Chapter 22 #2
He stills, lifting his head to stare down at me, surprise flashing across his face. In all these years, this is the first time I’ve brought it up. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and now, in this moment, I have no doubt—I want another baby with Tony.
“Give me a son,” I breathe, touching his cheek. “With your black hair…your eyes.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a proud smirk.
Pulling out completely, he thrusts back in with such force that I feel him at the very core of me, and a loud moan tears from my throat.
Between the sound of our bodies colliding, he bites down on my lip and murmurs, “Anything you want, princess. I’ll fuck you every night until you’re carrying my son. Promise.”
He claims me completely, driving me higher and higher until the world narrows to nothing but him. I lose count of how many times he pushes me to the brink, bringing me over the edge again and again, until he finally comes inside me.
By the time my last cry fades, the sky outside has lightened to soft gray.
***
I put on a pair of cream-colored straight-leg pants with a white blouse, tie my hair into a ponytail, and step out of the room. Antonia sits beside her father in her favorite pink puffy dress, chatting away in that sweet voice of hers.
When she spots me, her little legs move faster as she rushes toward me, shouting with excitement. “Mommy! Daddy said he’s getting me a real pony! Just for me!”
I run my hand through her hair, smiling warmly. “That’s wonderful news, my darling. You’ll grow up side by side.”
She giggles, jumping up and down. “We’ll be best friends!”
“Sweetheart, animals aren’t exactly friends the same way people are,” I say gently.
Her brows knit together as she crosses her arms, the wheels in her head clearly turning. I can tell she’s trying to figure it out.
“How about you go grab your bag and think about it on the way?” I suggest, stroking her hair again.
That lights her up, and she bolts to her room with renewed energy.
Once she’s gone, I walk over to Tony, who’s now standing. “Are you ready?”
His expression darkens instantly. “Rafael just called. They spotted the Black Souls’ leader in Illinois. I leave now, I might finally put a bullet in that son of a bitch.”
I don’t interfere much with Tony’s work, but I know the Black Souls are the group that causes him the most trouble. Every time he crushes them, they reappear somewhere else, like weeds that refuse to die.
“This is my chance to cut the head off the snake.”
“Then you have to go, babe.”
“But what about Antonia?”
“I’ve told you before, these parent-teacher meetings for a four-year-old aren’t that serious. Even the invitation mentioned that one parent’s presence is enough. Besides, you didn’t promise Antonia you’d be there.”
He nods reluctantly.
“Did you promise her a pony because you feel guilty?” I tease, grabbing his lapel.
He stifles a laugh and only nods. This time, I burst out laughing and rest my head against his chest.
“Do you realize how much you’re spoiling her?”
His voice is firm, almost commanding. “Why the hell not? She’s Antonio Bruni’s daughter. The world needs to learn exactly what kind of respect she deserves.”
“You mean all the boys who are going to date her?”
He inhales so deeply that my head rises and falls with his breathing. “No one is ever going to date my daughter.”
I chuckle under my breath, saying nothing, because I know his anger is real. Even the slightest mention of Antonia’s romantic future pisses him off, and sometimes I honestly worry he’ll send her to a convent.
Antonia approaches us with her cheerful cherry-colored backpack. her little brows pull together the second she sees us hugging.
“Daddy, you promised!”
Tony bends down, lifts her into his arms without letting go of me, and plants a firm kiss on her cheek.
“I always keep my promises, sweetheart. You know I love you more than anything in the world.”
She looks at him with the kind of assertiveness only a child can muster. “Even more than Mommy?”
Tony glances at me with a gaze full of tenderness. He looks into my eyes for a long moment, and when I smile at him, he returns it with a warm smile that fills my heart with love all over again.
“Even more than Mommy,” he says.
***
The moment we step inside the building, Antonia spots one of her friends and dashes off. From across the hallway, her teacher welcomes her with a warm smile and gives me a small nod.
I spot the sign for the parent meeting area and start toward it when a polite voice stops me. “Ma’am, please enter through this gate.”
That’s when I notice the new security gate—metal detector, conveyor belt, the whole airport-style setup. It definitely wasn’t here before. I glance back at my three bodyguards, all of them heavily armed. Tony’s name has always been enough to get us through without questions. Until now.
“These men are my security detail,” I say calmly. “Their weapons are fully licensed.”
“Ma’am,” the young guard replies politely, “after everything that’s been happening lately, we’ve put a strict no-weapons policy in place. It’s for the safety of all the kids, including your daughter.”
It makes sense on paper. But we’ve been here plenty of times before, and no one has ever asked Tony, or us, to disarm.
One of my bodyguards clearly has the same thought. His deep voice cuts in. “Why wasn’t this policy here before?”
The guard stays perfectly calm. “One of the kids killed in last week’s school shooting in Illinois was the director’s nephew. It hit him hard, so he decided to tighten security.”
“You should’ve given the parents a heads-up about this,” my bodyguard grumbles.
Just then, Angela, Adam’s mom, arrives. We exchange quick, polite hellos before she sets her bag on the conveyor belt and walks through the gate without any trouble. Watching how relaxed she is makes me wonder if I’m overreacting.
I turn to my lead bodyguard. “Collect their weapons and wait outside.”
They aren’t happy. Thick necks tense, jaws tight, they shoot uneasy glances around the hallway.
In the end, they dig in their heels. “We need Mr. Bruni’s approval first.”
Neither Tony nor Rafael answers their phones. After several minutes of my persistent grumbling, my bodyguards finally give in with reluctant sighs.
I step into the meeting room and let out a small breath of relief at all the familiar faces. I slip into an empty chair among the other mothers. Only one father sits among us; the rest are mothers. In an adjacent room, the director and the children’s teacher meet with parents one-on-one.
When my turn comes, I walk in with my two bodyguards right behind me, solid and reassuring.
Instead of Mrs. Robinson and Emma, a massive man in an expensive tailored suit sits behind the desk.
His shoulders strain against the fabric, and his face looks like it belongs in a dark alley, not a preschool.
He rises with a pleasant smile and extends his hand. I shake it and take the seat across from him, while my bodyguards remain standing behind me.
He picks up a thick notebook. The thin glasses look strangely out of place on his brutal face.
“I was expecting Mrs. Robinson and Emma,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
His voice comes out low and gravelly. “Yes, Mrs. Bruni. I’m Robert Bennett, a child behavior specialist. I needed to speak with you privately. Mrs. Robinson and Emma will see you right after our meeting.”
My stomach tightens. “Has something happened with Antonia?”
He sets his glasses down, expression turning grave. “Unfortunately, yes. We’ve noticed some concerning traits in your daughter’s behavior, traits that could cause real problems for her later.”
Tension shoots through me. I lean forward a little. “Please just tell me what’s going on, Mr. Bennett. You’re starting to scare me.”
He holds my gaze, eyes cold and unreadable, as he casually slides open the desk drawer.
“No need to worry, Mrs. Bruni,” he says, his voice eerily calm. “Your daughter’s only problem is her treacherous parents. But don’t worry…we’ll take care of that.”
Before the words even sink in, his hand whips up from under the desk. Two muffled pops. Both my bodyguards drop instantly.
My breath catches in my throat. My body freezes, my eyes go wide with shock. Something warm drips down my cheek. I reach up and touch my face, my fingers come away slick with blood.
A shadow falls over me. I look up, just as a sharp sting pierces the side of my neck. A needle.
My arms and legs turn to lead. The room blurs, my eyelids too heavy to fight. As everything fades, a low voice brushes my ear.
“This is from Carlo Bruni.”