Sold to Mr. Giordano

Antonio

Am I capable of love?

 What I feel for Ary, I think is the closest I will ever come to loving someone. The tear that fell from her eye after I said I didn’t know caused a slight pain in my heart and suddenly I feel as though I’m the world’s biggest jackass.

“I love you,” she breathes out unsteadily and my own heart pounds hard in my chest. “I love you and I hate that I love you because you will never feel the same way I do.”

 I grab her wrists when she turns away from me and pull her into a gentle kiss. I pull back to see a twinkle in her eyes as though I’ve just given her hope. “They like to exploit weaknesses, they would do anything to get their hands on you if you they knew—”

“If they knew you loved me?” Lines form in her forehead. “God, Antonio! I mean, I’m not asking you to profess your love for me on the news! I’m asking you to profess it here to me alone! I’m asking you to love me,” she hides her face with her hands.

“It’s not so much about them knowing than it is allowing myself to actually love you and then having you ripped away from me. It would destroy me!”

“And what about our baby!” She shouts.

I jerk my head back and blink a few times. I’m speechless. “What?”

Did she just say what I think she said?

“I mean… what about if we have children one day?” She bites her bottom lip and looks down at her lap.

The nausea, the emotional outburst, the weight gain…. “You’re pregnant?” I grab her chin and make her look me in the eyes.

Her eyes well with tears and she nods her head quickly.

“How long have you known?”

 “I just found out today,” her voice waivers.

The only emotion I feel is pissed. I stand from the bed and slick back my hair with my hands. I rub harshly at my face and try to think of how this is even possible. “You were on the pill, what the fuck happened?” I shout.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Hurt flashes across Ary at my swearing at her. She timidly shakes her head and croaks out, “No. I was never on the pill.”

“That bastard!” I click over one of the wooden end tables holding a lamp.

“You’re scaring me,” she curls herself into a ball on the bed making herself small.

“I talked to your father on our wedding day, he told me he gave you the pill a week before the wedding and told me you knew to take it every morning,” I point at her.

 “No! No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never got a pill. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” I almost laugh. “That sex causes babies? We didn’t have sex with a condom what the hell did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know,” she cries harder. “I didn’t know, I swear! I never got a pill.”

 I pace the room and feel as though my sanity is slipping away. Pregnant. Ary is fucking pregnant with my child at the worst possible time. The Bratva is getting stronger, I’m losing men, and Marco Fucking-Ricci is here trying to start a war with the Outfit by lying to me. Purposely telling me that my wife was on the pill. Sabotaging me—exploiting weakness.

“I don’t want an abortion,” Arielle breaks my thoughts. I harshly turn to look at her. Tears are streaked down her red face and a wave of sadness washes over me.

“You are not getting an abortion,” I growl and she nods in understanding. “I need to have a fucking word with your father.”

 I’m so furious I can’t be near anyone right now. I debate whether it’s smart or not to call Marco right now when I’m so out of my mind angry. Instead of making a foolish, rash decision I call over Rocco to help me probably make an even more foolish, rash decision.

Rocco gets here in record time after telling him it’s an emergency. He bursts through the elevator doors when they open and frantically looks around the room.

“What happened?” His heavy breathing tells me he must’ve been running.

Sitting calmly and collectively on the couch. I down my scotch and set the glass on the coffee table. I take a deep breath before dispelling, “Arielle is pregnant.”

“Shit. Really?” He slowly walks over to the couch and sits next to me. “So… this is bad news? I thought you wanted to have children?”

“Not right now,” I shake my head. “Maybe when I was like forty. That’s not the point though. Marco Ricci told me at my wedding that he gave my bride birth control pills to take.”

“He fucking lied?” Rocco’s fists clench. He’s always hate Marco Ricci just as much as I always have. “That’s an act of war. That dick! So what are we doing? Are we going to New York and killing him?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Killing him is definitely an act of war. Luca and his sociopathic tendencies won’t be good for the Outfit which is already weak from our war with the Bratva.”

“What’s the plan then?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. Honestly, I want to kill him as much as you do. He’s waiting for Ary to get pregnant, if we never announce the news or let him know then we have the upper hand.”

“So we keep the baby a secret?” Rocco clarifies.

“I’d like to keep it a secret until it’s like thirteen years old, but I know rumors spread easily and along with the paparazzi… Ary would have to stay inside for the next,” I do the math, “six months. Then what, the child stays inside for the next thirteen years? He’ll have to go outside for fresh air and school and just fuck, I didn’t want a kid.”

“So we keep both of them hidden as long as possible until we have a plan. Like you said, we have the upper hand. Okay, so we start with telling Arielle and Carmelo to keep their mouths shut about the pregnancy. No telling anyone, not even our relatives.”

 I handle Arielle upstairs while Rocco tells Carmelo who is probably upstairs in his own room. I open the door to the master bedroom to still see her crying on our bed. Her face is smothered in the pillow and hands clutching the blanket seeking comfort.

 With a heavy exhale I walk over to her, sit on the edge of the bed and rub her back. She stills and sucks in a breath and then a wrecking sob. Ary pulls up to look at my face, she wraps her arms around my neck and hold me close. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my lap. My other hand strokes her long golden hair in an attempt to calm her down. After a few long minutes her crying subsided and she lets out a shuddering breath. I pull back to look at her face wiping a piece of hair out of her face. I set her on the bed so she’s laying on her back and my eyes dart to her stomach.

It is a tiny bump, I didn’t think anything of it because I didn’t think it was possible for her to get pregnant while on the pill. Not to mention we only had sex once our entire marriage—aside from the sex we had earlier. I pull up her shirt to get a better look at her rounding stomach and massage my hands over the flesh.

Her skin is soft and I notice faint stretch marks starting to form. When my cousin’s wife was pregnant two years ago, I remember him telling me that his wife put on this certain lotion to help with stretch marks. He helped her rub it on her stomach, but he did it because the massage he would provide would arouse and he’d usually get some action.

Not expecting sex but wanting to calm her down. I grab some lotion from her vanity and begin to lather it on her stomach and occasionally reaching up toward her breasts—which I’m now aware have also grown in size.

“You want someone who is kind-hearted, considerate, funny, smart, sensitive and a family man…” I begin.

“What makes you think that?”

“B. J.,” I state simply. “I studied him carefully when we were watching those few episodes and I’ve come to the conclusion that is why you like him.”

She sits up with a smirk on her face, “Not because he’s extremely handsome?” She raises an eyebrow.

“You stare at the television with a certain look on your face whenever he comes on. A look of longing and a smile as though you’ve known that man your whole life. Even if he was extremely horrible looking your heart would still swell the moment he cracked a joke, or the moment he turned down other women because he is faithful to his wife and children back home, or the moment he looked at his dead patients and felt sorry for them—felt empathy.” She just blinks at me unknowing what to say. “I can’t be that man, Arielle.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Then I guess I should join the army,” she half-heartedly jokes.

I walk over to the mini-fridge and pour myself a glass of Jack Daniels to calm my raging nerves. I’m so furious with Marco Ricci that I can’t even see straight. Already I am formulating a plan in my head that won’t cost the Outfit but will also leave Marco without his life. At this moment war seems inevitable as I skim all the options silently to myself.

 Marco is strong in New York, he hasn’t lost a shit ton of soldiers I have. I have his son and daughter in the Outfit with me, but the only child Marco cares about is Luca. In New York, Arielle’s mother and Arabella are there, Marco would try to use them as leverage knowing well that Arielle would do anything to keep them safe. I still have the Bratva to worry about and having New York and the Russian bastards against the Outfit would be suicide.

An accident, I could make it look like an accident that Marco was killed. Luca would take over like it’s always been planned. That could work if I got close enough. Like me, I never go anywhere without my men. He would probably be armed and with a trusted soldier or two. It would more likely be in his territory which gives me a disadvantage.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I hate more than anything being made a fool.

I watch Arielle in her stunning wedding dress float around the room greeting guests and also looking for someone. She’s smiling, but it’s all a rouse. I can tell she’s scared, probably scared of what is to come later tonight.

Arielle’s father, Marco, approaches me and slaps his hand on my back in congratulations. “Welcome to the family, son-in-law,” he flashes his usual devious smile.

“Thank you,” I say curtly while my eyes are still glued on my new wife.

“I trust Arielle will be an obedient wife tonight. My wife has told her what is expected of her and last week I had a gynecologist start her on birth control.”

I sigh in relief. I don’t want children, maybe not ever. “Good.” I nod.

Having children is one of the most vulnerable things, unless you could not show an ounce of love to them then you are protected for what will possibly come. There are too many enemies that would love to get their hands on a Capo’s child. Once they have possession the Capo becomes a puppet on a string.

Do this or we will kill your son.

I would know, I was only six when the Bratva took me. Fortunately for me my father found a way to kill the bastards before they could lay a hand on me—and I knew they had much planned.

To bring a child into this world would be cruel, to give them the life I have. I would rather my line die then have children.

If I ever did have children, I would want it to be when I’m old and nearing death that way I don’t have to live watching my child become what I am. So I don’t have to live in fear because having a child is a weakness.

As much as a weakness as loving your wife.

My empty glass forces me out of my flashback as I pour my second drink and let the alcohol dull my emotions even further.

I can’t help but let anxiety and anger course destructively throughout my body like an indestructible bomb waiting to go off and destroy everything in my path.

“If you wanted,” a small voice creeps up from behind my chair. “We could always get rid of it.”

I turn around to catch the tears brimming in her eyes. I can tell straight away that she doesn’t mean a single word of what is coming out of her mouth.

“No.” Even if I wanted this problem taken care of. The Famiglia is catholic and we don’t do abortions. “Arielle don’t worry yourself about this. I just need time to think.”

She nervously plays with her fingers, pitching and itching at the skin. “Okay,” she says quietly and sniffles.

The sounds are like a kick to my chest and it suddenly feels as though someone has reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I stand in front of her and peer down as she peers up at me through her long eyelashes.

 I brush away a tear. “I mean it,” I say as gently as I can. “We’re having a baby and we have six months to figure things out.” She bites her bottom lip and nods. “Good. Now get some rest.” I notice the dark bags under her eyes. “I have some business to attend but I’ll be back tonight.”

“Antonio,” she calls out before I exit the door. I look over my shoulder. “I-I am scared.” I drop my hand from the doorknob and walk back to her. “I’m scared because I don’t know anything about pregnancy and Arabella isn’t here to comfort me and my mother won’t answer the phone.”

I didn’t tell her she had me because I know she means she doesn’t have anyone who is female to talk to. I’d have to see if I could get one of Arielle’s friends or close female relatives to come to Chicago. I’ll put it on my list of many things to do.

I wrap my arms around her. “I talked to Angelo at the wedding and he said your father told him your mother was on a vacation in Europe and to not bother her. She hasn’t been ignoring you. I’m sure she’ll be home soon.” I rub her back in soothing circles. “There’s no reason to be scared. You are married to me and I am bound to keep you protected so long as I live and I will honor that. You are safe. No one will touch you or hurt that child.”

Her shoulders relax and a relieved exhale escapes her lips. With the nod of her head and one last squeeze of her arms around my waist, she pulls back and slips into bed wrapping herself in the comforter.