“Why does she need ‘girl time,’ Matti?” I demand, my knuckles whitening on the wheel.
I can practically hear the irritation snaking through him. “I don’t fucking know. I fucking hate this.” He blows out a hard breath and drops his voice. “Listen, I’m only telling you this because I’d want to know if I were you: they called the doc here.”
“Dr. Rossi?”
“Giovanna is with him now.”
“What do you mean she called the doc? Is she hurt? Did something happen?”
“I don’t know,” Matti says, quick and clipped. “She looks fine, but that’s probably why she’s not answering her phone. I’ll tell you if I hear anything.”
But my head’s already racing through every possibility, every failure that could’ve slipped through the cracks when she came home. Dr. Rossi told me she was finally cleared, clean tests, no complications. So what the fuck changed? If somethinghappened to her, something we missed, someone’s going to pay for it.
“I’m coming over,” I growl, whipping the car across three lanes so I can make my way back to Dragovari Tower.
“Now?” Matti sounds unsure.
“Yes, now. Why, what’s the fucking problem?” Anger and fear spread through me like wildfire.
He exhales hard, defeated. “Fine. I think she’s done with the doc, but I don’t know.”
“I’m on my way.” I end the call and gun it.
46
Giovanna
The white marble and stainless steel fixtures in Matti and Siena’s bathroom gleam under the bright lights. On the pristine counter, Dr. Rossi’s supplies look out of place: alcohol wipes, cotton balls, blood vials, a glinting needle, and a small stack of papers.
He gestures toward the papers with a tilt of his chin as he slides the needle into my arm. “Those are the files on every known conspirator involved in the kidnapping. Most are dead. I also included Aurelio’s remaining men, those who didn’t defect to Vin’s side. Many of them are gone, too.”
I glance at the list but stop after a few names. None are familiar, and I don’t want them to be. I just want this to be over.
Dr. Rossi’s composure never falters. His movements are precise, even detached, as he swaps out the first vial for another. “Once your sample is processed, I’ll compare it against theirDNA. If there’s a match, we’ll know who the father is or if he’s related to anyone on that list.”
“Related to him?”
“Yes,” he replies evenly. “If one of Aurelio’s men brought a cousin or brother on a job, the test will still identify the baby as a relation to the Demonio family member, and you can proceed from there.”
The second vial fills slowly.
“You need that much blood?” I ask, trying to sound casual but failing.
“I’m also running a quantitative hCG test,” he explains, removing the needle. “The first test told us you were pregnant. This one will estimate how far along you are so I can adjust your supplements for the baby’s development.”
The baby’s developmental level? I can barely wrap my head around the fact that I’m pregnant, much less worry about development and vitamins. But I nod like that makes sense.
“How long until we get the results?”
“A few days at most. I’ll prioritize it.”
When he’s gone, I sink to the cold marble floor, back pressed against the counter cabinets. My arm stings where he drew blood, but it’s a welcome distraction from the nausea. I run my hands over my belly, on top of the pregnancy bodysuit that Siena gave me, and try to breathe.
I can’t stop thinking about Tommy.
What is he going to do when he finds out? Will he still want me? Or will he only see the man who raped me when he looks at me?
If I keep the baby, will I lose him?
