Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SERENITY
“I’m full, Nana,” I say, pushing away from the long table as I rub my soft belly.
She laughs softly. “You need to eat up. Remember, you’re eating for two now.”
My grandmother stands just four-foot-eleven—small but fiery.
She’ll curse you out in Italian in two seconds if you get out of line.
I know not to cross my grandmother.
Being married to an Italian gangster must have hardened her somehow.
I can’t help but wonder if she’d ever laid eyes on a dead body or helped torture her husband’s enemies.
My nana is beautiful. Her skin is smooth and sun-kissed.
Her large, gray eyes sparkle beneath perfectly arched brows, and her heart-shaped lips curve into a knowing smile.
Though she’s seventy-two, she looks no older than sixty.
Her long, dark hair is tied loosely in a low ponytail, cascading down her back, brushing the seat.
When I arrived on the front doorstep of her mansion, I introduced her to the new bodyguards my father had assigned to protect me.
They stepped inside to thoroughly sweep the house for any listening devices.
Though Nana has her own security team and I trust the place is secure, my father prefers to be extra cautious.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, our eyes met, and I unraveled. I collapsed into her embrace, her hands gently rubbing my back.
“Let it all out, Serenity,” she urged, her thick Italian accent wrapping around the words.
Nana pulled back, cupping my face, her gaze traveling over me. “Serenity, are you pregnant?”
How had she guessed? We FaceTime’d often, but maybe it was the tears betraying me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
She guided me to the sofa, sitting down and letting me rest my head on her lap as I cried myself to sleep.
I went from holding back tears to sobbing uncontrollably every few minutes.
Stupid hormones. I told myself the crying would stop once the baby was here.
On the jet, I’d ordered several baby books to help on my pregnancy journey. They should arrive soon.
“How many days do I get to spend with my granddaughter?” she asks, pulling me back from my thoughts.
I glance at her as she sips her Italian coffee.
“I’ll be in Italy for a long time. If I can stay here for a little while. Just until I find a house.”
She grabs my hand. “You will stay right here until you’re ready to return to America.”
My heart lurches in my chest at the mention of home.
My shoulders relax. “Thank you, Nana.”
I peek at the half-eaten lasagna, then at her. “I’m not returning to America.”
Her jaw drops. “Serenity Francessca Cichello, are you running from your problems?”
I lift my head. “If I were running from my problems, I would’ve attended high school here. I will face those bastards, eventually.” I run a protective hand over my belly.
My grandmother knows all about the hell I endured at fourteen. She wanted me to live with her then, but I couldn’t’t do it. I was in and out of the psychiatric ward all summer before I started at my new high school.
“I refuse to let them take my baby. I’m placing my child for adoption, and it will be a closed one.”
She stands there, mouth hanging open. “What did the child’s father say about you leaving the country and putting his child up for adoption?” she demands bluntly.
“This is my baby,” I answer with unwavering conviction.
She lifts a brow. “Did you go to a sperm bank?”
I slide my hand over my wavy hair. “No. I slept with two men. I don’t know who the father is.”
She grips my hand tighter now. “So you slept with both men without using protection?”
“I was on birth control and somehow I still got pregnant.”
“Did the condoms break?” she asks.
“Nana, I don’t wish to talk about it.”
“This isn’t Nico’s baby?” she pushes.
My eyes widen. “Nico? How do you know about Nico?”
She chuckles. “You and your dad are alike in a lot of ways. He’s vented to me about that boy over the years. Says he won’t walk away from you. Said he came to his office looking for you.”
I jump to my feet, stumbling backward.
My grandmother swiftly approaches and grips my arm, steadying me. For seventy-two, she’s surprisingly strong.
“When did he see Dad?” I ask.
“Early this morning,” she answers.
My heart pounds fiercely against my ribs.
“Does he know I’m here?” I whisper, panic coursing through me.
“No,” she replies.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath.
“So you took a mafia man’s baby out of the country?”
Why is she pushing for this baby to be Nico’s?
“They’re both in the mafia. So yeah.”
She stares at me a beat. “When you want to really talk, I’m here.”
I offer a small smile. “Thank you, Nana.”
I feel bad about lying to my grandmother. Only one of the men is in the mafia, but I said they both were to shut down her line of questioning.
That night, I settle onto the bed in the room I’ve always stayed in whenever we come to visit my grandmother.
Thirty years have passed since my grandfather died—killed in a brutal mafia war. Nana never remarried, and I find myself wondering why.
I exhale deeply, my breath heavy, as my mind turns to the plans I’ve laid out for the coming thirty-five weeks.
Serenity Cichello is having a baby. It feels so far-fetched.
Deep down, I wanted to marry and start a family with Nico Pitucco.
Secretly in high school I doodled Serenity Pitucco in my notebook over a hundred times.
That was before he broke my heart. If only he hadn’t broken my heart and we weren’t in the mafia, we could’ve been happy.
I feel at ease knowing this baby is my little secret.
Only a few people know about my pregnancy.
It’s for the best. This child will be adopted into a good family.
When I close my eyes, I see Nico’s deep whiskey-brown gaze fixed on me as he says he wants me to be his wife.
My breath stammers in my throat. I love him with a pain that cuts to the bone.
Yet, I can never be with him. My heart will never belong to another man—it will always belong to Nico.
Trying to date other men was agonizing. Every time Nico made love to me so intensely, I felt foolish for even attempting to let go of him.
Now, miles away, all I want is to run back to him.
I realize the longest I’ve been apart from him—almost a year.
This time, I walked away for good. I’d threatened it countless times before.
The hollow coldness inside my cold, dead heart is what I deserve.
I shattered my first love’s heart. The mafia boss had bared his soul to me, and I crushed it underfoot—not on purpose.
I told him I was broken, wasn’t fit to marry or have children.
Nico will have to marry soon. The thought twists my stomach. There’s no one to blame but myself.
My eyelids lower and the tears flow again as I doze off.