Isabella
I wake to sunlight warming my face and my sheets tangled around me.
The night before comes rushing back. How I seduced Alessandro in his office.
How hours later, he came to bed and did the most delicious things to my body.
But it wasn’t just the sex. Something had changed.
I was sure of it. We’ve been married three weeks, and what I believed would be a life of misery is slowly becoming a real marriage.
Rolling onto my side, I stretch my arm across the bed where Alessandro sleeps. The sheets are cool. He’s probably been up for hours. No surprise there. Alessandro’s first priority is the business.
I slide from the bed when a sudden wave of nausea washes over me.
"Not again," I moan, pressing my hand to my stomach.
This is the third morning in a row that I've woken up feeling sick.
Yesterday's breakfast of toast and eggs triggered a violent retching that had me hunched over the toilet for half an hour.
The day before, even the scent of Alessandro's coffee had sent me running from our bedroom.
But by midday, it’s gone and I feel normal, so it can’t be the flu. And if it’s day after day, it can’t be food poisoning, right?
"Signora?" Elena's voice comes through the door after a knock. "Would you like your breakfast now?"
The mere thought of food sends another wave crashing through me. "Not yet, Elena. Thank you."
I make my way to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I reach for my hairbrush, then pause as realization strikes me.
When was my last period?
I set the brush down and mentally count backward. I've always been regular, predictable to the day, but apparently, not anymore.
"Five weeks," I say to my reflection in the mirror.
Five weeks since my last period.
My heart pounds at the possibility. Could it be…? And then I roll my eyes at myself. Of course it could be. From the night on the rooftop terrace to Capri to even last night, Alessandro has never used a condom.
A baby.
Panic strikes as I remember Alessandro saying he didn’t want kids. Does that mean he expected me to be on birth control?
I sink onto the edge of the bathtub at a loss for what to do. Whether he wants this baby, it’s here. It’s not like I can hide it. Still, maybe something else is going on. I need to know for certain before I say anything to Alessandro. Then I can prepare myself for whatever his reaction might be.
I shower and dress, and as I do, I can’t help a feeling of joy blossoming over the idea of a child. A baby. A family of my own. Something no one, not my father, not my brother, not even Alessandro, can take from me.
I need to get a test, but how can I get one without everyone finding out? Alessandro has men watching me constantly, he says for safety, especially after the assassination attempt. It’s not that I don’t believe him, but I also suspect it’s because he still doesn't trust me.
I can't have one of the staff get it as they’d tell Alessandro. And I certainly can't ask Eva, though I've grown closer to her. She’d be obliged to tell Adriano, who’d tell Alessandro.
Maybe I can plan a shopping trip. There are a few things I need. My guards are attentive, but they don’t necessarily hover.
Once I’m ready, I go downstairs. "I'd like to go shopping this afternoon," I announce to Gino, the head of security.
He nods, already speaking into his radio to arrange my escort.
When we finally arrive at the boutique conveniently located next to a drugstore, my guards take their positions outside as expected.
"I'll be about an hour," I tell them.
They nod.
Inside, I greet the saleswoman and select a few dresses to try on. But instead of heading to the dressing rooms, I casually mention, "I just remembered I need to pick up something at the pharmacy next door. Can you hold these for me? I'll be right back to try them on."
“Of course, Mrs. Dante. I’ll put them in your usual changing room.”
“Thank you.”
As she puts the dresses in the dressing room, I slip out the side door and hurry into the drug store. I scan the aisles, quickly finding the pregnancy tests. I grab three different brands, wanting to be absolutely certain, and pay in cash from my allowance to avoid any record.
I tuck the bag into my purse and return to the boutique, where I try on several dresses. I find a cute shimmery cocktail dress and decide to buy it even though it’s possible it will be over a year before I can wear it if I’m pregnant.
I emerge from the shop holding up my bag. “Success.”
My guards escort me to the car and drive me back to the compound.
Once in the house, I hurry to the bedroom and lock myself into the bathroom.
I unwrap all the tests, carefully reading the instructions.
Three to five minutes. That's all it takes to know if my life is about to change forever.
I follow the instructions meticulously, using all three tests at once and then placing them on the counter. I set the timer on my phone.
The minutes feel like hours.
I sit on the edge of the tub and close my eyes. A baby. The thought sends a flutter of excitement through me even as I’m terrified Alessandro will be unhappy.
I push that thought away and instead picture a nursery down the hall. Walls painted a buttery yellow. A hand-carved crib. I imagine sitting in a rocking chair singing lullabies to the tiny body cradled in my arms. A little boy with Alessandro's gray eyes, or perhaps a daughter.
Would Alessandro read bedtime stories? I smile, imagining his deep voice softening as he reads to our child. Would he teach our son to tie his shoes? Would he melt at the sight of his daughter's first smile?
I don’t allow myself to think of him as distant like my father. Of seeing our child as an asset instead of a part of him to love.
If the test is positive, I'll tell him tonight. I'll have the chef prepare his favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine. No, wait—I can't drink wine, and it’s not because I’m only eighteen. I laugh at my mistake as I adjust to the idea of motherhood.
I'll light candles instead. Maybe I’ll wear my new dress. I'll wait until he's relaxed, then place his hand on my stomach and tell him he's going to be a father. That we're going to be a family.
My phone buzzes. Time's up.
I rise to my feet, suddenly terrified. What if I'm wrong? What if this is just a virus, and I've built this elaborate fantasy for nothing? Or what if I’m right, but Alessandro gets angry? What if he withdraws from me again?
Taking a deep breath, I pick up the test prepared to face whatever truth awaits.
PREGNANT
"Oh, my God.”
I grab the second test, needing confirmation. PREGNANT.
I turn to the third.
I press my hands to my mouth, trying to contain a joyful sob. A baby.
For the first time in my life, I feel completely, utterly whole. I’ll have someone to love fully. Someone who’ll love me back.
I wrap the tests in the bag and toss them in the trash, covering up the bag with tissues, hoping the staff won’t notice when they empty the garbage.
Then I move to the bedroom and curl up on the window seat with my phone, scrolling through images of nursery designs. I save website URLs of designs in my notes. Then I start a list of what I’ll need. Cotton onesies. A state-of-the-art baby monitor. The safest car seat money can buy.
I research Italian names that would honor Alessandro's heritage while adding names that simply sound beautiful. Matteo. No, Valentina’s son is Matteo. Georgio. Or maybe Romeo or Niccolo for a boy. Maybe he will want to name his son after his father, Lorenzo.
And a girl… Sofia. Or maybe Giuliana.
I close my eyes, hand resting on my stomach, and allow myself to imagine Alessandro holding our baby. He would be protective, I have no doubt. I imagine teaching our child to swim in the summer, building snowmen in winter. Creating family traditions I never had growing up.
We'll need to hire a nanny, I add to my list. But not one who takes over completely. I want to be there for every milestone. First smile, first steps, first words. I want Alessandro there too.
A warmth spreads through me. A fierce love, not just for the baby growing inside me but for Alessandro too. For the family I know we can become. Yes, he’s still reserved in his feelings, still guarded in his trust. But this baby will change that, I’m sure. He’ll see that I’m fully a Dante.
As the day goes on, I’m more eager to see Alessandro and share the news. I’ve talked to the staff saying I want a special dinner for him.
But then dinner time comes and passes with no communication from Alessandro explaining why he’s late or when he’ll be home. Is he okay? Did something happen?
When Adriano gets home, I give him a moment to greet Eva and Mirabella and imagine that it will be me and Alessandro and our child in nine months.
I descend the stairs. “I had a dinner made for Alessandro. Will he be home soon?”
Adriano gives me a sympathetic smile. “You know him. Burning the candle from both ends.”
I smile to hide my disappointment. “Then you and Eva and Mirabella should have the dinner.”
“Oh, no.” Eva shakes her head. “We can’t—”
“Please. I don’t want it to go to waste.”
I return to the bedroom and arrange for a meal to be brought up to me so Adriano can enjoy dinner with his family.
“It’s okay, little one,” I say as I glance out the window hoping to see Alessandro return home. “He’ll be home at some point and I can tell him then.”
At ten, I’m too tired to stay awake so I prepare for bed. I’m not worried. Tomorrow, I’ll find the perfect time to share this wonderful news with Alessandro. As I fall asleep, my dreams are filled with visions of a happy, fulfilled life I never thought I’d have.