Chiara
Istand back and watch as the doctor examines Fina. The tension in her eyes is obvious to me, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice as he records her blood pressure on his tablet.
“Nothing seems terribly amiss, Miss Serafina,” he murmurs. “But I’ll run a few blood tests to be certain. I expect you’ve been burning the candle at both ends, like young ladies are apt to do these days.”
Fina catches me rolling my eyes at his patronizing waffle, and offers a ghost of a smile.
Fina winces when the doctor inserts a needle and fills three small vials with blood.
“I’ll call tomorrow with the results, but in the meantime, I suggest you eat something nourishing and rest.”
“Yes, Dr. Cliff.” The doctor packs up his things and leaves. Matteo stands outside.
“Is she okay?” he asks in a low voice.
I squeeze his arm encouragingly. “Yeah. She’s fine.” The poor man trembles like he might have a nervous breakdown any minute now, but until we come up with a plan, there’s not muchany of us can do. At least no-one has figured out she’s pregnant yet.
Once the cat’s out of the bag, we have a problem. Angelo won’t be an issue, but his father definitely will be. There’s no way he can marry Fina off if she’s expecting another man’s baby.
I haven’t met this Santini dude, but I’m pretty sure he’d be suspicious if Fina gives birth to a full-term baby five months after the wedding.
“Can you fetch her some snacks and a pot of tea, please?” I’d go myself, but I think Fina needs a friend right now.
Matteo nods and jogs downstairs.
Fina’s sitting up against a pile of soft pillows when I walk back into her room. She’s still pale, but there’s a hint of color back in her cheeks now.
“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” She stares at the pale blue quilt over her legs. A tear slides down her cheek, but she quickly brushes it away.
“Not yet. I promise we’ll figure something out.” And I mean it. I really wasn’t kidding when I offered to poison Lorenzo. It wouldn’t be so difficult. Get myself invited for tea, pop something deadly in his drink, and bingo. Job done.
Pretty sure nobody would miss the old goat.
I almost chuckle when I realize how fast I’ve adapted to the role of mob wife. Maybe Angelo and I are perfect for each other.
“In the meantime, though, there’s a new series on Netflix I want to watch, so scoot over.” She smiles, and this time it touches her eyes.
“It better not be anything gory. I don’t have the stomach for violence these days.”
“Nope, no gore. Just vampires doing naughty things to poor innocent girls.” I wink.
By the time we’ve binged five episodes of the steamy vampire drama that makes Bridgerton look positively vanilla, Fina’s fallen asleep. We’re surrounded by the remains of the food Matteo brought up from the kitchen, most of which I ate, I’m ashamed to admit.
Fina managed a few mouthfuls, but when I tried to tempt her with some pasta carbonara, she refused.
Once I’m sure she won’t wake, I tidy up the plates and stack them on the tray before turning the TV off. Matteo sits with his back to the wall when I quietly open her bedroom door. He’s a picture of abject misery.
“Is she asleep?”
I nod, and he relaxes a fraction. “Go be with her. She needs you.” Fina’s not really talked much about her relationship with Matteo, but I can tell from watching them they’re crazy in love. He touches her at every opportunity, and when she looks at him, she beams like he hung the moon for her.
I’m genuinely amazed Lorenzo hasn’t figured it out, while being simultaneously relieved he’s so far up his own ass that he can’t see when two people are in love.
Fina told me he’s given her PR job to the woman he’s sleeping with. A woman called Francesca. I’m disgusted on her behalf, but also unsurprised.
Loyalty is not a trait Lorenzo possesses.
Just as I reach the kitchen, Angelo appears. He takes the tray from my hand and places it on the counter.
