I’m hiding in Romeo Ciresa's penthouse while my father threatens to destroy his family and my ex-fiancé presses assault charges. My entire future hangs in the balance of a plastic stick that will either show one line or two.
Nothing about any of this is what I wanted or what I thought my life would look like.
I should take the test. I know I should. Romeo asked me to wait for him, to let him be there when I find out. Part of me wants that—wants his hand in mine, to not be alone when I discover whether everything is about to change irrevocably. But another part of me, the part that's been growing louder and more insistent since Thad grabbed my arm and left bruises inthe shape of his fingers, since my father issued his ultimatum, since Romeo broke a man's face in my living room?—
That part wants to do this alone and reclaim some small piece of agency in a situation where I feel like I have none. I want to make at least one decision without a man standing over me telling me what it means and what I should do about it.
I stand up and walk to the bathroom, and my legs feel unsteady. The test is sitting on the counter where I left it. I pick it up with trembling hands.
The instructions are simple and straightforward. All I have to do is follow them, and in three minutes I’ll know if I'm pregnant with Romeo Ciresa's baby.
I do it quickly, before I can change my mind and talk myself out of it, before I can decide that maybe Romeo was right and I should wait for him to be here. The three minutes feel like hours, and I sit on the edge of the bathtub with the test face down on the counter. I can't look at it yet. I can't watch the lines appear or not appear, can't witness the moment when my future crystallizes into something I can't undo.
I count my breaths—in for four, out for four—and I try not to think about what either result will mean. I try not to imagine Romeo's face when he finds out, try not to picture my father's rage. I try not to think about the fact that I’ll have a decision to make, whether it’s positive or negative.
When the three minutes are up, I don't move immediately. I sit there for another thirty seconds, frozen, wanting there to be just another moment where I don’t know for sure. Then I stand up and turn the test over. I look at the result window, and I see?—
Two lines. Clear, unmistakable, and completely definitive.
I'm pregnant.
I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep myself upright. I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I’m relieved to finallyhave an answer or just terrified that this is happening. That is my life now.
I'm pregnant with Romeo Ciresa's baby. I'm carrying the child of a man who terrifies me and makes me feel things I've never felt before—things I'm not sure I want to feel, that make me question everything I thought I knew about myself, what I want, and who I'm supposed to be.
I set the test down on the counter and walk back into the living room. I'm moving on autopilot now, going through the familiar motions of making coffee even though I probably shouldn't be drinking caffeine, then the routine of getting dressed even though I have nowhere to go. I feel like I'm floating somewhere outside my body, watching myself from a distance and wondering who this woman is and how she got here and what she's going to do next.
The knock on the door makes me jump, and for a moment I freeze, my heart racing with the irrational fear that it's Thad, or my father, or the police coming to arrest Romeo for assault. But then I hear a woman's voice calling through the door.
"Savannah? It's Giulia. Romeo's sister. He asked me to come check on you."
I remember Romeo mentioning something about his sister stopping by. I open the door, and Giulia Ciresa is nothing like what I expected.
She's petite and dark-haired like her brother, but where Romeo is all sharp edges and barely contained intensity, Giulia is warm and open and smiling at me like we're already friends.
Like I’m not the woman causing her family so much trouble. Like she doesn't know or doesn't care that I'm the reason her brother is spiraling and her father is furious, and everything is falling apart.
She's carrying two large shopping bags and wearing jeans and a sweater that looks expensive but comfortable. She breezespast me into the penthouse like she owns the place, like this is the most natural thing in the world.
"You must be Savannah.” She sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and turns to look at me. Her eyes are the same dark brown as Romeo's, but somehow softer, kinder. "I'm Giulia. Romeo's been talking about you nonstop, and I finally told him I needed to meet you myself before I went crazy from secondhand obsession."
The casual way she says it—secondhand obsession—makes me laugh despite everything. "It's nice to meet you," I say, and my voice sounds more normal than I expected, more steady.
"Romeo said you might be hungry, so I brought supplies." She starts unpacking the bags, and I watch as she pulls out fresh bread and cheese and fruit, then pastries from what looks like an expensive bakery, along with sparkling water and juice and chocolate that's probably imported from somewhere far away, if the luxury all around me is any indication. "He also said you've been stressed, which is the understatement of the century from what I understand, so I figured carbs and sugar were in order."
"You didn't have to do all this," I tell her. But I'm already moving toward the counter and reaching for one of the pastries. I haven't eaten since yesterday, and the smell of fresh bread is making my stomach growl.
"Of course I did. You're important to my brother, which makes you important to me." She says it so simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like the fact that Romeo is obsessed with me automatically means his sister will welcome me with open arms and expensive pastries. "Besides—” She pauses for a moment, looking at me. “My brother isn’t an emotional man, but he is with you. That alone would make me curious about you.”
The way she says it, with curiosity instead of condemnation, makes me feel like maybe I'm not completely alone in this—likemaybe there's someone who understands what it's like to love Romeo Ciresa and be terrified by him at the same time. "I'm not sure that's a good thing," I say carefully, taking a bite of the pastry.
"It's not good or bad. It just is." Giulia pours us both glasses of juice and gestures for me to sit at the kitchen island. I do, and she sits across from me like we're old friends catching up over brunch, instead of two women who just met and are connected only by the fact that her brother is obsessed with me. "Romeo has always been different. More intense. More focused. More willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Not ever driven by emotion. Our father saw that in him when he was young and cultivated it, turned him into this ideal heir. But I always wondered, as I got older, what would happen if Romeo ever wanted something for himself instead of for the family. And now I know."
"What happens?" I ask, even though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
"Chaos." She looks at me with a hint of sympathy in her eyes, but there’s also a smile on her lips. “Romeo doesn't do anything halfway, Savannah. When he wants something, he wants it completely. Obsessively. And right now, he wants you."
That scares me. It would scare any rational person. But it also makes me feel something dangerously close to pleasure, knowing that I matter to someone in a way I've never mattered before. "I know," I say quietly. "That's part of the problem."
