Page 192 of Salvatore

She sighs. “You know what? I’m not even surprised. This situation is entirely Ivy Diaz-coded. I assume from the positive gleam I hear in your voice that you plan on keeping your tiny heir to the underworld.”

My belly erupts with a mass of fluttering butterflies. “Yes. I do.”

“Holy-goddamn-shit.” She squeals so loud I have to tear the phone from my ear. “I can’t believe it. You’re going to be amom. I bet Liv freaked when you told her.”

“Ah… well, I haven’t gotten around to telling her I’m keeping the baby. She’s not exactly a member of Salvatore’s cheer squad?—”

“But you’ll besisters-in-law.”

I pull the cell away again, her shriek threatening to burst my eardrum, the birds matching pitch with increased squawks and shrieks. “Don’t get carried away. The outlook for my future is kinda fluid at the moment. I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow, let alone seven months from now.” I turn my back to the aviary, determined to find a segue to fast-track me out of the complicated conversation when one stares me right in the face.

My smile falls. My heart plummets along with it.

“Al, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

“Yep… sure. I’m so excited?—”

I disconnect the line and cling tight to my cell as I hold the gaze of a raven-haired guard standing a few feet in front of me. “Can I help you?”

His lips curve upward, the expression lacking warmth as his fingers rest idly on the holstered gun at his hip. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He raises his voice over the birds’ excitement. “It sounded like you were having a nice conversation.”

I swallow over the apprehension coating my throat. “I was speaking to a friend.”

He inclines his head, taking me in from head to toe before glancing over my shoulder to the house. “You’re that cartel woman everyone is talking about.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t respond.

“They say you’re pregnant.” He lazily strolls closer. “I guess your phone call confirmed it.”

“I didn’t realize my reproductive state was a hot topic.”

He shrugs. “It’s not. Just being polite, that’s all.”

I nod, on edge as I glance toward the house—no sign of Salvatore. “Aren’t there rules about staff speaking to guests?” I take a retreating step, peering over my other shoulder. “I know Catarina was under strict rules.” Another guard meets my gaze from the boundary fence fifty yards away, his posture stiffening.

“Probably. I’m relatively new. Only been on the payroll a month or two.”

“Right. Well, just FYI, Lorenzo doesn’t appreciate fraternizing. You should get back to what you’re paid to do before you lose your job.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” There’s a chuckle in his voice and part of me wants to believe it’s a fun gesture. Unfortunately, I’m not that naive.

He doesn’t get back to work. Doesn’t show any intent to walk away.

Instead, he eyes me, the humor leaving his features for something more serious to take its place. It’s not threatening, but it’s not friendly either. “Look, I’m going to be honest and say I’m really curious about how you got to be in Mr. Cappelletti’s home, pregnant, and in a state to be smiling and laughing on a phone call. Are you a prisoner here or is this more of a romantic rendezvous?”

Warning bells ring in my ears as I take another retreating step. “That’s my business.”

“Wait.” He lunges forward, closing in, and grabs my healing wrist. “Your family are worried about you. They want you to come home.”

I balk, staring at his fingers a mere inch from my wound. “Please let me go.”

Normally I wouldn’t be nice. But this situation isn’t normal. I’m not at a club, batting away unwanted advances. I’m pregnant, recovering from an attack, and desperate to return inside to the small safe space I’ve carved out beside Salvatore.

“We’re just talking. And your family are making plans to?—”

“Ivy?” Salvatore’s vehement shout cuts through the birds’ chatter from across the yard.

The guard tightens his grip and steps closer. “Tell him everything’s all right before?—”

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