Page 249 of The Italian Obsession

“It’s not safe to transfer us both in the middle of the night.”

“Why isn’t it safe? Who the fuck is waiting out there?”

“Will you stop fucking cursing?”

“No, I will not! There won’t even be a fucking baby if we’re all dead!” I cry.

“We can’t leave now, Olivia.” He passes the gun back over and walks me to the bed. “Get into bed.”

“With a gun?” I hold it up.

“The house is clear.”

“Then why do I need a fucking gun?” I snap.

“Olivia,” he growls. “Do not fall apart on me now. Tomorrow we can move. For now, we stay here.”

I get into bed and pull the covers over my head, completely furious to be in this position. I can hear men speaking in Italian in the distance and doors being open and shut.

The tears take over.

I just want to be normal.

________

“Congratulations, you’re nine weeks pregnant, Olivia,” the doctor says across the desk. “The heartbeat is strong, and everything looks to be in perfect order. Your baby is fit and healthy.”

Enrico’s broad smile beams over at me and he grips my hand tightly in his.

We are at the obstetrician, and it’s been a rough morning.

Enrico and I have hardly spoken. I’m stressed out after last night’s activities, while he’s been avoiding the subject. He thinks it was a false alarm—that I’m imagining things. They searched the entire house and found nothing.

But I know what I heard.

“You will have your baby by Christmas. Your due date is on the 15th of December.”

Enrico leans over and kisses me softly. He’s this big important man with all the money in the world, but when it comes down to it, nothing is more important to him than becoming a father.

“Congratulations, baby,” he whispers.

I smile proudly. My heart is so full that it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Your next appointment will be scheduled in four weeks.” The doctor looks between us. “Do you have any questions?”

Enrico’s eyes flick to me, and I know he has a million. “Is there anything particular that we…” He pauses as he searches for the right wording. “Shouldn’t be doing?”

I can think of a few. Not being killed as I sleep is number one.

The doctor smiles, understanding the true meaning of his question. “No, carry on as normal. Sexual activity is natural and completely fine. It won’t hurt the baby at all.”

“Oh.” Enrico’s shoulders drop in relief. “Can she eat everything?”

“I would avoid raw seafood and soft cheeses, and of course alcohol and recreational drugs.”

“Of course.” Something tells me he is going to micromanage this pregnancy with strategic precision. “Okay, then.” Enrico stands and shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thank you. We’ll see you in a month.”

He takes my hand and we walk out through the swanky office. When we make our way to the car, I try my hardest to not notice the bodyguards. I’m still on edge.