My mind is racing. Doing math. Several weeks since the alley, but even more since the beach…
"When was your last period?"
She looks at me, confused. Then understanding dawns. Her eyes go wide.
"I don't... I haven't..." She's counting in her head. "Six weeks? Maybe seven?"
Seven weeks.
She could be pregnant.
The timing lines up. The beach. When I'd taken her sweetly. Before I knew what she was doing.
"You need to test," I say.
"I might just be late. Stress can?—"
"Gemma." I make her look at me. "We need to know."
Because if she's pregnant, everything changes.
The captains can't push Marcello if I'm about to have an heir. That's what they want.
Adrian will be less likely to strip his niece or nephew of their inheritance. And Gemma, she'll have a reason to be at home. To be fucking safe.
But if she's not...
I'm out of time.
"There are tests in the cabinet," she says quietly. "I bought them weeks ago. Been too scared to use them."
I get three, hand them to her.
"All of them. To be sure."
She nods, takes them with shaking hands. I wait.
"Can you leave?" she asks, voice soft.
I leave her alone in the bathroom. Not in the mood to argue. Pace the bedroom. Every minute feels like an hour.
Finally, the door opens.
She stands there, three white sticks in her hand.
Her face is unreadable.
"Well?" My voice is rough.
She looks up at me. And I see it in her eyes before she says the words.
"I'm pregnant."
The world tilts.
Six months of trying. Six months of failure. And now, in the middle of the worst crisis of my life, when everything is falling apart?—
Now she's pregnant.
