I disarm the alarm and head to the kitchen to grab dishes, silverware, and something to drink.
It’s not quite eight o’clock yet, but it has to be Olivia’s car parked out front. I don’t recognize the vehicle, and it is old and battered. She could use the money from being a surrogate to get herself a new set of wheels.
Maybe I can sweeten the deal if she’s on the fence. Offer to buy her a car.
Would that be crossing the line?
Like I haven’t already been inappropriate by suggesting she become a surrogate.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Sometimes I speak before I think. It’s a bad trait that could destroy me. In my case, it’s gotten me most of what I wanted out of life. And the few things it hasn’t, well, I have my family to help me with that.
My mafia family.
My biological family is dead to me. Well, my sister, that is, she’s all that’s left of the Barone’s, and she betrayed me.
I leave the bag of food on the table and head outside. Did Olivia take a walk?
After I unlock the gate, I step outside and notice her head pop up from the backseat.
Was she sleeping in her car?
I approach her vehicle as she opens the back door and climbs out. She has quite a bit of clothes in the backseat, a pillow and blanket too.
“Are you living in your car?” I ask.
Her cheeks burn as she glances past me, avoiding eye contact. “No, I was just taking a nap until it was time for our meeting,” Olivia says.
“Come on inside,” I say and usher her through the open gate and into the house. “I brought dinner home. There’s plenty, and I’ll make you a plate.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Olivia says.
“Have you eaten dinner already?” I lock up the house, arming the alarm before grabbing a second plate for her.
“Uh, no. Not yet. It’s fine. I had a big lunch.” Her eyes widen when she realizes what she said. “I mean, the sandwich I had was only a few hours ago.”
“You’ll eat with me.” I pull out the takeout containers, open the plastic lids, and lay them out on the counter. I grab enough spoons, one for each dish, and then make myself a plate.
Olivia stands there, staring at the food.
Is she not going to help herself?
“Here,” I hand her the plate that I intended for myself and quickly dish out dinner onto a second plate for myself.
If she’s shy, she doesn’t need to be.
“Come, sit at the table.” I walk her into the dining room, bringing two bottles of water with me.
The thought of alcohol fleets through my mind, but I want her to be sober for our discussion.
“Thank you for dinner,” she says as she sits. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I get the feeling that she wouldn’t have eaten if I didn’t. “It isn’t a problem,” I insist. “Tell me, Olivia, what makes you want to be a surrogate?” I need to know that she’s not doing this only for the money. That she wants to carry my child. It’s no easy feat.
Her gaze is on her meal as she hungrily devours the food on her plate. “I should probably tell you what you want to hear, how I can give you something that you can’t do on your own. The joy of bringing a life into this world. How I can gift you something that money can’t compare to, but the truth is my reasons are more selfish.”
“So, it is about the money.”