Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

“What do you want to talk about?”

Three sets of eyes darted to my belly, and my hand automatically—protectively—pressed to the spot.

“If you keep this child,” Dante began.

“I will keep the child.”

Dad looked away and then at the picture frame on his desk. A photo of our family taken shortly before I’d been kidnapped.

“You will have to keep it hidden,” Dad said.

I blinked at them. “What?”

“Once you start showing, we’ll have to keep you out of the public eye, Serafina,” Dante said, his voice resolute. “I doubt Remo Falcone has the slightest interest in his offspring, but he might use it against us. The Outfit needs to be strong. This child might cause tension within the Outfit, and we can’t have that at the current time.”

“Or we could arrange a quick marriage with someone who agrees to a fake marriage and pretend it’s his child,” Dad suggested gently.

I stared between them. Samuel looked at the floor, his brows snapped together.

“I’m not going to marry anyone, and I’m not going to lie about the baby’s father. People wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

Now I was the woman pregnant with Remo’s bastard child. Soon my protruding belly would carry the guilt and shame of the Outfit.

“Eventually people will realize I have a child. Once it grows older, it’ll be difficult to keep it hidden. And what if he’s a boy? Won’t he be part of the Outfit?”

They exchanged a look.

“You haven’t even given birth yet. It’s still early,” Dante said tersely. I searched their faces, and as I did it was difficult to hold on to my indignation and anger. My kidnapping had left its marks. They were still shaken up. Maybe over time things would get better. I’d give them the time they needed to accept the situation. I owed it to them. I owed them more than I owed Remo.

This baby and I belonged in the Outfit. This was my family, my home.

Still, part of me wondered if I was lying to myself, if it wasn’t better to return to Las Vegas.

But Remo had sent me away. I’d served my purpose. How much did I really know about him? And how could I be sure if everything he’d done hadn’t been part of a show, his masterful manipulation. It had worked, hadn’t it? And how could I even be sure what I was feeling was real? Could feelings like that be born in captivity?

My pregnancy became the pink elephant in the room, an ever growing presence that everyone tried to ignore, and I did my best to make it easy for them. I wore loose-fitting clothes, glad for the cold winter days that allowed for thick sweaters and even thicker coats. I think my family often managed to forget I was even pregnant.

Only when I was alone in my room did I allow myself to admire my bump. It wasn’t big yet. I had even managed to take part in Dante and Val’s Christmas party because in my seventeenth week, if my calculations were accurate, an A-line dress still hid everything it should. If people suspected something, they kept it to themselves. It was a possible shame the Outfit didn’t want to voice aloud.

It was early January when Samuel and Mom accompanied me to my first doctor’s appointment. So far I hadn’t asked for one, but Mom had surprised me a few days ago by asking if we should check on the baby. It was her silent apology, her attempt to accept what was so very difficult for all of them to accept.

The doctor had been working with the Outfit for years. She treated most of the pregnant Outfit women and would keep the secret I carried.

Fear filled me as I stretched out on the examination couch. I wasn’t even sure what exactly scared me. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know I was pregnant. It was unmistakable at this point.

The doctor was on one side of me with the ultrasound while Samuel and Mom stood on the other. I swallowed when I pushed up my sweater, revealing the bump for the first time in front of others.

Samuel’s face became still, and Mom swallowed before she managed an encouraging smile and squeezed my hand.

“This will be cold for a moment,” the doctor warned me.

I nodded distractedly, my eyes fixed on the ultrasound.

The doctor started frowning, moving the ultrasound around on my belly. The thud-thud of a heartbeat filled the room and my own heart sped up, swelling with love and wonder. But the thud-thud was off, as if it was off-beat, two out-of-sync rhythms.

Mom’s eyes widened, but I wasn’t sure why, and fear filled me. I stared at her, then the doctor, then Samuel, but he looked as confused as I felt.

“Oh God,” Mom whispered.

“What? What’s going on?”

Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “Twins.”

The doctor nodded, and my eyes jerked toward Samuel.