Of course. Of course Luca knows.
Of course he had me watched. I’m not just some woman he slept with, some woman he’s interested in. I’m the fucking prosecutor for his case.
How did I convince myself I could drive to a store thirty miles away or some no-name clinic out of town and no one would notice?
Because I wanted the illusion. Options. Time. I gave myself all three because I needed them.
I needed time to make a choice.
And just like that, I know I never had one. I know that there was only ever one option for me.
Even as I was making lists in my head and considering the possibilities, I always knew exactly what I was going to do.
It’s almost a relief.
The foot traffic is thick with the morning rush of commuters. New Yorkers walking briskly in crowds without looking up.
If I scream, I’ll get a hundred annoyed glances. Maybe it’ll be enough for me to slip away, run to my car, back to the lobby. Anywhere.
Just to give myself a little more time before my reality comes crashing down on me.
And then what? Where will I go then?
Besides, they won’t hurt me. I’m carrying their don’s baby. I’m safer than anyone on the street right now.
I would only be putting someone else’s life in danger by bringing attention to myself.
I slide my phone out of my pocket without breaking stride. My thumb flies.
Rain check on coffee. See you at the courthouse.
The message is sent to Owen with a small swoosh.
The hotel’s brick gives way to the open mouth of the lot, sun pooling on dented hoods. The city noise dulls a notch.
Antonio walks like he’s in no rush. Nico is quiet on my other side. Not just quiet, no. Still. He’s so still you’d barely know he was there.
It’s a bit unsettling, to be honest.
My car sits where I left it across the lot. I don’t want to get into it with them.
I’m fairly sure they won’t hurt me, but I’m not dumb, and I’m not alone anymore. I have someone else to protect.
I step ahead of them and turn confidently. The sun hits my face; I squint against it. They stop in unison. Not too close. But close enough.
Do they practice that?
My hands need something to do. I prop them on my hips so I won’t ball them into fists.
Antonio’s gaze skims me once, cataloging. I keep my face still.
My court face, I call it.
Nico’s eyes are unreadable, but I know he sees everything.
I hold my ground.
Antonio’s mouth tips.
