Chapter 18
MADALINA
SIX WEEKS LATER
I lie still in bed, with Dario’s arm wrapped under my hips and his head resting on my stomach where he fell asleep last night. Reaching over to the nightstand, I pick up the sonogram picture. Looking at the two little babies that are growing inside me puts a warm feeling in my chest.
I won’t admit to Dario that I’m starting to feel affection towards them. I’m still mad at him for what he did, but as I stare at the picture in my hand and wonder how big they’ve gotten over the past few weeks I can’t help feeling blessed that they are there.
“Morning.” Dario kisses my stomach, twice, before crawling up my body and slipping his tongue between my lips.
I don’t respond. I’m still making things difficult for him, and I’m pleasantly surprised at how tolerant he’s been. Maybe he will make a good father after all.
“Did you message Serena back last night?” He looks a little disappointed as he gets out of bed and pulls on his sweatpants.
“No,” I admit, feeling guilty for cutting my family out, the way I have. I just don’t feel like I can face them yet. I’m not ready for people to know about these babies. I don’t want to be congratulated and fussed over, it will make what Dario did seem justifiable to him.
“You should, it's been a long time since we saw them. Your father cares for you very much.”
“Enough to marry me to you,” I point out, pushing his newfound patience a little further.
“You can’t pretend to hate me forever,” he points out heading to the wardrobe and picking me out something to wear.
“I’m not pretending.” I shrug.
“Oh, yes? Well, if you hate me so much, why do you allow me to hold you every night while you sleep? And why do you always look so satisfied after we fuck?” He rests his ass on the desk and gives me that smug look of his.
“Because...” I stand up and move toward him, making sure my lips are close to his but not touching. “I’m your wife, and you always get what you want,” I whisper before picking my own damn clothes out the wardrobe and getting myself changed.
“You can’t just ignore them, they will think I'm mistreating you.” He follows me down the stairs refusing to give up on this and when I spin around and look up at him, the frown he gives me dares me to say what he knows I’m thinking.
“I don’t want to face them yet, and this is getting harder to hide.” I look down at my stomach and even I have to admit that it’s starting to expand. I guess that's what happens when you get railroaded with twins.
“Then don’t hide it.” Dario frames my tiny little bump in his hands proudly. “It looks good on you.” The boyish grin he makes as he stares down at it almost makes me forget that I’m mad at him .
“We spoke about this, it’s our secret while I’m still coming to terms with it.”
“I heard you talking to them.” He’s still grinning when he lifts his eyes back up to mine. “The other night when you were in the bath, I heard you telling them that their father was an overbearing asshole.”
“That's because you are an overbearing asshole, you checked the temperature of that water twice before you let me get in it,” I point out before turning around and continuing down the stairs.
“I didn’t want you getting too hot and passing out.” He chases after me. “It still doesn’t change the fact you were talking to them. You're coming to terms with the fact they are in there, and it’s going to get easier. Soon, you’ll feel them moving around and it will be even more real.”
I don’t tell him that I’ve already felt tiny flutters in the pit of my stomach that I’m sure is the babies reminding me they are there. It’s just in my imagination.
“I’ll speak to my dad and Serena, just not today,” I promise. “ Please don’t pressure me. Stress isn’t good for the spawn of Satan.” I tap my tummy and smile sarcastically before stepping into the dining room.
Greta already has my pancakes waiting for me on the table and I allow Dario to do his morning routine and pour me some juice before he adds his required amount of fruit to my pancakes.
“Are you done?” I ask when he finally takes his own seat.
“And are you done being a brat?” He shakes his head impatiently before picking up his knife and fork and starting on his eggs. I decide to let him be the judge of that.
“Where were you last night?” I question him, it was late when he came home, and I could tell he had a lot on his mind. He didn’t even attempt to have sex with me, which is unheard of.
“Just business, nothing for you to worry about.” He smiles. “How are your pancakes?”
“Same as they are every morning. Delicious. Don’t try and change the subject.”
“Jesus, Madalina. I’m just trying to enjoy breakfast with you!” He loses his temper, which only confirms that what happened last night is still in his head.
“Did you kill someone?” I ask, dropping my fork.
“No, I didn’t fucking kill anybody. Not last night anyway… If you must know, I was with my father.”
“You never told me you were seeing your father.” I can’t imagine why seeing his father would make him so on edge.
“I wanted to tell him about the babies.” He shrugs.
“And was he happy?” My hand instinctively touches over my stomach as if I need to protect them and when Dario notices, he rests his hand over mine and smiles.
“Yes, he was happy, very happy,” he assures me.
“Then why are you being so tense? You didn’t even want to fuck me when you got home.”
“Because you were sleeping and you need your rest.”
“I was pretending to sleep, and it’s never stopped you before,” I answer flatly, starting to get frustrated, which these days seems to happen a lot more frequently than I remember.
“Look, we got into an argument, okay?” He retracts his hand and picks up his coffee. “Dad wants me to start taking over more of his responsibilities and I told him that you were my priority right now.” I can see how hard it is for him to admit it and I try extra hard to stop the smile from lifting on my lips when I hear him say that we are his priority. I shouldn’t like how that sounds as much as I do, given the fact I still hate him. But my thoughts and feelings seem to be out of my control since I became pregnant.
“You really said that?” I check, knowing how important his family and its legacy is to him.
“I promised to take care of you, didn't I?”
“So, now your dad hates me because I’m the reason you won’t do what he wants? I bet he regrets that decision he made to choose me as your wife, now.” I laugh as I stuff my face some more.
“No.” Dario frowns and shakes his head. “He was happy about the babies, he sends his congratulations, and says he will have his priest pray for two healthy sons.”
“Your father has a priest?” I almost choke on a blueberry.
“Yes, our family have a priest,” he confirms.
“He must have his work cut out.” I wriggle my eyebrows at him.
“You should watch your mouth, Mrs. DeMarco, or I might have to cleanse it.” He reaches across the table to kiss me, and I’m almost considering letting him, but he stops when the door bursts open and Vito rushes in.
“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but there's something you need to know.” I notice the way his eyes are flicking between Dario and me, and I don’t like it at all.
“What is it?” I ask, standing up before Dario has the chance to speak.
“Sir, with all respect, I think it’s best–”
“What is it?” I repeat, already getting a cold shiver down my spine. Dario looks a little wary but he still nods his head and permits him to speak.
“It’s Mr. Conte.” His guard swallows thickly. “He was murdered last night.”
“ NO! ” I hear what he says and suddenly lose all the strength in my legs, Dario manages to catch me before I hit the ground; and as I shake my head, refusing to believe what I just heard, he holds it tight to his chest.
“Who did this?” he asks.
“We don’t know, we only just got word of it, boss.”
“Where’s Nic and Serena? I have to go to them.” I quickly pull together some strength when I realize they could be in danger.
“They are at home. They have men with them,” Vito assures me.
“No! My father can’t be dead.” I start to sob and when Dario wraps his arms tightly around me and tells me to breathe, I realize that I’m hyperventilating.
“Who would do this?” I push him away when I start to feel suffocated.
“Madalina, you must think about the babies,” His hand strokes my stomach, as my heart continues to feel crushed. “I will find out who did this and take care of it. In the meantime, you must rest.”
“Rest?” I stare at him as if he’s mad. “Dario, my family need me.”
“So do they.” His hands continue to stroke my tiny little bump and the fact he’s right makes me want to punch him.
“I’m going to them.” I push him away and storm toward the door and when he pulls me back I shock myself and his guard enough to gasp when I spin around and slap his face. Dario, however, fails to respond, he just stares at the ground with a tense jaw and a murderous look in his eyes. I’ve pushed him too far, I don’t even think the babies I’m carrying can protect me from what he wants to do.
“Vito, get a car ready to take us to the Conte home.” He surprises me when he takes a breath and walks past me, out the door.
Despite what happened back at the house, Dario holds my hand for the whole car journey to my father’s house and when we arrive he nods at the guard standing by the door and permits me to enter first.
“Madalina!” Serena gets up from the couch where she’s being consoled by one of her friends and races toward me, squeezing me tight and soaking my shoulder with her tears.
“I am sorry for your loss.” Dario lowers his head at my brother, who looks broken. His eyes are sunken and hollow, and I can already tell that he’s blaming himself for this.
He ignores Dario’s words and storms out of the room, leaving me to comfort Serena while wondering who could have done this.
I’m told that they took my father’s body to the mortuary for a post-mortem, and just thinking about him being alone in such a cold, sterile place makes me want to cry. Dario allows me my space while we’re at the house, he even offers for Serena to come and stay with us, but she refuses. She insists that she won’t be driven from her home out of fear, and as much as I commend her for that, I wish she wouldn’t be so stubborn.
It’s late when we arrive back home. I feel numb inside and my eyes are sore from all the tears I’ve cried. Dario has spent a lot of the day on his cell phone, trying to find out who’s responsible for what happened. While I constantly worry about my brother. Nic has a short temper and I know his need for revenge will outweigh his ability to be sensible.
“I’ll have Greta bring you something to eat,” Dario tells me as we walk through the door and he slides my jacket off my shoulders to hang it up.
“I don’t want to eat. I don’t think I could, and please don’t tell me the babies need it. I know they do and this is not me punishing you. I just don’t want to fucking eat, right now.” I tell him in a harsh tone that holds no patience.
“Okay.” He nods his head and shocks me when he places a delicate kiss on my forehead.
“Will you at least try to get some rest? I want to focus on who did this and I can’t if I’m worrying about you.”
I nod my head in agreement, managing a tiny smile for him before I head up the stairs and try to get some sleep. I must manage to drift off because I’m stirred awake when I hear the bedroom door open. I listen to his footsteps as he makes his way to the other side of the bed and feel nothing but comfort when he slides under the covers and wraps me up with his body.
“I think I’ve felt them,” I admit, suddenly feeling bad for keeping it from him, which is ironic considering the circumstances that got me into this condition.
“Felt them?” When I turn around to face him he’s looking confused.
“The babies. I get this flutter from time to time, around here.” I take his hand and place it on my lower stomach because I’m starting to like the way it feels there.
“It’s too faint for you to feel it too, but it’s definitely something.”
“Do you not think that's kind of awesome?” He smiles, and for the first time since I first saw him, he doesn’t look like a dangerous crime lord at all. He looks like a normal guy who's excited to become a father.
“I guess,” I admit, unable to hide my own smile at the thought of it. I need to focus on something good after such a miserable day.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” he tells me softly with his eyes full of compassion.
“Will you kill the person who did it?” I ask.
“Do you want me to?” He frowns .
“Yes,” I answer his question without thought or hesitation.
“Then I’ll kill him.” He nods like it’s just that simple. I guess for him, it is.
“Thank you,” I whisper before turning back on my side and trying to to sleep again.