Page 59 of Forbidden Pregnancy
“So nothing.”
“Fuck, CC. I’m going to kill dad.”
Her eyebrows raise. She thinks I obey my father out of weakness, but I don’t. I obey him because I understand that our world exists in a delicate balance. We all have a role to play in this ecosystem and as Michael Corsini’s eldest son, it has typically been in my best interests to play the role of protector and occasional disciplinarian.
My father has gone too far in toying with Myra. I have never asked him for a damned thing. I never stepped out of line. I didn’t even seek his permission or involvement. He crushed her and took her from me simply because he could. Simply because he couldn’t stand not having control over this one area of my life.
After I sacrificed everything for him. My football career. My life.
“I’m not joking. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you too. Make no mistake, Myra is my woman to protect.Mine.And if anyone tries to take her from me, I’ll put them in the ground without a second of hesitation.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Myra
Present Day
Aweight lifts from me after telling CC the truth. But I don’t know if I should tell Michael, or if I even want to. He doesn’t know about what happened and over the years, I have come to believe that he never knew. I wrote letters. I disappeared. What do I expect Michael to evendoabout this?
The day after telling her, nothing changes around the house. CC might be a little softer, but it’s easy to attribute that to her guilt over drugging me in the first place. I would haveneverchosen to re-enter Michael Corsini’s life knowing what his family could do to me.
CC’s response to everything suggests that they’re responsible for all of this – the safe houses, Michael’s paranoia and what to me seems inevitable – my future assassination. So imagine my surprise when I’m between twenty-six and twenty-seven weeks pregnant and Michael struts over to the breakfast nook where CC and I are enjoying oatmeal.
He wears more clothing with his sister around, and I feel a sorrowful pang at missing out on Michael wandering the house shirtless. His sexy chest and stomach can sometimes numb the impact of his terrible attitude. When he enters the room, Michael scowls at CC, but he doesn’t look at me. Panic surges.
Did she tell him?
CC waves at her brother, ignoring his scowl. By now, I know she’s used to him and his grumpy ways…
“CC, pack your things. We’re going back to Buffalo tonight. Myra? Bedroom.”
That’s it – not a question, not a polite greeting.
“I’m pregnant.”
Michael’s expression softens and he reaches for my hand. “Then I’ll help you up.”
He touches me and I wonder if he’s more distracted than harsh. Michael grasps my hand and helps me off the couch. The baby makes me feel more unbalanced than ever before. Not just because of the weight, but the emotional state pregnancy leaves me with. Michael’s touch comforts me, but the rest of his body language unnerves me.
Maybe she did tell him.
Once we’re in the bedroom alone, Michael shuts the door behind him and leans against it. Twelve years after we first met and he’s definitely not the same man. He lost an eye – I still don’t know how that happened – and he has streaks of grey along the front strands of his hair. There’s a little grey in his beard, which only adds to how much older and distinguished he looks.
If I didn’t know that he was a mobster, I wouldn’t suspect a thing. The missing eye and Michael’s build might prompt me to believe he’s in the military instead. He rakes his fingers throughhis hair, tousling the thick front portion before he considers me seriously.
“We’re going back to Buffalo.”
“I heard you.”
“Before we leave,” Michael asks, looking up at me with that one icy blue eyeball. His false eye remains unfocused on me, staring straight ahead. “We need to talk.”
I don’t know what he means by that. Michael spreads his arms and gestures for me to embrace him. Slowly and with a fair degree of confusion, I approach and allow him to wrap his strong arms around me. Strange. Michael doesn’t hide from affection, but he tends to be more aggressive and sexual.
My baby bump presses into him and the contact is enough to make our little one flip inside my tummy in response to his closeness. What we both created feels truly beautiful, despite the turmoil of the outside world.
Michael scowls. “This isn’t easy for me.”
I don’t know what he means, but I try to offer some support.
