“And Sophie and you are…” Matti’s voice trails off at the look on my face. He exhales hard and leans his elbows on his knees, nodding as he stares down at the floor.
“Table the war strategy for now,” I finally say. “We’ll reconvene.”
**
Dr. Rossi arrives later that night, after Matti and Tommy leave. I’m just out of the shower, a towel around my waist, eyes glued to my phone, staring at the security cameras at the Arsenal.
“You knew,” I say before he gets his coat off.
He sets his bag down on the chair and doesn’t look at me. “I received the results of her bloodwork intending to let youknow when I changed your bandages. I sent her an email with bloodwork findings and intended to—”
“She got the results before I did.” I stare him down. He doesn’t flinch.
“Going forward,” I growl, “anything that happens with Sophie or with the baby, I hear about it first. Before she does. Before anyone does. You call me directly.”
He raises an eyebrow. “The best interest of your child—”
“I’m telling you how this is going to work. She will have the best prenatal care possible, whatever she needs, whatever the baby needs, whenever they need it. You will make it happen or you will find someone who can.”
Dr. Rossi nods once and picks up his bag. “Let me look at what you’ve done to my stitches.”
I sit forward on the edge of the bed while he works, staring at the security cameras. The Arsenal is closed and she should be on her way home soon.
The phone buzzes; a call from Jett. I answer on the first ring.
“Mr. Demonio.” I instantly know I’m going to hate whatever he’s about to fucking say. “Miss Sophia says she’s too tired to make the return trip tonight. She says she’s staying at the apartment above the restaurant.”
Yep. Fucking hate it. Rossi continues stitching me up.
“She says to tell you she’ll call you in the morning,” Jett adds, like this helps.
It does not help.
“Hold,” I say. I lower the phone and breathe through my nose for a count of three. She’s testing me. I’m not failing the fucking test. I raise the phone again. “Tell her I understand.”
“Uh. Okay. Yes, sir.”
I hang up and stew while Rossi finishes up and ties off the last stitch.
I stand up and reach for my shirt.
“You need to—” he starts.
“Get your bag,” I say. “You’re coming with me.”
45
SOPHIE
How he managed to slip by me, I have no idea but by the time I come upstairs to my apartment, exhausted, at the end of the shift, Vin is in my little kitchen with Dr. Rossi.
“Vin! What the frig are you doing here? I told Jett to tell you I’d call you in the morning.” I toss my apron on the chair more exhausted than I’ve felt in a long time. I made the dubious decision to put on heels and spend most of my time in the front of the house because the heat was too much in the kitchen, and I regret it now.
“Why are you telling Jett anything? You should be talking to me.” He’s standing at my stove, stirring something in a pan. I scrunch my nose at him.
“What are you making?”
“I made you dinner. You need calcium. Rossi said so.”
