Chapter 36
Ethan
Gino stares back at me from my laptop, his pale blue eyes twinkling in humor, hair up in his signature bun. “Ethan! Where the flipping hell have you been, asshole! We’ve been shitting ourselves here trying to get a pin on you; is our ass flapping in the wind or what?”
For a mafia kingpin, Gino is actually very likable, with the most infectious smile, and boisterous laughter. I was saddened to discover that under all of that beats…nothing. An almost eerie absence of human sentiment.
This near-psychopathy makes him able to hold the underbellies of New York in a ruthlessly powerful, iron fist.
When I confronted him, he confessed it’s not that he can’t empathize or feel. He just can’t afford to. He suffers remorse but can never show it to his people. Which is why he says he likes to keep friends like me around him. Friends that he doesn’t have to be the Capo around.
“I’ve been in hell, Gino. But I’m back. I told you this last week when I checked in.”
The past three weeks have been the worst in my life.
My meeting in Berlin went well enough. It was in Munich that everything crashed, and things went further south from there.
Halfway through the stem cell transplant, with my eyeballs numbed and eyelids spread wide open, the surgeon offered me a choice of converting to a general anesthetic or potentially losing my sight.
The panic attack that followed took the choice out of my hands. They decided to put me under. What should have lasted three hours ended up taking six.
My dad, as my next of kin, had to be informed while I was under full anesthesia, and by the time I came to, Elsa had driven from Prague to get me. Beyond that, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings, thanks to being exceptionally high from the cocktail of drugs floating in my bloodstream.
I woke up the following morning to eye patches and screaming babies, and to my utmost horror, Elsa informed me that I was banned from flying. I had to laugh at how ridiculous that notion was, but she assured me that unless I was prepared to drive or sail to New York, I was stuck in her house for two weeks.
“You still didn’t check in for a whole week!” Gino says. “That’s never happened before. What’s a man supposed to fucking think? I still needed to see you in person. You know I care about you.”
I scoff. No, Gino. You’d shoot me in a heartbeat if I crossed you.
Still he’s the most dependable person I know. Gino does not break his word. Although, he doesn’t give it without a price. If he commits to protecting you, rest assured, no harm can befall you without first crossing him.
But fail to uphold your end of the deal, and the consequences are swift and lethal—a bullet between the eyes. It’s as straightforward as that.
“Tell everyone to calm down; your ass is not, in fact, flapping in the wind, Gino. I’ve got it all under control. There’s no leak or access to any information from your end, and all your transactions are safe. Well, those that I know of.”
“Okay, thanks to you, I’m going to start breathing easier now.”
I roll my eyes. He’s got several layers of security, I’m sure I’m not the only person he has working for him. He just likes to keep tabs on everyone.
“Gino, how come I went off your radar for a whole week and you couldn’t locate me? Are you saying your security isn’t airtight, and I could have slipped through your fingers? Or be kidnapped? Because if it isn’t, you do know you’re fucked seven ways from hell, right?”
“My security is airtight. It’s your house that’s a fucking impregnable fortress, you little shit. And don’t think I don’t hear that threat.”
“What threat? You scratch my back—“
“Yeah, yeah, you suck my dick, I know.” He guffaws at my disgusted expression. “Alright, then, all’s good in Wonderland. Gotta go. Give Bonnie a nice, wet kiss for me, will you?”
“Fuck off, Gino.”
“What? That’s how we Italians say hello,” he claims.
“She’s Irish.”
“She’s fucking family, is what she is.”
“Whatever. Thanks, I owe you one.”
“You always owe me one. Ciao.”
And that’s another way Giovanni rules New York. Everyone owes him something.
I shut down the laptop and grab the glass of scotch next to me.
Bonnie is pregnant. And she ran to Vancouver with my baby because she thought I wouldn’t want it. I thought I had done enough to reassure Bonnie that I love her more than anything. It rankles that apparently I’d not done enough. Or she’s too thick-headed to accept what is plain as day.
I should have asked her to marry me. But I couldn’t ask her without letting her know what she’d be signing up for. And a part of me worried she’d take a look and bolt, and I admit I wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Now, she’s pregnant.
When I finally had the eyepatches off two days after my Munich procedure and looked at my phone, I saw several messages from her, each sent with an increasing degree of panic. I saw her messages about wanting to talk about going to see her mom and not being sure it was the right thing to do.
I was shocked that within two days, without prior planning, she’d gone to Ireland to see her mom and then Vancouver.
But nothing could have prepared me for her final message.
Bonnie: Hey, Harvard, I’ve decided to take Xi-Gen’s offer and move to Vancouver. I’ve had some time to think about us, and I don’t think it’ll work out. I ask that you respect my wishes not to be contacted. It’s better this way. No mess, just the way you like it, right? Thanks for everything you’ve done and taught me. I’ll never forget you.
I was numb with shock and disbelief for the first few hours, and then anger surged within me. There I was, taking the biggest steps to overcome my darkness, for her, and she’s busy running around the globe away from me.
What is it about that Ireland that every fucking time she goes there, something twists her up, and I end up getting screwed over? She went to see her mom, and next thing I know, she’d taken off halfway across the world.
The way I like it? I’ll show her the way I like it once I get my hands on her.
I resolved to wait until I had the all clear to travel, but two days later, I got a colorful voice note from someone I can only assume was Twiggy.I wonder if the guy thinks I’m blind which was why he sent a voice note first. The text followed after a few minutes
Voice note, Anonymous: “Bonnie’s carrying yer child, ye fuckin’ gobshite. She’s mad crazy about ye, but ye’ve no right to even share the same sky with her. Now, ye don’t have to wed her, seeing as how ye have yer own lass, but ye best be minding her. Fuckin’ eejit.”
I got the gist of the Irishman’s rant. And then, it all made sense why she ran.
She’s pregnant.
We’ve never talked about babies, so she thinks I’ll freak out.
Within a few hours, I’m airborne, much to Elsa’s and Kane’s, her husband, horrified pleas. My dad back in Connecticut also got wind of the situation and was roaring threats about me daring to get on that eleven-hour flight. In the end, it was no use.
Within a couple of hours of being airborne, though, my eyes started to hurt. In another couple of hours, it was clear that the plane needed to do an emergency landing.
I asked for Jordan to be told rather than my dad. My friend is a lot of things, but he’s phenomenal in a crisis. By the time we landed, my eyes were like pools of liquid fire, and I couldn’t see a thing.
Jordan already had the Munich team in the air and on their way to New York by the time I was wheeled into the hospital, and this time, I was longing for the blessed relief of being knocked unconscious by the anaesthesia for a second operation to correct the damage I’d done by getting onto the pressurized aircraft before I was cleared to go.
Now, I’m well and truly stuck in New York for a few more weeks. Which only makes me angrier.
The second surgery was successful, and much to everyone’s relief, I didn’t lose what vision I had left. Some of the progress in terms of improved eyesight was lost, but my sight right now is still much better than before I started having the stem cell transplant.
I returned to the office two days ago and have just started working my way back to my usual long hours, but being a Saturday morning, I was catching up with Gino’s security and combing the web for anything on him that others might have missed.
My phone rings, and I pick up to see it’s Jordan.
“Hey, man, are you here yet?” He wanted to come over today to check on me, even though I don’t need it.
“Just pulling up the drive. Bree’s here as well.” Jordan replies.
“Really? She didn’t have to come.”
“Try telling that to my very pregnant, very determined wife. She wants to see you, man. Plus, she heard Elsa’s twins are here.”
A picture of Bonnie, swollen with my child and barking orders, flashes before my eyes, and my heart twists painfully. I’d give anything to see that. Christ, I need that woman back from where she’s been holing up.
I go and let them into the house. Catching a glimpse of Sabrina’s belly, the smile freezes on my face. Wasn’t it just a month ago I last saw her? Her belly seems like she’s shoved a huge watermelon in it.
“Good gracious, Ethan, the twins don’t do tricks yet,” she snaps as she passes by me. I close my mouth.
Jordan raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “Don’t mess with her,” he says under his breath.
“Noted.”
Once we’re settled, with Sabrina curled on the sofa with a glass of sweet tea, she begins. “Ethan, I know you can’t travel. But someone has got to do something. Is Bonnie even okay?” She dabs at a tear collecting at the corner of her eye. “Sorry, I’m so emotional right now.”
Jordan adds, “Brooke mentioned something about Bonnie’s mom. Is everything alright back home?”
“I would—“ I begin, but Sabrina interrupts.
“I mean, why would Bonnie just leave like that? She’d just been telling us how in love with you she was, Ethan. And, all of a sudden, she’s gone without even speaking to us, her friends. And she’s not answering her calls or responding to messages.” She dissolves into sobs, and Jordan gathers her into his arms.
“Bonnie—“ I start but don’t get far.
“She’s the twins’ godmother, and they’re due anytime now. What the hell did you do to her, Ethan? She was so terrified of getting hurt.”
“I only—“
“Bonnie keeps her heart in a freaking fortress, and she managed to let you in, and somehow, you’ve hurt her. That’s the only reason she’d run so far. Ethan—“
“She’s pregnant, Sabrina,” I blurt out when I can finally get a word in.
“What?”
If I thought that would somehow pacify her as an explanation, I was wrong because she launches into fresh sobs.
Jordan holds her while he looks at me in shock.
“That’s why she ran. She found out she was pregnant while in Dublin. I can only imagine she thought I wouldn’t want the baby. We were okay before my surgery, and the next thing I knew, I was in Prague and I was reading a breakup text from her.”
“She told you she’s pregnant?” Sabrina asks, dabbing the tissue that Jordan hands her against her face.
“No, she didn’t. But she has a friend in Dublin who texted me a few days after she’d left for Vancouver.” Actually he I haven’t read the whole if the text. It sounded the same as the voice note
“Let me see that text.” I bring it up and pass my phone to her.
She stares at it for a long while. Then, she takes her phone out and snaps a picture of the text.
“Ethan, how are your eyes?” I’m surprised that she switched topics so suddenly. “I mean, you can read okay now?”
“Yes, fairly well, thanks.”
She downs her sweet tea and suddenly motions to Jordan to help her up.
“Baby?” he asks.
“We’re leaving.”
“What? We just got here.”
And you’ve just been sobbing your eyes out. I add silently. “Don’t you want to see Elsa and the boys?”
Elsa and Kane were spending the week at my house since both of them had been worried sick after I left Prague on that dreadful flight.
“We’re going to Brooke’s house, and we’ll pick up Stella on the way,” Sabrina orders.
“What in the hell is going on, Sabrina?” I’m starting to panic now. Must be the pregnancy hormones driving her crazy. Jordan only looks resigned, not even batting an eyelash.
“What’s going on, Ethan, is that Stella will be going to Vancouver to drag that girl’s ass back here. Because I’m not having these babies if she’s not here. I suggest you find a way to keep said ass nailed here because we’re only doing this once.”
“We recommend you marry her,” Jordan adds. “And by the way, all the executives approve. I’ve even heard a few whispers of Zeus and Hera. Not that I know what that means, of course.”
Jordan throws the last bit behind his back as they leave me stunned and confused and still staring after Sabrina, who seems to have been invaded by an alien.