Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

The entire penthouse is silent when I wake up the morning after the wedding. There’s an eerie feeling and sick realization that Arabella is no longer in Chicago.

I could hardly sleep last night knowing that they consummated the marriage. I’d have to call her and see how everything went, although I doubt she’ll give me a straight answer—especially not if Luca is lurking around or monitoring her calls and messages.

My nauseous has been linked to food and smells and with the scent of coffee causing me to gag in the bathroom off the kitchen sick realization hits me.

Antonio went to work this morning and will most likely not return until later tonight unless he has some mission that will keep him until morning. I put on a casual pair of jeans and a pink sweater and then I gather Carmelo and ask him to call for the car because I have some grocery shopping to do today.

On the way there Carmelo doesn’t question why we need to go grocery shopping when Antonio has a personal shopper who will buy everything and anything I need. Either way I would blame it on boredom—me wanting to get out of the house.

I pick up a few meaningless things before approaching the aisle I actually need. I continuously glance at Carmelo and am pleased he’s not paying that much attention to what I’m doing. He occasionally check his phones and sends messages—probably updates to Antonio.

After a few minutes and when my cart is full of random fruits, poultry, pastas and desserts I find the aisle with the pregnancy tests. Carmelo is glued to my side now looking all too aware as he tucks his phone away in his back pocket.

“Why don’t you go find shampoo, I think that’s last on the list,” I urge him to leave.

Carmelo scrunches his thick eyebrows together. “I don’t know what kind of shampoo you get. It’d be easier if I just followed you to the shampoo aisle itself and you pick it out.”

“But then we’d get things done a lot quicker,” I cross my arms.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says as I continue to hold my ground. He glances into the aisle and sighs, “Are you really embarrassed about getting tampons in front of me?”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

My cheeks turn read as I see on the other side of the aisle are pads and tampons. Unfortunately for me, if the test comes out positive I won’t be needing them for a while. I guess that would be fortunate though—the only fortunate thing about pregnancy. No periods.

“Yes, I am,” I lie. “So can you please go find some shampoo.”

Carmelo rolls his eyes and walks away. I let out a breath in relief. I turn toward the pregnancy tests and am suddenly overwhelmed by all the options. Who knew there were so many pregnancy test brands? Does one have more accuracy over the other?

Just to be sure I grab three different brands and head down towards the shampoo where Carmelo is scratching his head staring.

He turns to see me and shrugs, “Told you it’d be better if you just came with me.”

I grabbed my normal brand, threw it in the cart and walked to check-out. The cashier slowly scanned every item and I could see Carmelo was intently watching all the items go into the bag. Surely he would see the triage of pregnancy tests.

 Another distraction is needed.

“Why don’t you wait in the car, I got this,” I offer a kind smile.

“Arielle,” he sighs once more, “there are a ton of bags you’ll need help carrying.”

“No I won’t, I’ll just take the cart to the car and have Steven load the bags.”

“I’m not leaving you alone. Antonio would have my ass if someone got a hold of you outside the store just because I was waiting in the car.”

Defeated, I turn back toward the cashier who was waiting to tell my total. She must’ve bagged the pregnancy tests while Carmelo and I were talking.

Relieved, I take out Antonio’s limitless credit card and pay the near two hundred dollars for my items. Instead of loading the cart, Carmelo grabs all of the plastic bags effortlessly and begins to exit the store with me at his side.

Steve had pulled the car around and opened the back door for me crawl in while Carmelo loaded the trunk. I begin to play with the hem of my sweater nervously as I think of the next few moments and what is to come. The test will tell me one of two things—I’m either pregnant or not.

If I’m pregnant that means I’ll have to tell Antonio but who knows how he will respond. He’s still not allowing himself to get too close to me because loving someone is a weakness. How is a baby going to make him react? Having a child is one of the most weak and vulnerable things you could ever have. Once Antonio has a child all of his enemies will be after the child—our child.

God, I can’t have a baby. I don’t want to have to worry and stress over my child’s life and all the potential threat against him. Imagine it being kidnapped, tortured, killed.

I suddenly feel very sick and I urge for Steve to pull over so I can vomit, but all I end up doing is dry-heaving as Carmelo loosely holds my hair back keeping as much distance as he can.

Why didn’t Antonio take further precaution that night? I mean it’s all his fault, he should’ve known better. It was my first time, I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t prepared.

“Are you okay?” Carmelo frowns.

I wipe my mouth with my thumb and then fix the wrinkles in my sweater. I clear my throat and nod my head. “I’m fine. It must’ve just been something I ate this morning.”

“I saw,” his voice low and without emotion.

“Saw what?” I raise an eyebrow.

 “The pregnancy tests at checkout.”

“Please don’t tell Antonio,” I clasp my hands together and beg like a pathetic puppy dog. “I may not even be pregnant. There’s no need to worry him. Please.”

Carmelo shifts uncomfortably, I know it’s against his protocol—the protocol that says Carmelo must tell him everything regarding me. I know he’s obliged to tell Antonio something like this, but I have to be the one to tell him when the time is right.

“Fine. You better tell him, if you don’t within the week, I will tell him.”

“I don’t even know if I’m pregnant. If it says negative, I won’t utter a single word to him.”

Carmelo shakes his head. “No, you still had a scare. There’s a reason your taking this test and it’s because you were careless.”

“Me?” I raise my voice. “How was I careless?”

 “You should be on birth control.”

“Well I’m not and it is none of your business! So stay out of it!” I turn sharply on my heel and swing open the back door and slam it shut when I get inside.

The rest of the car ride is silent, but occasionally I see Carmelo peaking a glance behind him to look at me. It’s obnoxious having him as a bodyguard constantly watching and putting his big nose in my business.

Still, my mind wanders to the pregnancy tests in the back seat and what they will say. The minute I get home I already plan on grabbing them and rushing to the bathroom to test myself. I can’t bear to think of the results right now—specifically the positive result.

I’m not ready to be a mother.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse is longer than usual and I shift on both feet and murmur for the elevator to come on. When the doors open my heart leaps inside my chest, Antonio is sitting in the living on the couch with a drink in his hand and the remote in the other.

“You’re back,” Antonio stands. I can tell he is fighting back a wince from the chest injury he sustained. “Let me help with the bags,” he offers.

Why is he being so kind?

“It’s okay, I got it.” I frantically look at the white, almost-see-through bags to see if I can find which one has the tests in it. Antonio takes my bags from me before I can find it and when my husband turns his back toward me to set the bags down elsewhere, Carmelo discreetly hands me one of the bags he had in his hands.

“Thank you,” I whisper before running upstairs.

I lock myself in the bathroom and place all three tests on the sink. I grab the first box and tear it open, then the second, then the third. I sit on the toilet and utilize my bladder by only peeing a little bit so I could use each stick. I set them all on the counter next to each other and read the instructions. They all say to wait around five minutes.

The longest five minutes of my life.

By minute four someone is pounding on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Antonio’s baritone voice calls to me.

“Yeah, I’ll be just a minute.”

The door jiggles. “Why is the door locked?”

“Just a minute, Antonio!” I say panicked.

“What’s going on?” He pounds on the door and shouts.

“Please! I just need a little privacy is all! I’m almost finished!” I plead desperately.

The pounding stops. “When you’re done. I’d like to talk to you.”

I don’t like the tone of his voice. Did Carmelo tell him something?

My phone’s timer goes off and I’m now petrified to look at the results. In the car I anticipated this moment and rushed to know the answer, but now I don’t want anything to do with it. I don’t want this to be happening right now. I don’t want to be thrust into motherhood.

But it looks like I have no choice.

     Pregnant.

     Pregnant.

     Pregnant.

 All three tests positive.

Could it be a mistake? Could it be one of those false pregnancies you hear about?

The tests rarely lie. The accuracy of these things is in the ninety-something percentile.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Now I have to tell Antonio and just when we were almost becoming okay. Now he’s going to hate me.

What if he demands I have an abortion?

I think for a moment. No, I couldn’t possibly do that to myself or this unborn child. I mean, God, I must be three months along if the baby was conceived on our wedding night.

I put the tests in a plastic bag and stash them under the sink. Putting them in the trash would just be asking for Antonio to find out. I’m startled to see Antonio standing right outside the bathroom door waiting for me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He seems suspicious of me. “You’ve has this bug for about a month now.”

“Yes,” I say curtly. “Can’t I have a little privacy? My stomach was bothering me. Is that a crime?”

Antonio frowns. “No. Listen, I want to talk.”

“About?” My heart rate picks up.

“About us,” he scratches at the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed to be having this conversation. I’ve never seen him so awkward. “I know we didn’t start off well, but I don’t see why we can’t… step in the right direction.”

His eyes bore into mine and in an instant his lips brush against my own and he pulls my body flush against him. He deepens our kiss and presses my back against the bathroom door behind me. I open my mouth and let him. I moan out in pleasure, I’ve missed the intimacy after three months of nothing but coldness. His entire body warms mine and heat blooms in my core.

Antonio is possessive with his touch, claiming me for his own with every sweep of his tongue. His hips grind against mine and I gasp when I feel the bulge that is straining against his now tight jeans.

“I’ve missed this,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away from our kiss to pull my sweater over my head leaving me bare in my bra. We had come close to imitating in intercourse the morning after he’d been shot and we spent the day in bed, but this type of raw and hurried passion—it’s the same energy we had on our honeymoon.

And I agree, I missed this too.

I become bashful, hiding my body with my arms. I turn away from him and mutter, “Did you… did you cheat on me?” Some days he wouldn’t be at work and wouldn’t tell me where he went. I could only assume he went to the strip club to take care of his needs.

Antonio blinks and says, “No. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“It’s been almost three months…”

Antonio chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t need another woman to give me pleasure. I have my wife you know!”

“Oh,” a blush creeps on my face.

Antonio actually smiles and resumes kissing me, but this time with a strange tenderness from before as if to tell me he wouldn’t cheat because he, in some odd way, actually cares about me. That even though he was cruel for the first two months of our marriage. He still saw me as more than a business deal rather than his wife that is also a confidant—a companion.

He lifts me up and instinctively I wrap my legs around his hips. He leads us over to the bed and places me down on my back. My head hits the various throw pillows and some pool off the bed and onto the ground. Antonio climbs over me with a predatory gaze and lust filled in his eyes. His tongue runs over his bottom lip as his hands snake around to my back to unclasp my bra.

His mouth is the first to capture as his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub and sends shocks of pleasure right down to the place where I’m now soaking for him.

I realize then that maybe I should tell him, but it would surely ruin this moment that I’ve been craving for far too long. I know I owe it him and lied to him about what I was doing in the bathroom, and truth be told I’m still petrified to tell him the news. It’s still surreal in my head. I still can’t register that growing inside of me is a baby.

I fight the urge to rub my belly. I had noticed I gained a couple pounds, but nothing Antonio would find noticeable. And if he did, he probably would think I’m eating well—despite throwing up constantly. His kisses trail down and lips hover over my stomach causing butterflies. I let out a soft moan and feel his hands begin to play with the button and zipper of my jeans. I feel the denim slide down my legs leaving me only in my white cotton underwear.

Antonio crawls back up and kisses my neck taking his time gently sucking at the skin as his hands knead my breasts only making me readier for him. His hands disappear  and I whimper for him to resume his ministrations until I open my eyes to see him pulling away his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and zipping down his zipper. I help him pull his pants and boxers down until he frees himself and he, in one swift motion, yanks down my underwear and leaves it around one of my ankles.

He’s impatient as he spreads my legs so he can rest between them. He gives me two careful kisses on each cheek before propping himself up on his elbows and then lining his member at my entrance. I clench my teeth in anticipation, God, it’s been so long I hardly remember what it feels like.

It’s like a branding as he slides home. Home, because that’s what this feels like. Like coming home. Antonio is my home and even though these past three months have been horrible with his constant ignoring, I couldn’t help myself from seeing him as my haven. Since my mother has been avoiding me whether on purpose or not, I have no idea and Angelo has been busy. Arabella doesn’t live here anymore as she is in New York with Luca. I’ve had no one. Antonio is my only familiar in this city. My home.

I feel his hot breath caress my skin as we both are heavy breathing and indulging in our pleasure. My hands roam under his shirt to touch his bare back and muscles below. His hands go under my butt angling me up and closer to him. He holds me close, but it doesn’t seem close enough. Our foreheads touch and his pace quickens. It’s faster than last time, but it doesn’t seem to hurt, in fact I feel pleasantly full as if I’ve been missing him all along.

Our bodies move like a symphony in perfect rhythm. Both of us dancing and waiting for the finale, sweat sheens both of us and our hearts beat as one. My mind is focused on one thing—us—as if nothing more exists in the universe. As if the last three months never existed and this moment is the only moment that will ever matter. As if the anxiety from news of just a while ago is cured because it feels as though nothing could ever go wrong in a moment as perfect as this.

His fingers are those of a pianist playing every note just right to make the most beautiful of songs. My body is his instrument and he tunes me until I am singing and soon, he sings with me.

We lay next to each other for a long while catching our breaths. Both of us more than sated and almost relieved. We don’t make any move to cuddle even though I desperately seek comfort after our little escapade. I fear ruining the moment and having him lash out at me like last time at our honeymoon.

My hands nonchalantly rest on my stomach and I refrain from rubbing them in circles. I debate on telling him or not, again, I fear ruining this moment. It could wait. I’m still not showing to the point of it being obvious, and besides he has a lot to worry about himself with the Bratva, his shortage of men…

I turn on my side facing him. I admire his strong jawline and the way his hair curls under his ear. From this angle I can see his thick dark lashes and just how long they are. He looks content and lost all in one. He’s staring up at the ceiling peacefully, but something tells me his mind is racing and wandering toward unwanted thoughts.

I trail my finger over the scar that now takes up a good three or four inches on his abdomen. Scars from the bullet as well as from the stitches I gave him. “It healed nicely,” I whisper and kiss the skin.

“It did,” his voice deepens as he watches me hovering so close to his nether regions. Although we just had a round, he seems ready for more.

Which is good for me, because although I found release, it only heightened my need for me. My body is still aroused and hot with need. Nearly three months we’ve missed this with each other and now our bodies are trying to make up for lost time and get their fill after such deprivation.

“Antonio,” I whisper shyly. “Do you think…” I shake my head and back out like a coward.

He sits up and grabs me by my elbows. He gently tugs my body in his direction trying to get me to look at him. “What? Tell me.”

“Do you think… do you think you could ever love me?”

He stares at me for a long time. His dark eyes boring into my blue ones. His grip hasn’t moved off of me, but I notice his body is considerably tighter with tension. “I… I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

“Oh,” I blink back a tear. I use the heel of my hand to quickly wipe it away but it’s no use, he saw it fall.

 “Ary…” he sighs.

“No, no it’s okay. I get it. In the Famiglia love is weakness and if the Bratva knows you love me then they will kill me to get to you.” Just like they did with Antonio’s mother.

My stomach churns, not because of morning sickness, but because I think I love Antonio and bringing his child into the world, I want his love more than anything.

I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage.

If he can’t love me… then who is to say he can love this child. I don’t want our son or daughter to think their father doesn’t like them. I don’t want them to feel like how I did in my childhood.