◽I ALREADY DID◽
◽CARMELLO'S POV◽
"Go and meet her," I glared at Lola, who still wouldn’t leave.
“No, the fuck, why should I?“ she raised an eyebrow, daring me to challenge her.
"Aleesia," I muttered. “Non voglio.“ {I don't want to}
Her eyes narrowed into slits, and I got the message loud and clear.
I didn’t want to make her angry. Lola was scary when pissed.
I stopped in front of the door to Marian’s room. Martini stood nearby, smiling like he knew I’d walked right into Lola’s trap.
I sent him a glare while I waited for Lola to come out.
She finally did, pulling me aside, and of course, Martini joined us.
"She’s pregnant."
What?
"What?" Martini echoed my shock. Lola stared directly at me, and Martini, who had only just looked surprised, quickly masked it.
"You didn’t use protection?" he asked, like I’d done the dumbest thing in existence.
"I was drunk. I don’t even remember what happened," I told him, even though he looked disappointed.
"Drunk?" Lola cut in, her tone sharp. "You slept with her?"
How was I supposed to explain this without making her hate me?
"Ero molto ubriaco. Anche lei aveva bevuto. È successo. Mi sono sentito terribile per questo. Non sapevo che sarebbe finita così.“ {I was very drunk. She drank too. It happened. I felt horrible about it. I didn’t know it would come to this}
I was rattled. Surrogacy was one thing, this was something else entirely.
"I tried to make up for it, took her to a restaurant, let her do her exam," I added weakly. I knew how pathetic I sounded. Might as well shut up and let them shake their heads at me.
"Call Larino," Lola snapped.
Martini wore the same disappointed expression. I narrowed my eyes at him. Why was he helping her roast me?
“Carmello,” Lola warned. “Go and meet her.”
I was already going.
I opened the door without knocking, mostly out of spite.
Marian sat at the edge of the bed, looking nervous.
"How are you feeling now?" I asked.
She looked at me like I’d grown two heads, then quickly recovered. "I’m fine. Just a little queasy," she said half-heartedly, avoiding eye contact.
God, I felt awful. What had I done to this poor girl?
Ramirez came in to check on her. I sat quietly, full of shame.
After the checkup, Ramirez confirmed what we already knew, she was pregnant.
"Are you feeling okay?" I asked again, carefully, like that was going to fix anything.
Marian rolled her eyes. "Do I look okay?" she snapped. "I’m eighteen. I’m pregnant. This is my baby. I never imagined it would come to this. This isn’t the surrogacy I signed up for. It just feels... wrong."
She was sweating, overwhelmed. The last thing she wanted was to bring a child into a world where she didn’t even know where she stood.
"I can’t knowingly do this."
I stayed quiet as she poured her heart out.
"I’m sorry for everything," I said softly, reaching out to hold her hand.
"I can have an abortion. We can still do the IVF. It just won’t be my baby."
"No," I said firmly. "You can’t abort the baby."
It was dangerous. And honestly, I couldn’t let her go through that.
She looked at me, panic rising in her eyes. "You’ll probably kill me if I’m of no use to you," she whispered. "I can’t bring a child into this world without a mother." She sniffed. “I don’t want to have a baby with you.”
"I’m not going to kill you, Marian," I said gently, ignoring that last part. Like we could undo any of this now?.
"Why would I? You’ve been a source of amusement for me."
"A clown," she muttered bitterly. "Is that all I am to you?"
Yeah, she was annoying, spontaneous, kind of like a pissed-off kitten.
"You’re not dying. And neither is the baby." And I meant that.
Dorian and my father, they weren't going to be happy about this. He’d met her. He knew she was Mathilda’s sister. That alone made her a problem. But I’d make sure they were both safe.
"For now, we’ll make some changes," I said, standing. "You’ll sleep upstairs. You need to be comfortable."
"But I am comfortable here," she protested.
Of course she did.
"You’re carrying my baby, Marian. Beside me is the safest place for you, si?" {yes?}
"Si," {yes} she replied, mocking my tone and rolling her eyes.
She looked like a grumpy cat when she did that.
…
She wasn’t eager about it, and she made sure I knew it.
"Do I really have to?" she asked as BJ carried in the last rack of her tops.
I hadn’t even realized she owned that many clothes. I just told Martini to get her whatever she needed every month.
"You’re here to protect me. What could possibly happen that hasn’t already?" she muttered, eyeing BJ, who still hadn’t gotten over her earlier jokes about her parents’ deaths.
"He hasn’t even been around for two days and now he’s here to watch me move," she added, like I wasn’t right there.
"Boss said not to let you overexert yourself," BJ reminded her.
"Screw your boss," she muttered.
BJ looked at me. I shrugged. I mean. She can have that triumph.
Everything she could need was upstairs, living room, kitchen, library. No reason to leave, no reason to go back down there.
"This feels like confinement 2.0," she groaned. "Who am I supposed to complain to?"
She looked at me before strolling into my room like she owned it. I wanted to put her in the guest room, but Lola wouldn’t stop giving me that disappointed look. So now, she was in my room.
“It’s way more comfortable than your old room,” I said, clearing my throat.
"Of course you think so," she muttered.
I smiled. I’d tolerate her. I owed her that.
She looked around like she’d never been in here before, eyes landing on the figurine.
She had this weird fascination with it, and I hated it.
"Don’t touch it," I warned as she lifted her hand.
She recoiled immediately. "I can’t even touch anything?" she groaned. "Well, fuck me."
"I already did."
She turned and glared at me.
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