Page 101 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
"Where the fuck have you been?" Gabriel demands, and there is genuine fear in his voice, raw and undisguised. "We woke up and you were gone, we searched the entire house—" He gestures wildly around him. "We thought?—"
"We thought Patrick got to you," Luca finishes, his voice cracking. "Or that you—that you decided to run. That we lost you."
The front door opens again behind me, and Dante strides in, his hair disheveled, still pulling on a jacket over his t-shirt, his expression thunderous.
"She is not on the road, I checked the whole perimeter up to Fifth Avenue, I think we need to—" He stops dead when he sees me, and the relief that floods his face is immediately, violently replaced by fury. "Where the hell were you?"
"I can explain—" I start, my breathing still ragged from the run home.
"Do you have any idea how scared we were?" Dante is advancing on me now, and I can see his hands shaking, can see the terror beneath the anger. "We thought something happened to you. We thought Patrick took you. We thought you did something stupid —"
"I needed to—" I try again.
"To what?" Gabriel cuts me off, and he sounds angry now too, all the fear transforming into something sharper, more volatile. "To disappear in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you were going? To leave us to wake up alone and panic because we had no idea if you were safe?"
"We almost called every hospital in Manhattan," Luca adds, his voice hard despite the tremor underneath. "Almost went to the police. Almost—God, Lina, we thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere."
They are all looking at me now—three men who love me, who were terrified for me, who are currently furious with me for scaring them.
And I realize I am still clutching the pregnancy test in my hand, the two lines probably smudged from my sweaty palm during the run home.
"You are going to be punished for this," Luca says, and despite the anger in his voice I can hear the relief underneath, the love. "So fucking hard, Lina. You scared ten years off my life."
"I know," I say, and I do know, can see it written all over their faces—the fear, the panic, the desperate relief now that I am standing in front of them safe and whole. "I am so sorry, I really am, but I had to—I needed to?—"
I am fumbling over my words, my brain still scattered from the run and the revelation and the weight of everything I need to tell them.
Just show them, a voice in my head says. Words are not working. Just show them.
I hold up the pregnancy test in my hand, the two lines clearly visible in the bright foyer lighting.
"Surprise," I say weakly, and my voice cracks on the word.
All three of them go absolutely silent.
The anger drains from their faces like water, replaced by shock so complete it is almost comical. Gabriel's eyes go wide, his mouth falling open slightly. Luca goes completely still, his pacing stopped mid-step. Dante just stares at the test like it might be a hallucination, like if he blinks it will disappear.
"Is that—" Gabriel starts, his voice barely above a whisper.
"A pregnancy test," I confirm, and now that I have started I cannot stop, the words tumbling out in a rush. "And yes, it is mine, and yes, it is positive, and no, I do not know whose it is because we have all been—well. You know. And I am sorry I scared you, I really am, but I had to know before I made any decisions, and I could not do it here because what if someone saw me, and I just—I needed to know?—"
Dante closes the distance between us in two long strides and kisses me so hard my head spins, cutting off my rambling. His hands cup my face with a gentleness that contrasts completely with the intensity of the kiss, and when he pulls back his eyes are bright with unshed tears.
"You are pregnant," he breathes, and there is wonder in his voice like he cannot quite believe it.
"I am pregnant," I confirm, and saying it out loud to them makes it feel more real somehow, makes it settle into my bones as fact rather than possibility.
"With our baby." Not a question. A statement of fact, absolute and undeniable.
"With someone's baby," I correct weakly. "I do not know whose specifically?—"
Luca lets out a whoop loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood and sweeps me up in his arms, spinning me around while I clutch the pregnancy test and laugh despite everything. When he sets me down, his hands frame my face and he kisses me hard, his smile so wide I can feel it against my lips.
"You are having a baby!" He pulls back just enough to look at me, his green eyes bright with joy and tears. "Our baby. Holy shit, Fiorella, you are having our baby."
"Luca, be careful with her," Gabriel says, but his voice is choked with emotion and he is smiling—actually smiling, that rare genuine expression that transforms his entire face. He moves closer, his hand settling on my lower back with careful reverence like I might break. "Pregnant women need to be treated gently."
"I am not suddenly made of glass," I protest, but my voice is thick with tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying.
