Page 28 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

The cook nods, reaching out to give my hand a tight squeeze. “It’s alright,” she tells me in her thick Italian accent. “You need anything, you come to me, okay?”

I nod, forcing a smile onto my face to express my gratitude—even if it feels like my stomach is going to burst with the sheer terror of what I might be facing right now. I take the pharmacy bag that she has slipped onto the tray next to my dinner and empty it out on the bed, to find a pregnancy test staring back at me.

Well. Time to find out, one way or another.

I brush aside the food and take the test straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I can’t believe that I’m doing this, can’t believe I’m even considering entertaining the idea that I could be pregnant. But the longer I spend trying to dodge it, the more likely that I’m going to let this problem turn into something bigger than it needs to be—and to drive myself batshit crazy in the process.

I’ve been turning it over and over in my head for what feels like days now, ever since I realized that my period was running late. Which could, to be honest, mean nothing at all. With all the stress and shock of the last month, it wouldn’t exactly be unusual for my period to go AWOL with no warning.

But there’s something else nagging at me—the reminder of what I did with Antonio on our wedding night, and the fact that we didn’t exactly use protection.

Which means…well, in theory, at least, I could be pregnant.

Pregnant.

The word laces itself into my mind, pulling taut until it feels like I might pass out. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get my hands on a pregnancy test, eventually pulling Irina aside when she brought me dinner and asking her to grab one for me. It’s not as though I can just wander on down to the pharmacy and pick one up for myself, and as much as I don’t want anyone else finding out what has been going through my head, the last thing I need is to get stuck in my ruminations about whether or not it might be happening. The sooner I can clear this from my mind, the better, and this is the only way it’s going to happen.

Irina has sworn up and down that she hasn’t let it slip to anyone else in the house, and I guess I have to believe her, given the way she has fussed over me since I got here.

I open the box and the test lands on my lap as I kneel on the bathroom floor. I read through the instructions, doing my best to ignore how much my hands are shaking, and when I’m certain I know what I’m doing, I rise to my feet, and take it.

Three minutes. That’s how long it said it would take. Three minutes between the me who exists now and the one who might exist when I discover that I am pregnant. I can’t believe I let myself get into this position in the first place, but on the night of the wedding, the only thing I wanted was him.

And even now, as I stare down at the piece of flimsy plastic in front of me, I find myself wishing that he was here at my side—that I didn’t have to do this alone, as inevitable as it feels, as much as it seems like there’s no other choice.

I count down the seconds in my head, trying to keep myself as busy as I can. God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s a miracle I could get my hands on a test as it was without Antonio finding out about it, and if he does, no doubt he’ll be quick to interrogate me about the results.

I don’t even know if I will tell him one way or another—I mean, even if he came to me to ask about Andreo, even if he told me that he wouldn’t let his son get away with treating me like that, it’s a very different thing to be faced with a new family member of his own…

I finish the countdown, and when I open my eyes, they focus on the plastic strip in front of me. And my blood runs fucking cold when I see the results.

Positive.

No. No, no, no, no. There must be some mistake.

I grab the test, lifting it up so I can get a better look at it, willing my eyes to focus so I can see the truth, because there’s no way—there is just no way that this is right. But there it is, staring back at me, clear as day. I am pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

The test clatters out of my hand and onto the floor, and I slump back against the bathtub behind me as I try to wrap my head around it. It feels like a nightmare, a kind of sick joke at my expense. In some ways, it’s the most natural thing in the world—I got married, had sex with my husband, and now I am pregnant by him. But there’s nothing about this that fits into my plans for my life, and I have no idea how Antonio will react…

I mean, if I have to tell him at all. I don’t exactly know how I could hide it from him, given that he seems intent on not letting me out of this house, but maybe I could find a way to sneak out, get rid of the child before he even finds out about it.

A pang clenches my chest at the mere thought of it. No. No, I don’t want to get rid of this baby. I’ve never exactly imagined being a parent before, but now that I’m faced with the possibility, I know that I can’t let go of the baby.

My own parents were so cruel to me, so nasty, so abusive, and I swore a long time ago that I would do anything in my power to make sure that my own little ones never have to face the same thing. And how am I going to give them that chance, if I go through with a termination before they even take their first breath?

I’m keeping this baby. Which means…

I am going to have to tell Antonio about it.

I can already guess at all the questions he’s going to have for me, and I don’t blame him for any of them. I mean, he will think, I guess, at first, that this child belongs to Andreo and not him. And he’s well within his rights to see it that way. But Andreo and I hadn’t slept together for a while before the wedding—at least a month. He was out late most nights, and I was busy getting ready for the wedding… I was glad for the excuse not to have to sleep with him, to be honest, though I would never in a million years have admitted it. There is no way that this baby can be his, it can only belong to his father…

His father. Fuck, that means that this is going to Andreo’s sibling.

It’s so fucked-up I can barely wrap my head around it, mind swimming as I try to fit the pieces together. I feel like I’m losing it. But then, how could I not, given the circumstances? I thought it would be a long, long time before I became a mother in my own right, but now I’m looking at a future where I have fallen pregnant by a man I barely know—but a man I am married to.

Shit, it’s such a mess, I don’t know where to begin…