“You know, Settimo, you could’ve stopped this the whole time. You still can. All it would take is you giving the word, and I could have my life back. But you won’t.” Alex steps up to my desk and grips the edge, leaning toward me. Tears shine in her eyes. “Fuck you for that.”
“Alex,” I say with a sigh. “If it were that simple, I would do it. You’re a made man’s fiancée. That in itself keeps you safe, and it’s the better way.”
“Better for who?”
I open my mouth, knowing the words I want to say but not saying them. Better for everyone. That’s what I should tell her, but it would be a lie.
It’s better for me. It’s better for me if no one knows I got mixed up with a Russian woman in the first place. That I stole a made man’s woman. And then threw her away.
It’s better for my image. It’s better for me.
“Did you need something else?” I ask instead of answering her.
She stares at me a few seconds, her knuckles white as she grips my desk, and her face is a mask of anger and sorrow. The kind that comes from a deep betrayal, a deep heartache.
I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
“No,” she says, standing. Her chest expands and falls as she composes herself, and she takes something from her pocket. She lays it on my desk and keeps her hand over it. “I won’t be contacting you again.”
She takes her hand off the object and leaves the room.
I grab the small stick and study it in my hand, my breath sticking in my throat when I realize what this is… and what it means.
“Alex!” I yell, shoving from my desk. I race into the hall and spot her hurrying up the stairs. “Alex, wait!”
I take off after her and catch her at the top of the stairs. I grab her arm and swing her toward me. “What’s this?” I hold up the pregnancy test with a shaky hand. Blood drains from my face, and my head spins.
So many things rush through my mind, I can’t focus on any one thing. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.
“Paolo and I are going to say it’s his, so you’re off the hook… I’m not getting an abortion, so don’t bother trying to talk me into it. I just thought you should know.”
She pulls away from me, and my fingers stay stretched out toward her. She turns and walks through the door, into the strip club above the interrogation room.
The dizziness overwhelms me, and I flatten my back against the cool wall and slide to sit. I rest my hand on my knee and stare at the pregnancy test. It’s like I’m transported back in time to twenty years ago, my biggest nightmare coming true.
I’m an Italian man.
She’s a Russian woman.
I’m the fuckingdonof the familia.
I run my thumb over the little blue cross, imagining what my child will look like. Who they will be. What they will think of their father. If they’ll ever know how much I love their mother.
The heavy door to the interrogation room bangs shut, and Lorenzo appears, climbing up the stairs. I glance at him, covered in blood, for only a moment before going back to the pregnancy test.
“What’s wrong?” he asks when he reaches me.
I hold out the test to him, and he takes it, showing nothing of what he’s thinking.
He hands it back to me and meets my eyes. “What are you going to do?”
That’s a good fucking question.
My chest hurts to the point I think I wonder if this is what the onset of a heart attack feels like. I rest my head against the wall.
The only thing I know for sure is I won’t be making the same mistake I did before. It wouldn’t even be necessary.
Alex could claim it’s Paolo’s and even say it happened after the wedding. She wouldn’t be shunned or disgraced in any way. My child would grow up with another father, my love would have another husband.