Chapter 40 Allegra
ALLEGRA
Surprisingly, Enzo continues to amaze me. After our late-night kitchen adventure, he started learning how to bake the perfect cake, and he loves to surprise me now and then with a new recipe.
I never saw it coming, but we've settled into a comfortable routine. He spends most of his time at home with me, only going to work when he's called in for an emergency.
We resumed our library sessions, and with time, I started loosening up around him.
I'm still a bit wary of him and his intentions, but I'm trying to enjoy my pregnancy.
"Look at our little one," he says, looking lovingly at the sonogram and tracing the features of our baby with his fingers.
"I can't believe we're having a boy," he whispers, almost reverently.
"I knew from the start," I tease. From the beginning, I said I wanted a boy while he'd shared that he wanted a girl.
"Another little tigress cub to join our family. Just like her mamma," he'd say.
"Now we'll have another handsome devil like his papa," I say, moving closer to him and resting my head on his shoulder.
"I wish he wouldn't," he says, so softly I can barely hear him. I turn my head toward him, my brows knitting in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
The tick in his jaw lets me know this is a delicate subject.
"Being handsome doesn't guarantee you anything except doubting everyone's intentions toward you," he says cryptically.
"I don't understand…"
"Remember the Symposium?" he asks, and I nod.
"It's easy to desire the flesh—it's innate.
It's human nature to be drawn to beauty.
It's harder, though, to desire the soul, because you're first dazzled or repulsed by the flesh," he pauses, his hand gently stroking my hair.
"But when everyone desires the flesh, how do you know who desires the soul? "
"So you'd rather be repulsive?" I counter, because our experiences are polar opposites.
"Isn't it the same the other way around?
When everyone is repulsed by the flesh, how do you get someone to give you a chance?
" He may have grown up fawned over by everyone around him, but I grew up being scorned by everyone, so I can attest that it's not fun either.
"I'd rather be…normal," he says with a sigh. "Average…the type of person you'd pass by on the street and not look at twice."
"I'd rather be pretty too. We all want what we can't have."
His fingers suddenly grip my chin as he forces me to look into his eyes.
"You are. To me, you're the prettiest woman," he says, and for once I don't argue. Instead, I smile, going up on my tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. So what if he's lying? For once in my life, I feel pretty, and his words bring me even more joy.
"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.
I refrain from telling him that I'm not with him because of his looks and that it's the glimpses into his heart that made me fall in love with him. Because that would mean admitting my feelings, and I don't want to give him any future leverage.
We're fine like this, loving but with no words of love. We're…comfortable.
My next doctor's appointment comes, and we get ready to go together. On the way to the hospital, though, Enzo receives a phone call about an urgent situation at the Sacré-C?ur, where his sister lives.
"I don't want to leave you alone," he says reluctantly, and I can tell he's genuinely sorry for missing the appointment.
"Go help your sister. There will be more appointments," I say, pushing at him playfully.
A little more back and forth and he finally decides to go, but not before assigning me double the number of bodyguards.
When we reach the hospital, I convince my bodyguards to wait outside the gynecology section, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with five menacing-looking men.
I enter the hallway and take a seat in the waiting area. I'm a little early, so the nurse informs me that I should wait until my name is called.
Picking up one of the magazines lying around, I try to immerse myself in the reading, hoping time will pass faster.
I notice, though, from the corner of my eye as a man sits right beside me. I frown, noting all the other empty seats around.
Odd.
Trying to ignore it, I turn back to my magazine.
"Nice weather for November," the man says, and I realize he's addressing me.
"Sorry, I'm married," I say quickly, showing him my ring finger. I've experienced Enzo's jealousy before, and I don't want a repeat.
Instead, I stand up to move seats.
"It's not a pickup line, Mrs. Agosti." His knowledge of my name has me immediately on alert.
"Special Agent McNaught," he says, opening his jacket slightly to show me his badge. "Please sit down."
"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person," I say, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.
"Your husband is Enzo Agosti, son of Rocco Agosti. Please sit down. You might be interested in what I have to say."
I don't know what prompts me to do this, but I resume my seat. I'm well aware that both Rocco and Enzo operate outside the law, but I've never heard specifics.
"What do you want?" I ask, keeping my gaze forward.
"We've been studying your husband's family for a while now. It's very much a surprise to be able to meet you here. We've known about your existence for a couple of years now, but you've barely been sighted in the city before."
"So?"
"I can only assume your husband has been keeping you away," he says, and he's not far off the mark. Still, I don't trust him.
"I'm not sure how that's any of your business, agent," I mutter, a little put off by his tone.
"I don't know if you're aware, but your attending physician when you had your ER visit in August noted potential domestic abuse in your file. That's how you came onto our radar for the first time."
"I explained to the doctor, and I'll explain the same to you. It wasn't, and it's never been, domestic abuse," I say through gritted teeth.
Why are people so quick to assume?
"Do you know what your husband's family does, Mrs. Agosti?" the agent continues, and I have an idea where this is going.
"Yes. They own a restaurant chain," I answer truthfully.
"The restaurant is a front for multiple clubs facilitating drugs, human trafficking, and prostitution."
I don't answer, because what can one say when faced with such facts?
"So? Get to the point, agent."
"I think we can help each other. We know of the existence of these clubs, but we don't know the exact locations. If you could find that out for us, then…"
I tilt my head to the side, a bored expression on my face.
"We'll help you get out. We can move you into a witness protection program. You and your child would be safe." He nods toward my belly.
I smile at him sweetly. It's interesting how a few months ago I would have jumped at this opportunity. But I've since decided to give Enzo and parenthood a chance. And my baby will have both parents.
"That sounds like an interesting story, agent. For whoever will believe you," I start, and I look at him from the corner of my eye. His fists are clenched.
"Mrs. Agosti," the nurse calls out for me, and I stand up to go. But I feel the need to clarify one thing.
"Just for the record, agent, I am not in an abusive relationship, and my husband is a wonderful man. If you'll excuse me," I start walking toward the exam room, when the agent grabs me by the hand.
I'm ready to go on the defensive, but he only slides a contact card into my hand.
"If you ever change your mind," he nods at me before he disappears down the hallway.
Although the encounter with the agent rattled me, I tried to put it out of my mind.
It wasn't worth losing energy over. But for some reason, after I'd gotten home, I'd immediately set out to find the location of those clubs.
It had taken me a few weeks, some strategic snooping, and listening in on phone calls, but I'd done it.
Leverage.
That's what I told myself. After all, nothing is ever certain in this world, and I won't take any chances with my baby.
I'd only managed to find where two of the clubs are, but I have another list with properties owned by Rocco under different aliases. If anything were to happen, I'd be ready.
But being by Enzo's side is too intoxicating, and the guilt's starting to eat me alive. He's been so attentive, so caring, that I feel like I'm betraying his trust by doing this.
After the initial missed appointment, Enzo made it a priority not to miss any of the others.
Currently, at thirty-six weeks pregnant, I feel like a whale.
"It's all your fault," I grumble as we head home from the latest checkup. "You're feeding me too much cake."
He'd really become a master pastry chef. I'd always joke with him that he could quit his life of crime and just get a job as a chef at one of his restaurants.
"My boy needs his strength," he jokes, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head. "Now tell me honestly," he talks in between small kisses, "what do you want for your birthday? You can have anything you want."
"Anything?" I raise an eyebrow jokingly.
"Anything, so shoot."
"Hmm…" your love, "nothing. I have everything I want. Or I will, once this little one decides it's time to come into the world."
"Just a couple more weeks until your due date, little tigress, and we'll meet our baby boy." He leans forward to kiss my enormous bump.
"Luca, can you stop by the gas station? I need to get some cigarettes," Enzo instructs our driver.
I look back and see the other car still behind us.
"Do we really need that many bodyguards when we go out?" I ask, mostly out of curiosity.
"I'm never taking chances with your life, little tigress. Besides, they always keep a distance so they don't bother you too much."
I nod absentmindedly, knowing his overprotective tendencies might only get worse after the birth.