Page 144 of The Viper's Wife

He drops to his knees and shoves his face between my legs.

He’s goneby the time I wake up, a pleasant ache my reminder of him.

A vague memory, like a dream, floats through my mind. Nico softly whispering how excited he is to see me walk down the aisle. Of him kissing my belly over and over and telling our baby he loves her before he slips back out of my room.

It’s still too early to tell, but Nico swears it’ll be a little girl.

And maybe it’s silly, or wishful thinking, but I believe him.

The idea of the man I love holding our baby girl in his hands, telling her he’ll love her and protect her no matter what, heals something in me.

And today, I’m going to marry him.

Groaning, I stretch and grimace at the early hour on thehotel alarm clock. I consider going back to sleep, but haul myself out of bed instead to shower off my and Nico’s evening activities before my bridal party shows up.

After, I inspect myself in the hotel’s floor-length mirror. I look pale without my makeup, my damp hair dripping onto my shoulders, and my black lace nightgown and robe clinging to my boney joints. I’m starting to think the promised pregnancy glow might not be coming, because so far, I only look tired and thin and a little nauseated.

It’s too early to see the baby bump, but I rub my palm over my belly anyway and send her—or him—positive thoughts. With any luck, I’ll manage to reach the altar without a bout of morning sickness in front of a churchful of mobsters.

My phone buzzes against the mattress, and I let out a sigh.It begins.

I move to the bed, flipping my phone over to see the caller.

Mom.

My heart pounds as I stare at the caller ID, unable to process what I’m seeing.

I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. I didn’t even know she knew I was getting married.

One hand on my belly like I can protect my baby from what’s to come, I pick up the phone.

“Mom?”

“Sweetheart, did you think I would miss your wedding?”

I exhale shakily. “Yeah.” A raw, tender part of my heart throbs at the sound of my mom’s voice. Does she know I’m pregnant? Does she know about Dad?

“Come to the door, there’s something I want to show you,” she says.

A warning prickles at the back of my neck. “I can’t,” I whisper. My throat is dry. “I’m in my robe.”

“That’s okay. This won’t take long. Just come outside, there’s something I want to show you before you start your big day. It’s a surprise.” She sounds a little breathless, like she’s just run up a flight of stairs.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I approach the hotel door. All the horror movies I’ve watched blare in the back of my mind.

Don’t do it.

I rest my hand on the door handle.

And step back.

“Mom, are you okay? Something sounds wrong.”

Before she can answer, the hotel door beeps, and the person on the other side turns the handle.

The door swings open.

Stefano, dressed in an employee’s uniform, standing next to a big rolling cart, greets me with a somber expression.