“Take the damn test, Valentina!”
Pain lances through me when her nails pierce my skin, and I gasp while pulling free. “Let go!”
“Not until?—”
The door slams open so fast it smacks into the drywall.
Valeria jerks back as fear fills her eyes. Her panic doesn’t lessen a smidge when she realizes it is Dante entering my room instead of Giovanni.
Dante’s presence fills the room like the gust of a dangerous storm after a humid day. It’s as suffocating as it is liberating.
As his eyes bounce between Valeria and me, he grinds his teeth. “What the hell is going on?” His voice is dangerously low. “I could hear you arguing halfway down the hall.”
“She—” Valeria starts, but Dante cuts her off with a look that could shatter bulletproof glass.
“Out,” he orders, staring at Valeria as if she’s gum under his desk. “Now.”
Valeria’s lips curl like she believes her beauty will get her out of more than a speeding ticket. One flare of Dante’s nostrils and she wises up. After dropping my arm, the sting from her nails still irritating my skin, she stalks past him without another word leaving her thin-pressed lips.
The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows slackens the clutch slowly asphyxiating me, though not fully.
How could I have forgotten I might be pregnant? Giovanni is a king both inside and outside the bedroom, but one glance at his sinfully delicious face shouldn’t make me a brain-dead idiot.
Dante’s expression softens when he takes in the pregnancy test sitting on the bed. “Are you okay?”
I nod too quickly. The dizziness it inspires nearly makes me vomit. “Yes.” I muster a smile that announces my dishonesty before my words do. “I’m fine.”
Dante has honed the same skills as Giovanni. He sees straight through my lie. “Would you like me to get Vanni?”
“No.” Loose tresses of hair slap my cheeks when I shake my head. “I’d prefer not to interrupt him while he’s with your father.”
Giovanni explained last night that the brothers take turns checking in with the doctor helming his father’s medical care, and that this morning was his turn. Their meetings rarely last ten minutes, but each brother uses the time left over from the allotted hour to have quality one-on-one time with their father.
Giovanni already missed one rostered check-in because he was busy settling me in. I don’t want him to miss another. He’s so understanding of my sometimes overbearing relationship with my mother, so I’ll give him the same flexibility with his parent.
Dante eyeballs me for a moment, then slowly turns to face the door. “If you need anything…”
“I’m good,” I whisper, more convincingly this time. “Thank you.”
When he leaves, my heart pounds so hard it might crack my ribs. Valeria’s words won’t stop playing on repeat:Giovanni thinks you’re pregnant. If you’re not, you’ll be gone faster than I can snap my fingers.
My throat burns as the room suddenly feels too big and cold. As panic bears down on me, I rush into the bathroom. I need to wash off the funk clinging to my skin and remember that I’ve faced worse than this.
I was told nine months ago my mother had six months to live. Nothing could be worse than that. Though I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a close second.
The shower water is scalding, but I need it that way. The heat melts the tension coiled in my muscles and soothes the sting from Valeria’s nails. Steam curls around me as barbs of water pelt my skin.
It helps. The highness in my shoulders slacken and the tension in my spine loosens. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the clean scent of soap and steam, and for a few precious minutes, I pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. There are no tests or threats. And no cruel whispers that I’m nothing more than an incubator.
I feel good, but the instant I switch off the faucet, the negativity creeps back in.
What if Giovanni only wants me because he’s desperate for an heir?
I’m consumed with what-ifs as I wrap myself in a towel and enter the central part of the room. My steps falter partway in. The pregnancy test sits on the mattress, glaring at me like it’s a verdict waiting to be delivered. It’s just plastic and paper, but right now, it feels like the most powerful thing in the world. Whatever answer it holds could change everything.
Water drips onto the wooden floorboards as I stare at a truth I’m not ready to face. Then I inch closer, as if drawn by gravity. I don’t want to fold to peer pressure, but I’d like to know what’s happening inside my body.
Because at the end of the day, it’s my body, so it’s my choice.