The nausea got worse because the guilt started to crush me.

I couldn’t believe I was going to do this.

Cato didn’t deserve this.

I threw up every morning for three days because the dread was killing me. I had to choose between my father and Cato, and the choice seemed obvious. But that didn’t make me feel better about my decision.

It only made me feel worse.

I’d just finished making dinner in the kitchen when the front door opened. Now I knew it wasn’t Damien, so the only person who could barge into my house was Cato. His heavy footfalls were unmistakable.

“I’m in the kitchen.” I turned off the stove and put the meal on two plates.

He rounded the corner and came toward me, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His suits looked flawless on him, but the thin cotton of his shirt was much better. Showed off his chiseled forearms. When he spotted me, he stilled, his head slightly cocked and his eyes narrowed. It was the same intense look he always gave me. It just seemed a little deeper than usual.

The stare almost made me uncomfortable because he resembled a predator so much. I felt like a cornered gazelle, and he was the leopard about to rip me to pieces. He didn’t greet me with a kiss or a look full of arousal. He just stared me down like a statue, like he wasn’t truly real.

I tried to defuse the tension. “Are you hungry?” I held up the two plates.

He kept his eyes locked to mine. No answer.

“Alright…” I walked past him and set the plates on the dining table. “Well, if you want something, it’s there.” I moved behind him and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. His cold behavior was unusual, but I didn’t want to ask him about it. Once I opened that can of worms, I didn’t know what would come out.

I poured wine into his glass and added water to mine.

He joined me a moment later, his eyes focused on mine as he placed the food in his mouth.

“Long day?”

“You could say that.”

I kept eating like everything was normal, but deep inside my chest, there was a storm of emotions. The guilt ate me alive and chased away my appetite. Then it made me throw up the food I managed to get down in the first place.

He drank his wine then kept eating. “No gun today?”

“I assumed it was you.”

“You didn’t assume that before. What changed?”

I shrugged. “I guess I just got used to it.”

He chewed slowly, his blue eyes locked on to mine like targets.

Was he always this intense? Or was it just a warm evening? I grabbed my water and took a drink.

“No wine?”

“Trying to cut back. My stomach has been upset lately.”

“Stressed?” He drank his wine again.

“No. I’m not sure.”

“It’s natural for the body to shut down under stressful situations.”

I was in the most stressful situation of my life. “Decorating a three-story mansion isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“Among other things…”

I didn’t even finish half my meal because my stomach couldn’t handle it. The cramping got worse the second he walked into the house.

“Everything alright, Siena?” He ate every single bite on his plate without looking at his utensils.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Was I that flustered?

“You said your stomach hurt. You’re quiet. You aren’t pointing a gun at me. Not exactly yourself this evening.”

Neither was he. “My mother’s anniversary is in a few days…” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Now the plan was set into motion. It was time to commit to it. “The anniversary of her death. It’s been five years.”

He rested both elbows on the table as he stared at me, his hands coming together in front of him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anniversaries are hard.”

“Birthdays too. But those make me remember her when she was alive. The anniversaries just make me think of the day she was gone.”

He massaged his knuckles slightly as he stared at me. Throughout the entire meal, he’d only blinked a handful of times. “It’s rough.”

“She’s at the cemetery outside of Florence. I was going to go visit her.” I waited for him to offer to accompany me. That would make it less obvious than me asking him outright. “Bring her some flowers or something.”

“That sounds nice.”

Maybe he wouldn’t offer to go with me. “If you aren’t busy, I would really like it if you came with me. Going alone is always hard…”

His eyes narrowed instantly, like the question meant something more to him than it should. He pulled his arms off the table and sat back against the chair, his wide shoulders as expansive as a billboard. “You want me to go with you?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” If I didn’t get him alone, then the plan would never work. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for not saving my father, not when I tried. So if Cato didn’t cooperate, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He would make the decision for me.

“No.” He leaned forward over the table, his brilliant blue eyes settling on mine. “I would love to.”

My heart immediately broke in two. I hated myself more than I ever had. I hated Damien for putting me in this position. I hated that Cato was so strict I couldn’t just ask for his help instead. No matter what decision I made, it was a bad one. “Thank…” I cleared my throat to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it was no use. I felt like dirt—felt lower than dirt.

He reached for my hand on the table and held it. “Baby.”

Oh god. His hand was so warm as it enveloped mine. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, treasuring the way his affection felt, but also battling the guilt at the same time. I didn’t know what he would say next, but I suspected my heart was about to melt into a huge puddle.

“Everything you said about me was right. I’m unfulfilled. I’m empty. I have everything, but I had nothing at all…until you. I live in a world where women only want me for sex or money. Then I met you and all of that changed. With you, I don’t have to look over my shoulder. With you, I don’t have to wonder what your motives are.” He held my gaze as his thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Because I trust you.”

Cato didn’t seem interested in missionary anymore. All he wanted was to fuck me from behind, pressing my face into the sheets as he slammed into me. They were always hard screws, contradictions to the gentle words he said to me.

He fucked me like he hated me.

I liked it, but I also missed the old way.

He slept over then left the following morning, still quiet and brooding. Despite the sweet things he said at dinner, his mood still seemed strange. He wasn’t quite himself, staring at me with a slight look of concentrated anger.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

The night before we were supposed to visit the cemetery, Damien called me. “So, everything still ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“What time will you arrive?”

“Two.” It was the middle of the day when everyone was at work. It was quiet out in the countryside, and hopefully, no one would be there visiting loved ones. I wanted this to be clean and easy. Even though my stomach hadn’t been either of those things.

“We’ll be waiting past the gates. I’ll have all my men with me—so don’t pull anything.”

“What could I possibly pull?” I was bringing the most wanted man right to them. “My father better be there, Damien.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a man of my word. Just make sure he comes alone. If he doesn’t, I’ll shoot your father in the stomach and watch him slowly bleed out and die.”

That was an image I didn’t want to picture. “Fuck off, Damien.” I hung up and tossed my phone aside before I sat on the couch. Just like earlier that morning, the nausea got to me. It was so common that I wondered if there was something serious going on with me. Guilt could do strange things to people, but to make me so physically ill? That didn’t seem likely.

I hardly slept that night because all I could think about was the following day. I stared out the window and watched the sun slowly pierce the curtains and blanket the room with light. The entire night had passed—and I’d hardly closed my eyes.

I got ready for the day and did my best to cover the bags under my eyes. I looked paler than usual, like all the blood had drained from my face and neck and gave me a vampire-like appearance. I wore a black dress with white pearls around my neck, a necklace my mother had given me.

The pain I would normally feel over losing my mother was absent because I felt so much other pain. Cato was good to me, and I was about to throw him under the bus. He told me I was one of the few people in this world he could trust…and I was about to stab him in the back.

But also save my father.

I was downstairs when Cato walked in the door.

This time, I kept it unlocked so he didn’t have to pick the mechanism in the door.

“That was quicker than usual.” He was in black jeans and a black shirt. It was way too hot for a black suit or a blazer, so his casual attire was appropriate. If the heat didn’t get you, the humidity would.

“Would you prefer I lock it?”

“I like to time myself. A challenge.” He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks…” I avoided the sincerity in his eyes because it felt wrong to enjoy it. I grabbed the bouquet of flowers I’d gathered from my garden and carried them outside.

Cato followed behind me, his arm circling my waist. “My driver can take us.”

“Ugh, I would rather drive, if that’s okay. I don’t want to visit my mother with strangers in the front seat.”

Cato didn’t put up an argument as he led me to the old car in the dirt driveway. It was almost eight years old and small. Even in the front seat, Cato’s legs would have a hard time fitting. He got into the passenger seat without complaint.

I started the car. “Your fifty men aren’t going to follow us, right?”

He looked out the window. “They always accompany me.”

“I know, but I’m not sure if that’s appropriate. We’re going to a cemetery…” Hearing myself talk just made me hate myself more. Was it as obvious to him as it was to me?

Cato didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Alright.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and made the call. “Wait for me here. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” He returned the phone to his pocket and stared at my house. “Done.”

I didn’t expect that to be so easy. I expected a further argument, at least a few questions.

But Cato trusted me implicitly.

After a short drive, we were about two miles from the cemetery. The radio was off, and we sat in comfortable silence while my flowers lay in the back seat. Both of my hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, and the air didn’t seem cool enough to combat the sweat that formed on the back of my neck.

Cato was quiet, looking out the window without making conversation. His knees were apart, and his hands rested on his thighs. My car was far too small for a man his size, but he never insulted my piece-of-shit ride.

My pulse was so powerful in my neck, I could actually hear it.

I wondered if he could hear it too.

The closer I got to the gates, the worse I felt. My gut told me this was wrong—and my heart was in agreement. I wanted to save my father, but I didn’t want someone else to take his place.

Especially Cato.

Cato had been good to me, even when he behaved like an asshole. He respected me, treated me well, and he had a good heart. Sometimes his true selflessness was lost in his work, but I knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. He took care of his mother when other men would be too greedy to share their wealth. He would take a bullet for his brother. And sometimes I wondered if he would take a bullet for me.

I knew he didn’t love me. But he cared about me.

And I cared about him.

I’m sorry, Father. I slowed the car down until it came to a stop in the middle of the street. There were fields around us and homes in the distance. The sky was too beautiful for a tragedy to happen today. Both of my hands were still on the wheel as the self-loathing hit me. I hated myself for turning my back on my father, but it was his fault he was there. I’d told him to walk away from the business—but he didn’t listen.

“What is it?” His voice was particularly cold, a direct contrast to the summer heat.

I turned the wheel and turned the car around. “Cato, there’s something I need to tell you.”

From the left came a squadron of black cars, along with a tank in the front. An actual tank. They turned the corner in the road, hidden from my view just a moment ago when I drove in the opposite direction. “Oh my god.” I slammed on the brakes, and my eyes went to the rearview mirror. A brigade exited the cemetery and came this way, a string of equally armored cars.

We were in the middle of a war.

Cato turned to me, giving me a look so cold there were shards of ice in his gaze. His jaw was clenched with the same tightness as his fists, and he looked so livid, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t decide how he wanted to kill me—if he wanted to strangle me or shoot me. “You aren’t as clever as you think you are.” He stepped out of the car.

The pulse in my neck exploded into a raging panic. My chest couldn’t keep up with my need for air, and the adrenaline was so strong, I thought I might pass out then and there. Cato knew about this the entire time. I thought I’d played him—but he played me.

He opened my door and unclicked my safety belt. “Out.”

“Cato—”

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the car.

I screamed as the hair was yanked from my scalp and I was pulled from the car like an animal. My body hit the hot asphalt, and my knees scraped against the rough surface.

He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me to my feet before he guided me past the militia and to his private car. The back door was already open, and he pushed me inside, making me fall across the leather seats as he slammed the door behind me.

“Shit.”

When he opened the door on the other side, that’s when the gunshots went off.

The war had begun.

The second he got in, the car took off in the opposite direction, taking us away from the battle that raged where we’d sat just moments ago.

As if nothing had happened at all, Cato looked out the window. He didn’t scream or yell. He didn’t pound his fist into my face. He was unnaturally still and quiet, and that made him far more terrifying.

“Cato, it’s not how it looks—”

With lightning speed, he struck me across the face and made my head smack into the window. “Be silent, bitch.” His arctic gaze burned into mine, and now he was the asshole I’d met a month ago—only worse. Now he was a monster, a demon. He was the Cato Marino everyone warned me about.

“Please listen to me.”

He moved to hit me again.

I blocked his hit and pushed back. “I changed my mind. I turned around. I couldn’t go through with it.”

He got his fingers around my neck and squeezed me so hard I couldn’t breathe. “I don’t give a shit if you changed your mind. When we arrive at my estate, I will put you on your knees and execute you like the traitors before you. Your blood will seep into the soil and bring new life to my garden. Your body will be dumped in the landfill where I put my enemies—and you will rot like the trash that you are.”

I tried to push his hand away, but the lack of oxygen made me weak. I couldn’t put up a fight to match him—even if I were fully prepared for it.

Just when I was about to pass out, he released me.

“I did it to save my father. And if I refused, they were going to rape and kill me.”

He faced forward, indifferent to my statements. “Your father is already dead. Perhaps if you were smarter, you would have figured that out.”

“What…?”

He didn’t look at the emotion on my face. He didn’t care about me at all anymore. “They killed him the second they had him. You did all of this for nothing. You could have asked for my help at any time. Instead, you conspired against me and actually believed you had a chance to accomplish the impossible.”

“I wanted to ask for help, but I was afraid you would kill me.”

He looked out the window, his hands resting on his thighs.

“You would have killed me, Cato. I had no other option. I had to save my father…but in the end, I changed my mind. I couldn’t do that to you. You didn’t deserve it…and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Maybe you turned around because you knew I was on to you.”

“I didn’t.”

“We’ll never know,” he said coldly. “And I don’t care either way. You made your choice, and I’ve made mine. Enjoy your last few minutes of life—just don’t shit in my car.”

The car pulled up to the roundabout where the fountain stood, the exact place where he had executed a Russian traitor just weeks ago. His men stood there with their guns on their hips, and Bates was in the center, looking even more pissed than Cato. With his arms across his chest, he stared at my window like he could see me through the tint.

I knew Cato didn’t unleash empty threats. He would drag me out of that car and force me to my knees like a prisoner of war. I’d done this to save my father, but now I realized, no matter what decision I’d made, I was destined to wind up dead anyway.

When Cato stepped out of the car, the men opened my door and yanked me out.

Bates was on me fast. “What did I say?” He grabbed me by the neck and punched me hard in the face.

I dropped to the ground instantly. I’d never been hit like that in my life. My lip bled and vertigo started. The pain didn’t knock me off my feet right away. It was the momentum packed into the punch.

Cato did nothing.

“I told you not to fuck with my brother.” He yanked my hand off my face then punched me again. “You fucking whore.”

My head snapped back at the impact of his fist. Now the pain kicked in—and it was excruciating.

Cato grabbed a pistol from one of his men. “Stop.”

Bates punched me again, making my nose bleed.

“Enough.” This time, Cato grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off.

“You should be the one doing this.” Bates yanked his arm free. “Make that bitch suffer.”

“Not interested. Not worth my time.” He cocked the gun and walked toward me, the weapon hanging at his side. There was no pity in his eyes for the way his brother had beat me. The second Cato’s eyes settled on me, that same rage took over. He raised the gun and pointed it at me, aiming for my skull.

On the ground like an animal, I was defenseless. All I could do was look at the barrel that would give me the release of death. I’d lived my life fearlessly, but in that moment, all I felt was fear. There were no words to describe how it felt to have a gun pointed at me like that, to see the man’s hand not shake at all. “I did it to save my father…what else was I supposed to do?” I refused to cry or shake. My last moments on earth would be full of dignity…at least as much as I could possess with blood dripping down my face.

“Don’t care.”

“You would have done the same.”

“And I would have paid the price for it—and not begged for my life.” Cato was the stone-cold killer he was rumored to be. He’d fucked me and shared private moments with me over dinner, but none of that mattered now.

Now that I had nothing left to say, I said the only thing that might matter. I wasn’t completely sure it was the truth, but based on all my symptoms, I couldn’t find a more logical explanation. “I’m pregnant.”

The gun shook as he narrowed his eyes.

“Liar,” Bates barked. “And even if you aren’t, you think we give a damn? Two birds with one stone.”

The gun continued to shake in Cato’s hand. “I expected more out of you.”

“I’m not lying, Cato. You know I’ve been sick for over a week.”

“From the guilt—of being a lying bitch.”

I placed my hand over my stomach, like that would make a difference.

He still didn’t pull the trigger.

Bates stared at his brother, his arms over his chest. “Cato, kill her.”

Cato continued to hold the gun, but his resolve faded.

“She’s lying,” Bates said. “And even if she isn’t, who gives a shit? Kill her or I will.”

The rage remained in Cato’s eyes as he lowered the gun to the ground.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Bates stepped in and snatched the gun out of his hand. He pointed at me and fired.

Cato managed to push the gun away from my direction at the right second. “What the fuck are you doing?” He snatched the gun.

“You’re too much of a pussy to kill her. So I’ll do it.”

Cato emptied the bullets out of the barrel. “We can’t.”

Bates stared at his brother furiously, his jaw tight and his head shaking slightly. “Who gives a shit, Cato? Even if she is pregnant, and even if it’s yours, it doesn’t fucking matter. Kill them both and be done with it.”

Cato lowered his voice so the men wouldn’t overhear his words. “Father left us. He turned his back on us because he was a coward. I’m not a coward. I’m not like him.”

Bates turned silent, and his eyes shifted back and forth as he looked at his brother. “It’s not the same—”

“It is the same. If she’s telling the truth, that’s my blood in there. That’s my family. You don’t turn your back on family.”

Bates sighed loudly, furious at the turn of events.

Cato nodded to one of his men. “Get her a pregnancy test.”

Now I really did hope I was pregnant. If I wasn’t…I would be dead.

Bates turned to me, a disgusted sneer on his face.

Cato approached me and squatted down so our faces were closer together. “Take the test. But if it’s negative, I will torture you before I kill you. So, if you’re lying, you might want to reconsider.”

I could either get a quick death now—or a painful one later. “I’ll take the test.”

He stepped back and didn’t help me to my feet. One of the men escorted me inside, put the box in my hand, and then stood outside the door while I did my business. Armed with rifles, the men would blow my brains out the second I stepped out of line.

“God…please be positive.” I peed on the stick and then waited for two minutes to pass. I always knew I wanted a family, but I didn’t expect that time to come so soon. I’d imagined I would be married to a man I loved for years before it happened. I’d never anticipated a moment like this, that being pregnant could save my life.

When the two minutes were up, I looked at the results.

Pregnant.

Thank fucking god.

I held the stick in my hand and felt the tears well up in my eyes. I’d been on birth control for years, but somehow this happened—a little miracle. My baby was about to save my life. I walked out with the stick held in my hand and was escorted to the front by the armed guards.

Cato snatched the stick from my grasp and read the results. He gave no reaction.

Bates came to his side and read it too. “Fuck.” He turned to me. “She did it on purpose.”

“I didn’t.” I spoke with a weak voice because my words didn’t seem to matter. It wasn’t on purpose, but of course, I looked guilty. I couldn’t blame either one of them for assuming that. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t.”

Cato stared at the pregnancy test again, like he needed to check it once more.

Bates looked like he wanted to strangle me. “Check to make sure it’s yours.”

“I will. But I already know it is.” Cato slipped the stick into his pocket.

Bates shook his head and walked off.

Cato stared me down, his expression impossible to read. He used to let me read his soul, decipher the emotions he worked so hard to hide from the world. But now he treated me like an enemy. “You’ll live here with me until the baby comes. It’s not safe for you to live alone. Once people find out, you’ll be a target. I’ll provide for you and protect you.”

There was the man I knew. The compassionate and caring man. “Okay.” I didn’t want to live there with him full time, but I was so grateful I wouldn’t be dying that I didn’t dare argue.

“But once the baby is here, I’ll finish this.” He raised the empty gun so I could see it. “Enjoy the last nine months of your life. They’ll go by quick.”

“What…?” He was going to take my child and then kill me? “You can’t be serious—”

“I’m dead serious.” He stepped closer to me, his face nearly touching mine. “My son or daughter is living inside you. They’re the only thing I care about. You’re just a surrogate, and once your job is fulfilled, you will serve your punishment.”

“Cato, they can’t not have a mother—”

“Shut up.”

It was the only time in my life when I obeyed.

“I grew up with a single parent, and I turned out fine. We don’t need you.”

Tears flew out of my eyes and streaked down my cheeks. The migraine behind my eyes didn’t affect my tears. The pain from being thrown around in the car and onto the concrete had nothing to do with it either. But the idea of never knowing my baby, spending nine months carrying it, only to have it taken away…was unbearable. “Please…Cato. No. Don’t do that to me. You can’t…please. Mercy.”

He kept up his cold expression, immune to my emotional plea. “I’ll let you hold the baby once. That’s the most mercy you’ll get from me.”