Page 29 of The Alpha's Heir

He moves the paperweight on his desk, clearly deep in thought.

“She may have thought that killing your father would have killed your union too, thus weakening your claim to your firm. From what I heard, your father loved Dominga and he loved his son too, and I do believe he would have divulged all this to her.”

Tony sits back and regards us both as a couple, raising both hands to include us both.

“It's common knowledge he handpicked Mr Suarez for you, Salma, and the fact that you resisted and fought against it is well known too and actually helped your take over. You are strong and we recognised that.”

I smile and look at Ale, it seems like an eternity ago I was resisting being his wife.

“My oldest is a girl too, and you have forced me to acknowledge that a woman can lead successfully. Dominga may have had delusional thoughts that she could lead in her son's place until he came of age and received all his training. Maybe she saw herself as Donna Regent?”

Finally breaking eye contact, he looks for his cigar once again.

“Or maybe she found a new man to fuck and wanted an out? Maybe your papa's balls started to sag, or he couldn’t get it up anymore. Maybe she didn’t do it at all and we are barking up the wrong tree completely.”

I smile at Tony; he is the first Don who continued to talk as he would if I was a man. He is also intelligently dissecting my problem for me, examining all the evidence we have so far in a clinical way. It is good to have an outside perspective that isn’t tainted by emotion.

“What I do know is that our laws are clear and if she did kill your papa, I will execute her. Unless you want the honours, of course?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. Of course, I want the honours and I know he is teasing me. “Can I take my brother? I’m sure papa would want me to look after him and raise him, especially seeing as his mother has run off and left him.” I hold my breath as he makes his decision.

Tony scrutinises me. “He’s a good kid, Sal, would you harm him?”

Rage starts to bubble up in me… how fucking dare he ask me that? It infuriates me, but I realise he is trying to protect Ricky and I would have asked him the same thing if the scenario was the other way around.

“I am well aware of our laws, Tony; children are off limits, but I wouldn’t harm him anyway. I want to be a big sister, the one I’m supposed to be. He is my kin, my last link to my papa.”

A lump forms in my throat as I think of my papa, and his final gifts to me. They are priceless, better than any money could buy: My Alejandro and now my little brother, Ricky.

“I will look after him, protect him, train him and, when the time comes, he will have his rightful share of our empire. That is what is right and it's what papa would have wanted.”

Tony addresses Alejandro. “Are you ready for this?”

My Ale smiles back at him. “Whatever she wants, I will give her anything… you know the score, Tony. She is my Queen. My Donna. Mi Amor.” A shiver of desire runs right through me that seems to ping on my clit. I am going to fuck his brains out later.

“First, I think we should tell Ricky who you are and let him decide.”

That sounds fair enough, but what will I do if he says he doesn’t want to come with me?

*** Melanie ***

I am feeling increasingly isolated and alone. Am I going crazy? I’m not sure. Visions of Ryan keep intruding on my peace and it's terrifying me. While relaxing in the bath last night I opened my eyes and he was hanging in front of me, his face purple and eyes bulging. I can't carry on like this.

I am too frightened to sleep, and I am exhausted from the hypervigilance. I wish I had a friend I could turn to.

I seek out my midwife, Sheila. I tell her what is going on. She is keen for me to get some mental health support and finds me the phone number for the ante-natal psychiatric support team.

Sheila give me the details of support groups I could attend. All expectant mothers from all walks of life. I could go and make new friends in a similar phase of their lives, and we could support each other. It sounds perfect.

However, as with anything in my life, it is far from perfect. I attend the first support group later that evening. I walk in alone and everyone turns to look at me. The room falls silent. I am the only person without a partner. The perfect couples look me up and down and the imperfect ones seem happier that the scummy single mum has turned up, so they look more respectable in comparison.

At first, no one talks to me except the woman running the support group who offers me a drink before we both make awkward small talk about the weather and the latest political fiasco in the news.

We all sit in the support circle to introduce ourselves. There is the usual, “I am Tarquin, and this is my wife Audrey, and we are pregnant,” as well as a few other stuck ups. When it is my turn, I stand.

“Hi, my name is Melanie, I am pregnant with my third child. My first daughter. I am happy to meet you all.”

No one else is questioned, some people wave and say hi, but as I sit down, I am bombarded by questions.

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