“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re all here to help me get settled in.”
“We’ve got your back.” Mariella smiles at me. “Always.”
Over the next hour, we lounge around, catching up and eating pizza. When baby Nella wakes up, she gets passed around the room from one person to another until my turn comes around. I hold her awkwardly, not really sure what to do, and the girls laugh.
“You look terrified, Gabs,” Mariella observes.
“That’s because I am,” I admit. “What are you supposed to say to a baby, exactly?”
“Whatever feels natural,” Abella answers without patronizing me.
“Hello, tiny human.” I study her as she squeezes my finger with her fist. “Did you know baby sharks are called pups? Some can swim and hunt on their own as soon as they’re born, and depending on the species, they may even eat their siblings in the womb.”
“Okay, maybe we steer clear of the shark facts.” Val steals her away from me.
She holds her up and makes Nella smile like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“I think I’m missing that chip.” I frown.
“Well, you’d better start practicing.” Val shudders. “Riccardo has mentioned more than once that he wants kids.”
The conversation falls dead silent, and Val shoots me an apologetic glance. I know she didn’t say it to upset me. This isjust the reality of our world. We marry who our fathers tell us to, and the men decide our futures. That’s how it is, and there’s no point sugarcoating it.
Truthfully, I haven’t given much thought to having kids. I’ve always known that, like everything else, it wouldn’t be up to me. I won’t have a say in that or most of the things that happen in my life. I think that’s why, despite the risks, it’s so important for me to make at least one major decision myself.
I’ll have to marry who my family picked, but I want my first time to be with someone I choose. I want at least one experience I enjoy before I’m forced to endure Riccardo. If I’m lucky, maybe that memory will hold me over for the rest of my grim life.
I’ve already told Abella and Mariella about my plan, and they both support me. Mariella gave me birth control off the record, and before I graduate, I hope to find the person I can share the experience with.
The thought has crossed my mind more than once that it could be Eros. Our interactions have long since moved past innocent flirtations into darker territory. We’ve had explicit conversations about the things I want to try, like being chased, captured, and dominated by a masked man. We’ve exchanged GIFs and clips from horror films, and we’ve even discussed the boundaries I’d set in those hypothetical scenarios. It makes me believe that, if we ever met in person, we could take it to the next level.
The only thing is, he’s never asked me to meet, and I’m not sure why.
“I suppose we should probably start unpacking,” Abella says, interrupting my thoughts. “Before it gets too late.”
I nod, stifling a yawn before I stand up.
“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Rafe says.
Angelo comes over to kiss his wife, brushing her hair aside with so much tenderness I can’t help but blush. I don’t think I’veever seen two people more in love. And after all the hell they went through, they deserve every bit of happiness.
“I’ll take these guys back to the marina, then Antonella and I will drop by the office to catch up on a few things.”
“Pick us up in a couple of hours?” Abella smiles at him.
“I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
I fight the urge to glance at Romeo when the other men say their goodbyes, and I thank them for their help. But I can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of my face until I turn away, my heart beating too fast.
I give myself a mental pat on the back when he leaves. If we’re keeping score, Romeo might be up by two points today, but I figure not reacting deserves at least one point in my favor. Maybe if I keep it up, he’ll get bored and stop trying to provoke me.
The girls and I get to work, unpacking all my boxes and figuring out where to put everything. Fortunately for me, this room has a big closet, since I have a lot of clothes. I’ve been making my own for years using the fabrics I prefer and avoiding annoying zippers, tags, or uncomfortable elastic bands.
Since Abella is a stylist, she’s been able to get me remnants, sample yardage, and the occasional overstock from fabric showrooms. She knows my preferences well, and even understands exactly how I like my closet. So she takes on the challenge of organizing my clothes while Valentina pokes her nose in all my stuff.
“You have a bizarre obsession with Ghostface,” she muses, adding my mini backpack to the pile of Scream items I’ve collected over the last year.
“He’s hot.” I shrug.
