Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Istare at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above Scarlett's guest bed, my hand resting on my still-flat stomach. Three days have passed since we confirmed what I'd been trying to deny. I'm carrying Damiano's child.
My child.
Lucrezia sleeps on the pullout couch in the living room. Her loyalty to me over her brother still baffles me.
Morning light filters through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the bedspread. I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time, my mind churning with impossible choices.
I can't stay hidden forever. Scarlett's apartment isn't safe long-term, not with both Byron and Damiano hunting for me. And Lucrezia deserves to go home, even if she insists otherwise.
But the thought of facing Damiano again makes my heart pound. When I close my eyes, I still see the fury and betrayal on his face in that office. The way he looked at me like I was nothing but a liar.
I press my palms against my eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" I whisper to the empty room.
This baby changes everything.
I sit up slowly, fighting a wave of nausea. I refuse to use this pregnancy as a manipulation tactic. This baby isn't a bargaining chip or a way to make Damiano feel sorry for me.
But this child deserves the truth. And so does Damiano, regardless of what he's done.
The door creaks open, and Lucrezia peeks in, her dark hair tousled from sleep.
"You're thinking too loud," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "I can hear you from the living room."
I manage a weak smile. "Sorry."
She crosses the room and sits beside me on the bed. "You've made a decision, haven't you?"
"I have to talk to him," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "Just once. I need to tell him everything I know about that night—about what Byron told me, about my father. He deserves to hear it from me."
"And the baby?" Lucrezia asks softly.
I shake my head. "Not yet. I need him to listen to me first, to believe me because of the truth, not because I'm pregnant."
Lucrezia takes my hand, her fingers warm against mine. "He might not listen."
"I know." The reality of what I'm proposing settles heavy in my chest. "But I have to try. For all of us."
I take a deep breath, mentally sorting through our limited options. "We need to pick neutral ground. Somewhere public enough that he can't make a scene, but private enough that we can actually talk."
Lucrezia nods, pulling her knees to her chest. "And it can't be anywhere Byron might expect. No fancy restaurants or hotel lobbies."
"What about The Café on 8th?" Scarlett suggests, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug in her hands. "It's busy enough for safety but has those secluded outdoor tables in the back garden."
I consider it, picturing the space. "That could work. It's far enough from both territories that neither of them has an advantage."
My stomach twists at the thought of facing him again. "Okay, let's call."
Lucrezia reaches for the burner phone Scarlett bought for us.
My hands feel clammy as she dials. She puts it on speaker, and the ringing seems to echo through the small bedroom.
"What?" Damiano's voice is sharp, exhausted. Just hearing him makes my heart race.
"It's me," Lucrezia says simply.
"Lucia." His tone changes instantly. "Are you hurt? Where are you? Is she with you?"
"I'm fine. We're both fine."
"Come home now. I'll send a car—"
"No," Lucrezia cuts him off. "I'll come back only if you agree to hear what Zoe has to tell you."
The silence stretches so long I wonder if he's hung up. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and dangerous. "Why should I listen to anything she has to say?"
"Fine," he finally says. "Where?"
"The Café on 8th. Tomorrow at ten."
"I'll be there."
Lucrezia bites her lip before asking, "Are you bringing anyone?"
"No." His voice softens slightly. "Are you two really okay? Is Easton keeping you somewhere?"
"We're safe," she assures him. "It's just us. Byron doesn't know where we are."
"I'll see you tomorrow." The line goes dead.
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "He agreed."
"He's worried sick about you both," Scarlett observes. "I could hear it in his voice."
"That doesn't mean he'll believe me," I whisper.
The line goes dead, the silence crushing me like a physical weight. I stare at the phone in my hand, Lucrezia's voice still echoing in my ears.
"We're both fine."
I run my thumb over the screen, my reflection distorted in the dark glass. Eight fucking days without knowing if my sister was alive or dead. Eight days imagining Zoe and Lucrezia ending up like Bianca, blood pooling around their bodies.
I slam the phone down on my desk and press the heels of my hands against my eyes. Exhaustion claws at me.
The knock at my door is hesitant, almost apologetic.
"Enter," I bark, straightening in my chair.
Alessio steps in, his face drawn with the same exhaustion that's been riding all of us. He takes one look at me and pauses.
"Something's happened."
It's not a question. He knows me too well.
"Lucrezia called," I say, my voice rough. "They're meeting me tomorrow at The Café on 8th at ten. Just me."
Alessio's eyebrows shoot up. "Both of them? Are they alright?"
"She says they are."
He crosses the room, dropping into the chair across from me. "Is this Easton's play?" he asks. "Drawing you out alone?"
I shake my head. "Lucia said he doesn't know where they are."
"And you believe that?"
"I believe my sister," I snap, then immediately regret it. Alessio doesn't deserve my anger. "Sorry."
He waves it off. "I'll organize security. We can have Noah and—"
"No," I cut him off. "I'm going alone."
Alessio leans forward, his face intense. "That's not happening, Damiano. It's too exposed."
I steel myself against Alessio's glare. For a moment, we're locked in a silent battle of wills, neither willing to back down. Finally, I exhale, my shoulders dropping slightly.
"Fine. Two men, but they stay outside," I concede. "If they're visible, Zoe and Lu might bolt."
Relief crosses Alessio's face. He runs his thumb along his bottom lip, thinking through the logistics. "Noah and Daniel. They'll blend in better than most."
"That works. But make sure they understand—no move unless I signal."
Alessio nods. "Lucrezia will understand the precaution." He studies my face for a moment. "How are you holding up?"
I laugh bitterly. "How do you think?"
"Are you ready to hear what she has to say?" Alessio asks carefully.
I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.
"Fuck, I don't know." The admission costs me.
"Maybe I should have let her talk that day in my office.
If I knew Lucrezia would pull something this fucking stupid.
.." I trail off, the rage and fear of the past week threatening to overwhelm me again.
"You were blindsided," Alessio says. "Finding out about her father—about Travis—it would shake anyone."
"Doesn't matter. I should have maintained control." The words taste bitter in my mouth. Control has always been my shield, and I'd let it slip.
"Just hear her out tomorrow," Alessio says.
I nod once, sharply. Whether I believe a word out of Zoe's mouth is another matter entirely.
"It would be easier to just drag them both back here once I see them."
Alessio's eyes lock with mine, that steady gaze that's kept me grounded through countless crises. "Technically, yes," he says carefully. "We could have Noah and Daniel grab them both, bring them back here. Problem solved."
"But that's not the best option if I want to be trusted again," I finish, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.