Page 60 of Captive Bride: Armani
The first name rings a bell. Isn’t that the name of the sister they lost in that tragic boating accident? My heart aches with a mixture of sorrow and joy. Mostly joy, though.
Dante adds, “Frankie is supposed to rest, but first she’ll have her golden hour with Lili. Once that’s over, they’ll move the baby to the hospital nursery. You’re welcome to wait to see her then, or you can come back for visiting hours later this afternoon. For now, I need to go be with my wife and daughter. I can’t express our gratitude enough for all of your support.”
Nobody budges, but Mrs. Abbott immediately pulls out her cellphone and has Livvie help her figure out how to set an alarm. Karina falls asleep with her head on my shoulder, Charlie flips through every single home décor magazine in the room, and honestly, I don’t know how the rest of us manage to stand the waiting, but we get through it just fine.
When Mrs. Abbott’s phone alarm goes off, there’s a veritable stampede as the Abbotts and Bellantis hightail it to the nursery wing. I hang back as everyone plasters themselves in front of the big window to ooh and ahh over the newborn. Armani finally realizes I’m not at his side, and he turns around and motions me closer, a huge grin on his face.
Stepping tentatively forward, I let him propel me in front of him, my back pressed to his chest, and then I’m looking down at her in her little bassinet. Baby Lili. She’s sleeping, wrapped up like a tiny pink burrito, a matching pink cap on her head. Thick, dark lashes rest on her fat cheeks, and she has the tiniest nose and sweetest rosebud mouth that I have ever seen.
In her sleep, Lili lets out a pink-gummed yawn, and as everyone coos at her through the glass, a maternal instinct I didn’t even know I had suddenly rises up in me…along with the urge to protect her at all costs from anything that might cause her harm. But Lili won’t go through what I did. Frankie will be a far better mom to her daughter than the one I had.
“What a perfect little angel,” I whisper.
“She is,” Karina murmurs next to me. “And she’s going to be strong. So strong.”
I think about the world Lili will be growing up in, the family that will be raising her. Karina is right. Lili’s also going to be surrounded by badass women who will be great role models. Frankie, Charlie, Livvie, Mrs. Abbott. Karina, too.
There’s a sniffle down the line of baby admirers, and I subtly look over at Charlie. She’s dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Livvie and Mrs. Abbott are taking photos and videos of Lili, and Clayton and Marco are standing back a ways, probably to get some space from the chorus of female shrieks of delight that accompany Lili’s every last brow twitch or sleepy pout.
Another wave of emotion rolls over me, one of complete overwhelm, and I can’t place what’s causing it. I suspect it’s all the time I’ve been spending with the Bellanti family. The look of softness and adoration on Armani’s face nearly undoes me. How can such a hard, sharp-edged man turn to a pile of mush in the blink of an eye? It’s clear he adores his new niece.
My eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears. Which, of course, is ridiculous. I try to remind myself that I’m here to complete a mission and that I need to focus on that, no matter what. Even if I am developing serious feelings for Armani. Oh, God.
I won’t be able to stay here much longer without crying. Excusing myself quietly, I untangle myself from Armani’s arms and head down the hallway. I’m not sure until that exact moment that I’m going to leave the hospital.
Taking out my cell, I send Jules a text.Are you home? I have news.
She responds instantly.Yes. Come over.
On my way.
As I wait for my Uber, I half expect to receive a call or text from Armani wondering where I went and what’s taking so long, but my phone remains silent. He’s too wrapped up in the baby to notice that I’m gone. Which is actually for the best, considering what I’m about to do.
It’s a short drive, and I’m feeling somewhat more collected by the time I arrive at her penthouse. I find her waiting at the door with a glass of champagne for each of us.
She looks amazing in a silk kimono with bright blue and white flowers all over it, a white tank top, and designer jeans. Her hair is curled today, piled loosely on the top of her head. She looks like a supermodel who rolled around in bed for a few minutes before getting up. Perfectly disheveled and, as usual, stunning.
In contrast, the emotional weight I’ve been carrying today has me feeling heavy and exhausted. My hands are still stained from picking grapes. There’s dirt under my fingernails and my jeans have a few grass stains.
Jules gives me a quick once-over, lightly curls her lip, and motions me inside.
“Have you taken a second job as a gardener?” she jokes.
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Armani had me up at three thirty this morning to pick grapes.”
Her lip curls. The entire way this time. “Oh, you poor dear. Take this. You need it.”
She hands me the champagne flute, still bubbling and fizzing. I drink eagerly.
“So, what’s the news you’ve brought me?” Her voice turns professional. Eager.
“Frankie had her baby. A girl. They named her Liliana.”
Jules’s fingers go lax around her flute. The glass nearly slips out of her grip, but she catches the base with her other hand just in time. Champagne splashes over the rim, spilling onto her bare feet.
“Shit.”
“Are you okay? I’ll get some paper towels,” I say, dashing into the kitchen.
