hear how the old man thinks I’m going to marry his daughter when the woman I love is standing right in front of me, carrying my child.”
His words hit me like a blow.
Love.
He loves me?
No. He ruins everything he touches. Including me.
Luciano scoffs. “Your family is under Cosa Nostra. Your family are members.”
Lorenzo’s posture stiffens.
“Only Dante is part of Cosa Nostra,” he answers coldly.
Luciano smirks. “Oh, Dante, yes. I informed my men that if any gunshot comes out of this office, your uncle will receive one cut for each bullet. How many bullets so far? Five?”
My stomach turns.
Is Lorenzo really willing to let them hurt Dante just to make a point?
“Dante’s a big man,” Lorenzo says casually. “He can handle some cuts.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or bluffing. . . and that terrifies me.
“What about your mother?” Luciano adds.
Lorenzo shoots out of the chair like a weapon being unsheathed.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I gave clear orders,” Luciano continues, voice trembling now. “If I die, your mother dies. She’s a member. All of your family is. You included, Lorenzo. I am your don. If you don’t obey, your entire family will pay the price.”
My blood runs cold.
“Do you think it’s smart to threaten me?” Lorenzo’s voice drops, low, deadly.
“I think it is smart for you to think about the proposal I made, if you want everyone to be happy,” the old man says. His voice carries that smug, rotten confidence that makes my stomach twist. “And most importantly, safe. I will give you five days to decide. If you want to keep a mistress. . .”
His gaze lands on me.
I feel sick immediately. The kind of sickness that rises from the bottom of your soul, not your stomach.
“I will let you keep her if it is discreet,” he continues, studying me as if I am a possession, not a human being.
“I will not let any man disrespect my daughter. But you will not claim the bastard as yours. That is a disgrace to Cosa Nostra. You will say the child belongs to someone else. She said that anyway.”
My entire body goes cold. My hands instinctively cover my belly. I force myself to stand completely still, even though every instinct inside me screams to run or scream or throw up.
Lorenzo does not say a word.
Not one.
He just stares at Luciano with this unreadable, deadly expression that I have never seen on him before. Something between murder and restraint. Something that tells me he has already imagined fifteen different ways to end this man.
Then he turns to face me.
And his expression softens in such a complicated way that my heart cracks straight down the middle.
I cannot read him. I cannot understand what he is thinking.
I know what I told him, I know I lied, I know I said the baby was not his.
But hearing Luciano say the words out loud, hearing that Lorenzo would have to pretend his child is someone else’s.
. . I feel something deep and painful rip through my chest.
And mistress.
Me.
A mistress.
The thought almost knocks the air from my lungs. I do not want him. I do not plan to be with him. I hate him for breaking me. But the image of him standing at an altar with someone else makes something inside me cave in completely.
“Let’s go, Serena,” he says gently. He touches the small of my back.
I let him guide me because I want to escape this place more than anything. My legs feel numb. My head feels heavy. I focus on breathing and nothing else.
The door opens and a man enters with two young women. The doctor. And two nurses. They rush toward Luciano, who is still bleeding into his chair. The doctor pauses when he reaches me, recognition flashing in his eyes.
Before he can speak, Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the room behind me.
“Move.”
The doctor steps aside, but as we pass, he leans slightly toward me.
“Hi, sorry, Serena,” he says softly. “Take care of yourself.”
I force a small smile. It feels like my face is cracking. “I will.”
I turn to follow Lorenzo, desperate to leave this nightmare behind.
But then the doctor raises his voice behind me.
“Oh, and eat more food, Serena. You will need it. You will use a lot of energy because of the twins.”
I stop breathing.
Completely.
My entire world freezes around me.
Twins.
I have twins.
The hallway disappears.
The sounds of nurses whispering fade.
Even the cold marble floor beneath my feet seems to vanish.
Twins.
Two heartbeats.
Two lives.
Two tiny pieces of me.
Two tiny pieces of him.
My hand flies to my belly, trembling so violently I can barely press my palm against the fabric. I turn very slowly, as if any sudden movement might shatter me.
Lorenzo stands a few feet away.
His body is rigid.
His jaw clenched.
His eyes locked on my stomach with a look that I cannot decipher. Anger. Shock. Awe. Fear. All of it. None of it. Something else entirely.
I cannot breathe.
I cannot think.
My throat closes.
Twins.
My legs wobble and I reach for the wall, trying to steady myself. My tears don’t fall. They do not even reach my eyes. They stay stuck somewhere inside my chest where everything feels swollen and tight.
The father of my children is a murderer.
The men who held me captive kept me alive for the wrong reasons.
The world is falling apart around me and I am responsible for two lives now, not one.
Twins.