Page 113 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby
She does not.
I step in slowly and lift her chin with two fingers.
Her eyes are clear.
Her mouth is set, fear and stubborn in equal parts.
It hits me.
“How far?” I ask.
Her breath catches. She pulls back and puts both hands on the counter. “don't do that.”
“I'm not guessing anymore,” I say. “You are pregnant.”
She closes her eyes once, then opens them.
No drama.
Just truth.
My first feeling is relief I hate to show.
The second is a heat that has nothing to do with her and everything to do with the silence.
If I had known, I would have changed the perimeter.
I would have put distance between her and the Bureau’s sightlines.
I would have moved her out of the rotation that leaves her on the street at five in the morning.
I would have put the doctor I trust on call.
Every day she kept this in her pocket, she walked through a city that turns blood into a bargaining chip.
I take a breath and keep my hands on the edge of the table.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I was trying to figure out how,” she says. “Your world makes this complicated.”
“My world makes everything complicated, but it does not change this,” I say. “You don't hide something that puts you in play. Not from me. Not now.”
Her head snaps up.
“In play?”
“Don't twist it,” I say. “I'm not angry because you are pregnant. I'm angry because you walked through a week of danger without the extra cover I would have put around you. If Marco wants leverage, he finds it in the dark. If the Feds want pressure, they make you sit in a room with nice chairs and ask you to be a good citizen while you are sick over a trashcan. That is how this works.”
She flinches at that picture.
I hate that I put it in her head. I keep my voice low anyway.
“I need to keep you breathing. I need to keep the baby breathing. I can't do that if you shut me out.”
She takes a step toward me and stops.
“I did not shut you out to hurt you. I shut you out because I did not know what this would make me to you. A woman you have to protect for the optics. A name you bring to a table. An heir that men think they are owed a look at.”
