"I don't want you to take care of me! I never wanted that."
"Then what do you want, Angel? Tell me, and I'll give it to you. I swear!" I almost melted at the desperation in his voice, almost caved into the way he curled into me like the possibility of losing me brought him to his knees.
"I've never chosen you," I whispered, finally feeling like I had the words to explain the conundrum that tore me in two. "Every decision, every step to be together or not be together, you've made it. You decided we were going on a date in high school, and that was that. Then you dumped me, and I had no say in that either. When you claimed me again, you didn't care that I told you I hated you. You didn't give a shit that I was terrified of you and wanted to run for the hills. You pushed and pushed and moved me into your house against my will. And I forgave it," I whispered. "I tolerated it. But now, you took away my right to choose this baby. I'll never have that moment where the man I love tells me he wants to have a baby. I'll never get to make love to you and hope that that was the moment we made a child together. So now what do I have? I'm just a woman living a life that she didn't choose, Matteo! I want to choose you. That's what I want."
He pressed his forehead to mine gently, his face scrunching up in pain. "So I can't pick you up and drag you home?" I chuckled at his attempt at what I assumed was a joke, but I never could tell with Matteo.
"No," I sighed back, letting him press his lips to mine softly. I resisted the urge to lean into him. It conflicted me enough for both of us, the last thing he needed was me showing him just how desperate I was for him.
He nodded, letting his hands touch my belly. "I'll be back to check on you in a couple of days. Call me if you need me for anything." Then with a deep sigh, he turned and strode out of my house. Scar replaced him within minutes.
He went back to eating his eggs even though they were cold. "You okay?" he asked.
"You want fresh eggs?" I asked him, ignoring the million-dollar question that I felt a little closer to answering.
"Nah. These are fine." I shook my head and turned to scrub my pans.
???
That cleaning continued. I'd made the switch to all-natural cleaners we picked up at the store when we'd fled Matteo's house. Just enough supplies for us to survive.
And for me to clean relentlessly, if we were being honest. I didn't have enough cookware to go crazy, had no baking dishes to speak of. If I'd thought Matteo wouldn't have had a coronary at the prospect of me bringing more belongings to the home, he didn't want me in, I might have asked for some. But that was not a battle I thought worth fighting.
My thoughts plagued me as I scrubbed, wondering if I would ever really have a choice where Matteo was concerned. Obviously, the choice with the baby was gone. It was coming whether I was ready for it or not.
But if I decided that I didn't want to marry Matteo? Didn't want to raise our child together?
I knew he'd take away my choice again. He made it very clear that he would do whatever it took to have me as his in every sense of the word.
Did it really count as having a choice, if I'd lose the opportunity to choose if I made the wrong decision?
I didn't think so, and that thought plagued me.
Could I raise a child with a mobster? Could I bring up a child in a world as dangerous as the one Matteo inhabited, where I couldn't leave the estate without a bodyguard for safety?
It seemed impossible. It wasn't the life I wanted for my baby, and as much as I might love Matteo, my child's life had to be the most important consideration.
But the only way for the baby to be safe from Matteo's enemies would be to leave Chicago, sever all ties with Matteo permanently. No one could ever know he had a child.
And that made my heart hurt.
Car doors slamming outside made Scar's head snap to attention, and he instantly went alert. "Call Matteo," he ordered as more cars slammed. I grabbed my cell, dialing Matteo quickly as Scar pulled his gun from his holster. My fingers shook, but I dialed him as quickly as possible. "Get down, Ivory." Scar whispered, going to the window to peek outside.
"Angel?" Matteo said over the line.
"Matteo, there are people here—" I started, but Scar snatched the phone.
"Adrian and about a dozen men are outside. Ivory is going out the back," he snapped, handing the phone back to me. "Go, Ivory. Keep your head down but fucking run." Matteo's voice shouted in the phone, but I stared up at Scar in horror.
"I won't leave you!" I protested.
"Yes, you will," he announced, touching a hand to my stomach delicately. "Go, Ivory,” he whispered, shoving me toward the back hall that led to the back of my house. I scurried, keeping my head down so no one would see me through the windows. The phone in my hand echoed with the furious sound of Matteo's voice calling for me, and I brought it up to my ear.
"Teo," I whispered as the first tear fell in my terror.
"Fuck, Cara mia. We're on our way. Just get out of there."
"I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I whispered as I hit the back door.