Page 58 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

I sneak out of her room, creeping to mine and closing the door before Elio gets up the stairs. I let out a long breath in relief when I’m alone.

This isn’t forever. It can’t be, and we both know that.

But I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.

15

SAMANTHA

Weeks pass, and Dante and I don’t get a moment alone. Papa’s home all the time.

There’s something going on, but he won’t tell me what it is. It must be work related, though, because Dante’s on edge, too. He watches me all the time, those blue eyes piercing right through me.

And in close quarters, things start to get muddled.

Reese is still moping about Vaughn, but he’s being emotionally healthy and not self-destructive anymore, and Sofia’s been barely responding.

She and Dmitri are either on the rocks or together somewhere, hiding from their families.

Even though I’m slightly bitter, I hope it’s the latter. He’s really a sweet guy despite his Bratva upbringing, and she’s wild enough to bring him out of his shell. I like them together.

I liked Reese and Vaughn together, too, but…just like me and Dante, it’s not something that can last.

Around two months after Dante and I first slept together, I start to feel a little strange. Everything seems to set me off, and I chalk it up to not getting laid in weeks.

Even Dante irritates me to no end, and one day at breakfast, he’s chewing too loudly and he and Papa are chatting, and everything just seems too much.

The scraping of silverware on plates threatens to drive me crazy and I stand up suddenly, slamming my hands on the table.

“Can you two shut up for five seconds?”

Papa blinks at me. “Cara mia. What’s gotten into you? You don’t say things like that at the table.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” I snap.

Dante just stares at me, mouth open. “Don’t look at me like that,” I say irritably, and storm out of the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming the door to my room.

After about a half hour, I’ve calmed down considerably and I’m wondering what the hell is going on with me.

My stomach feels queasy and my head still feels strange, like I’m on the verge of a breakdown at all times. I feel unstable, body and mind, and I wonder if my relationship with Dante is taking its toll.

A knock sounds on my door. I’m sure it’s Papa, come to check on me. I open it slowly, but it’s Dante instead of Papa standing there. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

I nod, sighing. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I don’t know. Weird morning.”

“Seems like it.” He hums. “Do you have painkillers?”

“For what?” I ask, tilting my head in confusion.

“Your cycle,” he says, clearing his throat, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment.

I gape at him for a long moment. My period. Yes, of course.

That’s probably why I’ve been so irrational except… I can’t remember the last time I had one.

Not last month, because I hadn’t sent Ricardo out to buy me any products. I always remember because he makes a big fuss about it, like it’s a big deal.

I can feel the blood draining from my face. “I do,” I say quickly. “I’ll be fine.”