Chapter Thirty-One Ella
Chapter Thirty-One
Ella
Tiero calls out, and Santino opens the cabin door to let Dr. Agosti enter before closing it from the outside.
Tiero stands to make room for the doctor, positioning himself at the end of the bed where he can observe everything.
“Signorina O’Neil, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Dr. Agosti says, setting down his bag on the bedside table.
I sit up, taking off my jacket and boots. Unsure of what to do next, I watch him as he opens his bag.
Does he know I’m pregnant? Should I tell him? I still can’t get my head around the fact that Tiero knows.
I draw shallow breaths, my chest so tight I can’t seem to take in enough air.
How on earth did he find out? But more importantly, what does that mean for Peanut’s and my future?
Tiero won’t let us go now, is he?
God, I’m dizzy just thinking about the consequences, my hands and feet tingling.
“Signor De Marco informed me of your pregnancy and your earlier fainting spell,” Dr. Agosti says, momentarily halting the panic wanting to take root.
Of course Tiero would have told him. He leaves nothing to chance.
From the corner of my eye, I see Tiero’s jaw tighten. Just briefly. His gaze flicks to me, sharp with concern, before his expression smooths back into something unreadable.
“Has this happened before?” the doctor asks.
I shake my head. I’m not going to admit to anyone that it was a ruse.
“No. I just suddenly felt lightheaded, and then… well, I fainted.”
Dr. Agosti nods, pulling a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from his bag. He checks my pulse and other vitals, methodically recording the readings in his notebook.
“How far along are you?” he asks.
“September third was the conception date,” Tiero supplies, his gaze lifting to mine.
For a split second, the mask slips.
His pupils darken, hunger flashing through his eyes as memory stirs between us.
Yeah, what a night.
It was one for the ages, and not just because we made Peanut.
There was so much love between us then, so much hope. All of it wiped away the very next morning.
The fact that Tiero knows exactly when he knocked me up is just more proof that it wasn’t accidental.
I try to summon the old anger, but it doesn’t come. I’ve already made peace with Peanut’s presence in my life.
Truth be told, I’m looking forward to having her. I can’t imagine my life without her now.
“So it’s early days,” Dr. Agosti says, continuing his examination. “Any nausea, fatigue, or other issues?”
“I’ve been tired, and there’s some mild nausea at times, but it’s manageable.”
I glance at Tiero, searching his face for a reaction, but his expression has settled back into neutral. Apart from those few seconds of desire, his practiced indifference has returned the moment the doctor entered the room.
Dr. Agosti examines my abdomen, his touch professional and measured.
“Your vitals seem stable. But given the fainting episode, I’d like to run some tests as soon as possible.”
“Is that really necessary? It’s just been a stressful afternoon.”
“As you are under a fair amount of stress, it’s essential to monitor both your health and the baby’s closely.”
Wow, he doesn’t even pretend my situation is ideal.
It could all be helped if Tiero left me alone. But that’s wishful thinking.
Dr. Agosti’s gaze lingers on my hands and feet. He takes them gently, checking their temperature.
“Your extremities are quite cold. How long has this been happening?”
“I’ve always had cold hands and feet,” I say. “But it’s more noticeable since I arrived in Canada. I assumed it was the weather, combined with the pregnancy.”
His brow furrows slightly.
“Cold extremities can indicate circulation changes, which aren’t uncommon during pregnancy. But they can also point to mineral or vitamin deficiencies. You’re also paler than when I last saw you. I’ll note it for further evaluation.”
Tiero looks at me, his worry unmistakable now. “Is that something to be concerned about?”
“It doesn’t necessarily signal a serious issue,” Dr. Agosti replies, “but we’ll monitor your wife’s health closely to ensure everything progresses as it should.”
Wife?
My eyes widen.
No. Absolutely not.
I am not marrying Gualtiero De Marco and surrendering myself to a life where every choice is made for me. There’s no way I’m returning to that golden cage.
Uh-uh, not going to happen.
I open my mouth to correct him, then close it again.
I need to pick my battles. Wasting energy on a man I’ll likely never see again, if I have any say in it, isn’t worth it.
As he packs up his equipment, Dr. Agosti turns to Tiero. “We should run those tests before returning to Sicily. It’s best to fully assess your wife’s health and ensure she’s fit for air travel.”
There it is again.
I grit my teeth, pressing my lips together to stop myself from snapping.
With a respectful nod, the doctor exits the cabin, leaving us alone.
Silence settles over the room. The soft crackle of logs in the fireplace fills the space, flames casting slow, dancing shadows along the walls.
I can’t hold it in any longer.
“Why did he keep calling me your wife?” I bite out. “He addressed me as Miss O’Neil at first. He clearly knows we’re not married.”
Tiero sits down at the end of the bed, leaving a careful distance between us. I’m grateful for the restraint. His closeness still wreaks havoc on my body.
“He’s assuming that’s what will happen,” he says calmly.
I grunt. “You could have corrected him.”
“I didn’t want to.” His gaze is steady. “I want to marry you. I always have. And now more than ever. Our child won’t be born out of wedlock.”
“Oh. That’s right,” I say, bitterness creeping into my voice. “You don’t want anyone questioning the legitimacy of your offspring.”
I reach for the blanket and draw it around myself, suddenly colder than before.
“So how did you figure out I was pregnant?” I press. “Was it a lucky guess? Or blind faith in yourself as a stud?”
That earns a soft chuckle.
“I was hopeful,” he admits. “You already know that. But no, it wasn’t a guess. I found the pregnancy test in the suitcase you left behind on the ship in Halifax.”
Oh.
I’d forgotten I’d kept it, a foolish little memento. It never crossed my mind that he might find it.
“You can’t imagine how happy I am,” he says, scooting closer and reaching for my hand.
I pull it away.
“Of course you are,” I accuse. “You did this on purpose. You took away my birth control, and then you just happened to forget a condom.”
“You forgot too,” he counters. “We got carried away.”
I glare at him. He can’t possibly expect me to believe that.
He exhales slowly. “When I first brought you to my home—”
“When you kidnapped me,” I interrupt.
His eyes flash, irritation flickering across his face.
“As I said,” he continues evenly, “when I first brought you to my home, I believed getting you pregnant would help you settle in, accept our life together. I never hid that I wanted a family with you. That’s why I took your pills.”
He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes searching mine.
“But that night?” His voice lowers. “Condoms were the last thing on my mind. I’d almost lost you. First with Molinaro, then when you spun out in that Formula One car. I was terrified. And then you were finally letting me back in. Giving us another chance.”
He holds my gaze, unwavering.
“Do you honestly think I’d jeopardize that?”