Page 112 of War Within
Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, I peeked around corners, opened doors, and surveyed the space before meandering through each room on the way to the living room. No sign of anyone. My mind was playing tricks on me. My life choices were now catching up with me.
If I was pregnant, I would scream. Sex with Giovanni was the best sex I ever had. To deny that would have been a lie. But that did not mean I wanted to have his kid. He did not wear protection and I had not taken my birth control since I left my handbag at the office the morning we had to flee.
When I stepped in the living room, there was a tall, chiseled blonde man with his back turned, staring out the window at the New York City skyline. His shirt hugged his back and muscular biceps. Tilting my head, I raked my gaze over his body. His rear, flawlessly sculpted. That guy lived in the gym.
“Uh, hi?” I mumbled.
He spun around, dropping his hands to the side. “Jane?!”
“Nicky?!” Stunned, I leapt out of my skin.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” He gasped.
“What areyoudoing here?!” How did Giovanni know every single damn person I knew?!
“Oh my God, you're Gio's Jane?!” He almost shouted.
“Apparently not anymore.”
“I'm your personal bodyguard and this is bad. This is so fucking bad right now.”
With all the freaking out, neither of us heard Giovanni enter the room. As he sauntered up, he did not speak about what had just happened, so it was safe to assume he was on a call or in his own world when he arrived.
Sickness rose within me. My insides churned in circles and danced in figure eights. I felt ill to my very core. Pressure built in my chest, a lump formed in my throat.
“Boss.” Nick greeted Giovanni.
I cocked my head, astonished Nick would call him that.
Giovanni gave him a simple nod. “Good morning, Jane.”
Unable to hold it in anymore, I covered my mouth, sprinting out of the living room, down the hall into the master bathroom. I shoved the toilet lid up, bending over the bowl. Between the stress of the job and whatever was going on with my body, I could not stop myself from continuously vomiting yellow liquid before it turned to only bile.
Giovanni rushed in shortly. “Are you okay?!”
“Please go!”
“What's wrong?!” He stepped closer, rubbing my back which made it worse. “Why are you so sick?!”
“My nerves are getting to me.” I choked, flushing the toilet before trudging to the sink, washing my hands. I grabbed the mouthwash, rinsing my mouth twice.
“Are you sure that's all you need to tell me?”
I just wanted him to leave. I had never met a mafia boss who cared so much for a woman as he did. Guys like him were not supposed to be so nice. They were monsters. As I passed him to leave the room, I missed a step, tripping over his shoe.
“I'm taking you to a doctor.”
Exam rooms always terrified me. I did not like them. They were never welcoming and the ones who tried only ever placed a tiny plant in a window with blinds. Some even had canvas artwork painted by some self-proclaimed artist that always ended up looking like a Thomas Kinkade knock-off. My mind began to wander. Why were their windows in exam rooms? Especially at the gynecologist.
My brain was going stir crazy, waiting for the doctor to come back in after running multiple tests. Giovanni paced the room. His formal shoes clicked on the floor each time he put his foot down. Surprisingly, the rhythm soothed me. I rocked back and forth in my crinkling, paper gown.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Yes, I’m dressed.”
Giovanni stepped over to me, wrapping his fingers around the back of my hand as the doctor entered, holding an iPad.
“Jane, everything looks pretty good, but there are a few concerns.” Doctor Russo adjusted his glasses, peeking up. “Have you been stressed lately?”
