Page 229 of The Italian Obsession

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” she asks.

“No.” My eyes flick nervously to Lorenzo. “I think I will just go to bed, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She leads me up the stairs and down a huge corridor. “This used to be Enrico’s room as a child,” she says as she opens the door. “I thought you might want to stay in here.”

I look around the luxurious furnishings. The walls are navy blue and the furnishings are all white. To the left is a beautiful white marble bathroom.

Wow.

Who has a bedroom like this as a child? “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” With one last look and another forced smile, she leaves and closes the door behind her. I drop down on the bed before I flop onto my back. I lie for a moment and stare at the ceiling. I know there’s something I really have to do.

I’ve been putting it off for a week, but now I need to know. I dig out the pharmacy paper bag from my luggage and I read the box.

First Response Pregnancy Test

I’m on the pill. I know it can’t be positive, but for some reason I have this weird gut feeling that I am.

I mean, I did miss a pill or two a few weeks back, but I took double the next day, and I’ve always done that before with no consequences.

I study the instructions and then go and pee on the stick. I sit on the bathroom counter while I wait.

I wait.

And I wait… And I wait.

Before my very eyes, one line appears… and then a second faint line appears not so long after.

Hmm, that’s interesting.

I frown. What does that mean? I snatch the instructions up and read them again.

Two lines indicates a positive result.

My mouth falls open in shock. What the fuck? I’m pregnant.

ENRICO

I’m livid.

Never in my life have I ever been so angry.

One of our girls has been found in a back alley in Sicily, dead.

Beaten, and then strangled—the name Lucky Lombardi carved into her face.

How fucking dare he?

She did not deserve to die like this. His fight is with me, not her. His name carved in her face is for my benefit. He wants a war, and he just got one.

“You find where he is?” I growl as I get off the plane.

“We have a location,” Sergio replies. “He’s in a bar on the South Side.”