Page 44 of From Italy With Love

Pregnant.

For a moment, for one brief, shining moment, I felt pure joy. The kind of joy I didn’t know I was capable of feeling anymore. The kind that made everything else fade away until there was nothing but her and me and the life we had created together.

No past, no future, no complications. Just this.

A child. Our child.

I pulled her into my arms and held her so tightly that I was afraid I might hurt her. My hands trembled as they found her waist, her back, wanting to memorize every inch of her. “Madigan,” I breathed against her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. “God, baby.”

This should have been one of the happiest moments of my life. Should have been the beginning of something beautiful, something worth fighting for. The kind of moment people remembered for the rest of their lives, the kind they told their children about years later with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

But the joy lasted only seconds before reality crashed down on me like a tidal wave, cold and merciless, and suffocating. The weight of everything I had been trying to ignore came flooding back all at once, and I felt myself drowning in it.

A child.

Our child.

A child that would tie her to me forever, binding our fates together in ways that couldn’t be undone. A child who would make her a target. That would paint a bullseye on her back for all my enemies to see. A child who would force us out of hiding and into the light where everyone could see what we had done, exposing every secret we’d buried, every lie we’d told, every sin we’d committed in the shadows.

The fear came fast and vicious, clawing at my chest until I could barely breathe. It wrapped around my ribs like iron bands, squeezing tighter with each passing second. My heart hammered against my sternum, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. The room seemed to tilt and spin as panic flooded my system, drowning out every rational thought.

“How long have you known?” I asked, pulling back to look at her.

“I took the test this morning. I’m late. I’ve been feeling sick.” Her hands were trembling as she gripped my arms. “Salvatore, I don’t know what to do.”

Neither did I.

I had spent weeks pretending we could keep this secret. Pretending that as long as we were careful, as long as we stayed hidden, we could have this. Have each other. Have something that was just ours. But a child changed everything.

There was no hiding a pregnancy. No hiding a baby. No pretending that nothing had happened between us when the evidence would be there for everyone to see.

Her family would find out. My family would find out. And when they did...

I couldn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t let myself imagine what her family would do when they discovered she was carrying my child. Couldn’t think about how my family would react to the news that I had gotten involved with the daughter of a business associate.

The violence that would follow. The blood that would be spilled.

“We can’t keep hiding,” I said, my words tasting like ash in my mouth. “Not anymore.”

“I know.” She was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. “I know, but I don’t know what else to do. If my family, my father finds out⁠—”

I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I’ll kill them before I let them touch you.”

“That’s not the answer.”

“Then what is?” My voice was rising, desperation bleeding through. “Tell me what to do, Madigan. Tell me how to fix this.”

“I don’t know!” She pulled away from me, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this okay. I’m Catholic. You’re Catholic. It’s not like we have other options.”

She was right.

I had spent my entire life solving problems. Fixing things. Making the impossible possible through sheer force of will and carefully calculated violence. It was what I was good at. What I had been trained to do since I was old enough to hold a weapon. Every obstacle had a solution if you were willing to pay the price. Every enemy had a weakness if you were patient enough to find it. But this... this was different.

This wasn’t something I could fix with money or threats, or blood. This wasn’t a rival to eliminate or a deal to negotiate. This wasn’t a war I could win through superior firepower or tactical brilliance.

This was a child. Our child. A tiny, innocent life that hadn’t been asked to be born into this world of shadows and secrets. A life that deserved better than the mess we had created. Better than two broken people trying to navigate a relationship built on lies and violence. Better than parents who dealt in death and lived by codes written in blood.

I crossed to her and pulled her back into my arms, holding her while she cried. Her tears soaked through my shirt, hot against my chest. I could feel her body trembling, feel the weight of her fear and uncertainty pressing against me. My mind was racing, trying to find a solution, trying to see a way through this that didn’t end in disaster. I mentally ran through scenarios, contingencies, and backup plans. All the tactical thinking that had kept me alive for so long.