Page 42 of His Nephew's Ex
“Miss Parlato? I have your test results.”
As if I need confirmation of what my body has been telling me for weeks.
“And?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Congratulations. You’re definitely pregnant. Everything looks normal and healthy so far.”
Pregnant. I’m really pregnant. I only had sex once, and I’m pregnant.
“Miss Parlato? Are you there?”
“Yes,” I manage. “I’m here.”
“I’d like to schedule you for another appointment next week to discuss prenatal care and—”
“I’ll call you back,” I interrupt, hanging up before she can say anything else.
Pregnant. Officially, medically, undeniably pregnant with Simeone Codella’s child.
The confirmation should scare me, but instead, it fills me with a strange sense of calm. The waiting is over. The uncertainty is done. Now there’s only the truth and whatever comes after I finally find the courage to share it.
I stand up on shaking legs and start walking toward the house, toward Simeone’s office, toward a conversation that will change everything between us. My heart hammers against my ribs with each step, but I don’t slow down. Can’t slow down.
It’s time.
I don’t knock on his office door—just push it open and step inside like I own the place. Simeone looks up from his computer, and the expression on his face tells me he’s been expecting this moment.
“Stellina.” His voice is carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands have stilled on the keyboard. “Ready to talk?”
“Yes.” I close the door behind me with deliberate precision, then turn to face the man whose child I’m carrying. “I’m ready.”
He leans back in his chair, giving me his full attention. “I’m listening.”
For a moment, words fail me completely. How do you change someone’s entire world with a single sentence? How do you tell a man who controls everything that he’s about to become responsible for something completely beyond his control?
“I’m pregnant.”
14
Simeone
The words hit me like a bullet to the chest, stopping my heart for one perfect, crystalline moment before it explodes back to life with a rhythm that could power the entire city.
Pregnant.
Loriana stands in my office, chin raised defiantly—that gesture that always stirs something in me. She delivers life-changing news with casual directness, but I catch the tremor in her hands that betrays her fear.
She’s carrying my child.
My child.
The possessive roar that rises in my chest is primal, territorial, absolutely devastating in its intensity. This magnificent woman—fire and steel wrapped in jasmine perfume—has taken the seed I planted in her willing body and created something miraculous.
“How long have you known?” My voice comes out rougher than intended, thick with emotions I’m still processing.
“I suspected for some days now, and Dr. Scalise just confirmed it.” She wraps her arms around herself like armor, and I hate that she feels the need to protect herself from me. “I’ve only been with you that one time.”
That one time is referring to the night in her apartment when I claimed her innocence and marked her as mine in the most fundamental way possible. When I buried myself so deep inside her that I left a permanent reminder of our connection.
