For a moment—a single, desperate moment—I thought it might work. That somewhere in him lived a sliver of decency.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed. A loud, delighted bark of amusement.
“Oh, Francesca. You always were full of surprises.” He wiped at his eyes. “This is perfect.”
Perfect?
My stomach twisted with a cold so deep it hurt.
“Pregnancy increases your value considerably,” he mused. “It complicates matters for the Buteras. Which gives me yet more leverage.”
He stepped closer again, staring down at me like I was an asset on a spreadsheet.
“We’re going to make a deal,” he said. “You join me, publicly denounce those men, maybe even tip the balance inside their organization…and we all get what we want.”
My voice was barely a whisper. “And if I don’t?”
He smiled.
“I’ll force you to get rid of it.”
The room spun. My breathing collapsed into sharp, panicked gasps. My baby. My tiny, unnamed, unexpected miracle.
“No,” I choked. “You can’t—Dad, please?—”
“You always wanted to be a mother?” he said mockingly. “Then follow instructions like your own mother used to. Be a good little girl.”
I felt sick. Shaking. Broken open.
I loved my baby already. Loved the very idea of them.
And of course, now I was realizing I loved the guys, too. I could never make a decision like this.
Distant gunshots cut him off.
Robert froze.
Another sound followed. Closer. Sharper.
More gunshots.
Shouting. Feet pounding against concrete somewhere in the building. A crash like splintering wood.
My heart soared—a wild, desperate, frantic hope exploding through me.
The men around Robert shifted, drawing weapons, cursing under their breath.
Robert snarled, “What the hell?—”
A blast echoed so loudly the walls vibrated.
I flinched, but hope kept my spine straight.
Please,I begged silently.Please let it be them. Jonathan. Devin. Alexei.
My guys. My maybe-future, maybe-family.
