Page 71 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

“Yes, seriously. You said you didn’t want him knowing we’re going to the hospital. So I’m not going to go against your wishes.”

“But you work for them.”

I eyed her. “But my job is to protect you.”

A little smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not sure Carlos meant that in the way you’re taking it, but as someone who grew up with no one to have my back, thank you. You’re a really good friend.”

I was going to put a rope around my neck and hang myself from one of the Guerras’ million-dollar chandeliers if she kept saying that.

But I said nothing, keeping my stupid Nyah crush to myself, because fuck knew there was no point entertaining feelings like that when she already had two Guerras and a Dax to deal with.

Being her friend was fine. Maybe I’d meet a cute nurse while we were at the hospital and that would wipe Nyah from my mind completely.

I somehow doubted it. I’d barely worked with her for a week, but there was something about protecting the woman that did something to me.

I stared out the car window, trying to get myself under control.

But all it took was one little noise from her to have me looking back over at her. “What is it? You okay?”

She nodded, but then she winced again.

“You’re not okay!” I said it so loud it was practically a shout.

The taxi driver glanced at us warily in the rearview mirror, like he’d already had a gut full of annoying passengers today and was ready to kick us out at any moment.

I lowered my voice to a lower decibel. “What’s going on?”

She brushed off my concern. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

But her face said she suddenly wasn’t. And by the time we pulled up in front of the emergency room doors, there was a slight sheen of sweat covering her forehead. I got out and ran around to her side of the car, helping her out, peppering her with questions as I helped her inside the building.

“Are you dizzy? Are you seeing spots? Do you feel like you’re going to puke?”

She didn’t answer any of them, her pretty face now twisted with fear. We got to the receptionist’s desk, and she leaned heavily on it.

“Can I see a doctor please?”

The receptionist didn’t even look in her direction. She just pushed a form at her and said, “Take a seat. We’ll call you when someone is free.”

Nyah clutched the clipboard, glanced at me, and then said weakly, “Please. I need to see someone urgently. I’m pregnant.”

I froze.

Closed my eyes.

Took a deep fucking breath to will away my own sudden rush of nausea. “You’re pregnant?” I hissed, leading her over to a chair to wait. “As in, you have a baby in your belly right now?”

She glanced at me before she started filling out the form. “That’s normally what pregnant means, Lynx.”

“Whose baby is it!”

“Whose do you think?”

“Please tell me its Carlos’s.”

Her expression told me it most definitely was not.

I groaned, running my hand through my hair. “So what you’re telling me is, Carlos Guerra’s virgin fucking bride is actually knocked up by…who? Please don’t tell me by Luca.”