Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3) (18 page)

“So what’s going on with you and Enzo right now?” I ask, pausing only to look at her. “You seem cozy.”

“We are,” she responds, her tone feather light. “We both agree we feel like no time has passed, but we’re both aware we’re different people and rightly so. We’re going to take it slow, see where life takes us, go on dates. I’ve told him he can go back to cooking me those gorgeous meals any day when we used to eat by candlelight.”

“You will make it back to one another, though, right?” I ask, my voice tightening at the fear that they won’t try hard. “I don’t want to see you two apart anymore.”

“Don’t you worry,” she quells my nervousness. “I’m sticking around for more than the man I love.” She grabs the tray she was using for drinks earlier and starts to put the drinks on it. “When are you going to tell the rest of them about the baby?” she asks, nudging me, and I can see the bright, beaming smile she wears in my peripheral vision.

“I don’t know,” I reply, pondering on the thoughts. “I mean should we?” I ask, wondering if Zane wants the same thing. “I don’t know how they’d feel about baby news.”

"What baby news?" Enzo's fierce tone cuts into our whispered conversation.

We both turn as if we were one being, both silenced and both shell-shocked. We slowly look at one another but refrain from admitting anything that could incriminate us.

"Alessa?" he asks, a crease forming on his brow. He looks wounded as if she's lied to him and is the one with a child. I watch as the cracks explode to life as confusion disguises itself as the truth. "What's going on? Is there something you aren't telling us?"

Neither one of us talk. Enzo doesn't even look at me, not for one second, as he focuses on Alessa. I loathe how I'm tarnished with one brush - the one that forces me to be seen as barren. The thought makes my eyes water, as I don't even seem to enter his mind as the one who could possibly be pregnant.

I sniffle to keep my composure, shuffle on the spot, and feel my muscles become rigid.

"Amelia?" Enzo echoes my name, and I look up, unaware my gaze had even dropped as desolation began to sit on my shoulders. "It's you."

His statement is awarded with my lips curling into the tiniest of smiles, and my watery eyes turning doleful.
Yes, it's me
, my voice rises up within me.

"Oh, my God," Enzo says, shock filters into ebbs in his voice. "You're pregnant?!"

His exclamation is loud and proud, and as soon as he's realized he's let a massive cat out of the bag, he quiets down. But it's too late; all outside conversation has hushed, and I know there will be people outside eager to hear the truth in Enzo's shouting.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, but I don’t totally believe he is. “Well, I’m not actually.” He walks over, grabbing the full bowl of fruit, and nudges me forward. “Get out there, now.”

“You’re throwing me in the deep, you bastardo!” I cuss, my eyes wider than ever. “I can’t go out there now.”

“You can, and you’ll thank me for it,” he presses, smirking sanctimoniously.

I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s not my news to tell.”

“Just get out there, Lia.”

“I’m not saying anything, loud mouth,” I remark, scowling at him.

I walk out of the kitchen trying to act as normal as possible, but every pair of eyes burns into me - even those who know. I smile awkwardly and go and sit back, trying to act casual.

"Something you need to tell us?" Allana asks; her voice is so casual it makes me even more nervous than ever.

"I'm engaged," I squawk, raising a shaking hand. I force a smile through my awkwardness and watch as eyes continue to stare at me.

“We noticed the ring,” Bruno comments, nodding his head at the ring. “We were just waiting for you to say something. Now, is there something else?”

“No,” I say, frowning as I shake my head and sink further into my seat beside Zane. “There’s nothing else,” I say, feeling my lie burning all over my face. “Enzo was overreacting.”

“No, I wasn’t!” my brother exclaims. “Don’t try and worm your way out of this, Amelia.”

“I’m not!” I exclaim, my voice hitting a little too high, to be honest. “I don’t know what you heard, but no one here is pregnant.” All eyes narrow and burn into Zane and me. “I’m not!”

I’m only arguing because this isn’t my own surprise to spring on everyone. Zane has equal say, and we’ve barely had time to breathe and get used to the idea, let alone discuss when we’re going to let the cat out of the bag.

However, Zane clears his throat and sits forward as the argument continues, but he remains silent.

“Look, you can just tell us,” Carlo states, now joining the chorus. “Not like secrets are kept between us, and it’s not like we all don’t know you fuck like rabbits. I mean it was only the other day I caught you in the front room in there.”

“Carlo!” I gasp, my eyes flicking to the children, but I breathe a sigh of relief as they all continue to play. I sink back, my face afire with embarrassment. “Just leave it before everyone knows the ins and outs of my life.”

“Well, I do,” Carlo says, deliberately causing my blush to go into overdrive. “You don’t lock doors, so you being pregnant wouldn’t be a shocker.”

“Well, it would,” I mutter, shooting him a death glare. “We all know that was off the cards for me.”

"Oh, fuck this," Zane mutters, laughing a little to disperse the worry that he's about to get grilled by the Abbiati brother. "Amelia's pregnant!" He puts his hands up in the air. “There you go, I said it.” He sinks next to me on the seat, a hand coming around my shoulder and drawing me close. “This woman here finally said yes and offered me our very own little family all in one afternoon.”

He lifts a hand to my chin, bringing my lips in to kiss his, and while I feel like everyone melts away, the chorus of cheers and claps is enough to remind me we’re not alone. I release from the kiss, putting my forehead against Zane’s and looking him in the eyes before turning coyly to face everyone.

“Officially seven weeks,” I comment, trying to withhold my excitement. “Found out while in California.”

“Which is how I came into the picture,” Dante muses, lightening up. “Alessa, Ryleigh, and I have been in close contact for some time. She called me when Amelia collapsed, but we got her seen to, got her discharged, and all came back to Manhattan.”

“You collapsed?” Enzo asks, granted thick support from Carlo and Bruno over this turn of events.

“Lack of food and heat.” My comment comes across dryly, and I even roll my eyes. “But the baby is healthy, and that’s all I need to know. I just don’t like to do things halfway.”

“Ah, come here,” Enzo says, getting up only to yank me from my seat and wrap his arms around me. He clings on tight as if I’ve brought all the hope back to his heart. When he releases the brotherly hug, Carlo and Bruno are there ready and waiting, moving on to congratulate Zane for a moment.

If this were the moment the stars began to fall from the sky like tumbling jewels and the world stopped spinning, I wouldn’t be in the slightest bit unfulfilled by the life I’ve come to lead. I’ve been granted second chances, been bestowed by all manners of happiness, felt the hands of my soul mate caress my heart back to life, and survived the greatest of horrors.

This is a good life, one with so much more to offer.

***

“This is going to be a waste of my time and effort.” I feel like I’m sulking, and maybe I am. “Why are we doing this the day before Manuel’s anniversary?”

“I think we’re all excited due to some baby news.” Enzo’s comment is curt, but I can’t mistake that ounce of animation in his voice and expression.

“Gio coming back doesn’t help matters,” I mutter dryly. “What really happened with him?”

“Well, I heard Carlo’s men had a grievance, so added to what Zane and Dante had both done.” Enzo looks into the middle mirror, finding Carlo grinning back like a goddamn fool. “He got everything he wanted.”

“Well, almost,” I mutter, keeping my gaze out of the window. “I want one final visit.”

“Amelia.” Enzo sighs, exasperatedly.

“No, don’t try and talk me out of it. I’ve spoken to Zane about it, and I’m taking a little trip to Gio’s hospital room tomorrow for one final time.”

“What are you plotting?” Bruno asks, struggling to work me out.

“Nothing. Just one final visit.” I try to resist the smile pulling on my cheeks, but I can’t. “I’m also thinking about cooking his favorite meal.”

“She’s turning soft,” Carlo points out, albeit sarcastically. “That baby’s messing with her.”

“I just fancy leaving with one final threat,” I say as we turn into the driveway of the Abbiati mansion.

“Well, this is the shithole of all shitholes,” Dante comments, leaning forward between the two front seats to get a closer look. “He still lives in there?”

“Yup,” I say, quick and precise. “It’s amazing what can happen in a year.”

“We’re discussing the Gio visit later,” Enzo scolds; I can sense he’s uncomfortable with my choice of actions.

“Let’s get through with this first.”

Enzo pulls up in front of the large front doors. Turning off the engine, he waits as we all clamber out and walk up the steps. We all still have our keys, but they’re usually locked tightly away in a safe at Bruno’s work so we have no constant link with this house. They’re kept there purely for safekeeping, and they’ve been used more in the past two weeks than they have in the last year.

“Think I’ll go and shock him.”

Dante goes ahead, rushing for the noises coming from the kitchen. I can hear the absolute animation in his voice as if he’s going to get some kicks out of this reappearance in Sal’s life.

“Wow, Uncle Sal, what you’ve done with this house,” we hear Dante’s voice resound. “The decoration here isn’t quite as nice as I remember.”

I want to laugh, but once I’m in the kitchen, there is no reason to find humor. My father stands, keeping himself propped up by the counter on the other side of the house, looking as if he’s seen a ghost. Technically, he has. No one ever passed on the memo of Dante’s false death due to who my father was and where he stood in command; knowing about Dante would have been a fatal error. My father looks all of his seventy years, clearly not helped much by the intake of excessive alcohol. He looks gaunt, and that sadness that I had seen before is now an overwhelming feat on him.

“Something wrong, Uncle Sal?” Dante asks, stepping into the room.

“Stop right there!” Sal curses, putting a hand up to stop Dante. “Y-you’re dead,” he stammers. “You were pulled from the remains with Marcello. You died!”

“See, about that,” Dante starts, smiling awfully happy over this. “I killed him in order to get free, so you could class yourself lucky that your children aren’t quite so murderous. I don’t know whose body was dragged out.”

My father scoffs, still not quite believing what’s right in front of his eyes – as per fucking usual. He stumbles some as he makes his way across the room, and I feel a throb of embarrassment rock over me. The downfall of a man sighted as a king is shameful.

“It’s nice to see you spent your money we sent back well,” Carlo jokes, quipping sardonically.

My father only moves to grab the bottle of whiskey and a dirty glass from the sink. “You sending the money back only helped with replenishing the liquor cabinet.”

“Now, why are you here?” he asks, sloshing his drink around as he waves his glass in the air. “I’m sure it’s not to tell me that Dante fucking Valentino is a traitor.”

“I’m not a traitor,” Dante defies. A mirthful laugh crawls from his throat, unwilling to allow my father to mock him. “Not like my grandfather was, anyway. I fought for what was good. Getting rid of men like Marcello Valentino was a plus, but you’re right, that’s not why we’re here.”

“Gio’s back,” Enzo snaps, focusing on my father in order to see his reaction. “Did you know?”

“No,” my father responds, a little too fast.

“He came back for Amelia,” Enzo continues, his tone lashing as if he’s already condemned my father as a guilty man. “He was lucky Zane’s able to throw a good punch or God knows what would have happened.”

I stay at the back, out of the way, guarded fiercely. However, it doesn’t take long for my father to find me, to seek me out. The man who looks at me, finding me in the crowd, is a stranger to me. Even compared to the man he was when we came back only a few weeks ago. This man is laying on rock bottom; he can’t sink further.

“I didn’t know,” he says, the conviction rolls off his tongue so believingly. “I didn’t send him to you,
bambina
. He’s been with your uncle all this time, but I’ve not known anything else. Alberto kept quiet on the issue, but I’ve had no hand in Gio and what’s happened to him this past year. I understand how volatile this time of year is for you all.”

“I don’t think you do, Sal,” Bruno leers, his demeanor mirroring Enzo. “We wouldn’t describe it as volatile. We’ve been brought closer together over the past few months, even more so over the past few days due to revelations. Gio coming back was a prime opportunity to seek the closure we’ve all needed.”

“He’s in the hospital,” Carlo states coldly. “I made sure that he will pay for what he’s done after his release. I made sure he keeps quiet on all matters too that could incriminate us all. He’s been sorted.”