Page 40 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

The journey to the airport seems too long, even though we run every red light.

I’ve never known terror before, not like this.

One thought runs through my mind. If Christian hurts my wife, I will make him scream so loud the Devil himself will turn away in fear.

15

Keira

Can I hear a violin?

I blink the fuzz away from my eyes and try to work out where the hell I am.

My limbs ache as I sit up. I’m in a living room of some kind. High ceiling, walls covered in portraits of people that seem strangely familiar. Antique furniture, including a black piano over by the window.

Outside, the sun is streaming in, and I can hear the distant thrum of traffic alongside birds singing.

It’s early morning. Where am I? How did I get here?

“Good morning,” a man’s voice says, his Italian accent thick. Over by the door is a man in a crisp white suit, his skin tanned, his eyes dark.

He’s setting a violin down on the table next to him.

“Stradivarius,” he says. “Cost fifteen million at auction. What do you think?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I apologize. Where are my manners? My name is Christian Garibaldi.”

I sit up straight. “You’re the man who killed my father.”

He looks wounded, like I’ve stabbed him in the heart. “I’m afraid you were misinformed. I would never do anything to harm your father. Coffee?”

He walks over to a tray and pours himself a cup. “No?” He turns around to face me, holding the cup and breathing in the aroma. “Salvatore Valentino killed your father, not me.”

“What?”

He takes a seat opposite me, sipping at his coffee, his legs stretched out in front of him. “Your husband is a liar, Keira. Comes from a family of liars.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I see he’s wormed his way into your mind. Ask yourself a question. Can you really trust a killer?”

I say nothing. His smile broadens. “I see you’re the intelligent sort, so let me explain. We have much to do this morning.”

He points at one of the portraits. “That somber-looking gentleman is your father. Aristede. His last wish was formeto marry you. Here, in your house.

“Now, I’m not the marrying type, but I do honor my agreements. So I asked Salvatore to send my request along with an invitation to visit your father before he passed on.”

After everything Salvatore and I have been through, this ought to sound like lies. But a rolling sickness has begun dep in my stomach, and my unborn baby isn’t the cause.

“Salvatore decided to take you for himself to mess with me,” Christian continues. “He expected to become head of the high council. That was why he was here in Rome.

“He was furious when your father told him I was taking over. Told me he’d get revenge, would see me dead before he saw me marry you.

“So he goes over to the States and keeps you all for himself. But the commission didn’t like him overruling the high council. They arranged for you to be delivered to me.

“Now, I wouldn’t dream in a million years of drugging an innocent woman or putting her on a flight but the commission insisted. Please, understand that none of this was my doing.”

---