Oh wait, wait!” I say, tapping my palm on the countertop by the register. “Can you undo that charge? Shit,” I say under my breath. “That was the wrong card.” I look down at the card Enzo gave me. My stomach feels sick. I promised myself I’d never use it. I knew he could probably see the account and he’d know where I was if I bought anything. Worse, he’d know I needed his help. I know it was stubborn of me, but I wanted to prove that I didn’t need him to fix my life after he left it in shambles.

Only…

I look at the box sitting on the counter. A baby crib. I just charged a goddamn baby crib to his card. Of all the possible times to have baby brain kick in. He’s going to think I was trying to tell him he got me pregnant.

I put my hand on my stomach, closing my eyes as my hands start to shake. I only kept the card in my wallet in case of an absolute emergency, but I knew that was a bad idea.

“I can cancel the charge,” says the girl. “It might take a few days to come off your account and get refunded though. Is that okay?”

“It’ll have to be,” I say with a forced smile. “Use this one.”

She smiles and takes the card, swiping again. “I’ll have someone help you to your car with that. Congratulations, by the way,” she says with a meaningful glance at my slightly swollen belly.

“Thank you.”

I leave the crib in the car until I can get Jess or my dad over to help. I had to move nearly two hours away to feel safe from Enzo’s father, and maybe even that wasn’t enough. But the veterinarian I interned with during college knew the head vet tech at a hospital out here and was able to put in a good word for me, so I took what I could get.

I felt like I was looking over my shoulder for the first few weeks. Now though? Enzo and his whirlwind of trouble feel distant, like a wild, fevered dream that couldn’t possibly be real.

By that evening, I stopped feeling so stressed about the mishap with the credit card, too. Chances are, Enzo hasn’t even thought about me since the night he let me go. It’s a cynical thought, and it stings, but I dwell on it like I might keep testing a sore shoulder, moving my arm just to make sure it still hurts, because it’s the only way to know if it’s healing. Like a stubborn injury, the empty place Enzo left won’t heal. Carrying his baby doesn’t help, and I’ve agonized over whether keeping it a secret or telling him is the right thing to do.

On the one hand, Enzo is as much a parent to this baby as I am. Granted, I think I get the majority vote for the whole pregnancy bit, but I believe a father has the right to know. Only… Telling Enzo would put the baby in danger. It'd put me in danger. And I can’t help thinking back to what he said about his childhood, how he ended up in the mafia because he wanted to be like his father and make him proud. What if my baby followed the same path?

So I do what I normally do when the debate comes up in my mind. I decide I’ll make a final decision when the baby is born. Until then, I’ll wait.

Jess came over when I called and told her about the credit card. She’s sitting in my small kitchen nook with a glass of wine in her hand and a sour look on her face. Her brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and she wears a big sweater and sweatpants. She always calls it her “girls’ night in” outfit. I’m sure it’s not unique to us, but it’s still our tradition to dress in the comfiest clothes we can find—fashion be damned—and watch a few romance movies. I’m blaming my pregnancy for the amount of chocolate I decided to stock up for tonight.

After I explained how I used Enzo’s credit card, the mood has been depressing.

“There’s a good chance he knows,” Jess says. She’s never one for hopeless optimism. Knowing I can count on her to give me the truth, no matter how unpleasant, is nice sometimes. Right now is not one of those times.

“He’d have to be constantly checking the account. What are the chances, realistically?” I ask, popping a Dove chocolate in my mouth. “I’m serious, if you had seen this guy, you would understand why I’m so sure he moved on. Enzo was…” Sweet, once you dug beneath the gruff and violent exterior. He was honest, and he followed through on his promise to free me. And he was also an absolute sexual beast, which he made painfully evident when he knocked me up after I’d known him less than an hour. I want to sigh at that last thought. I’d always thought of myself as a reasonable and logical woman. Strong-willed and intelligent. Not the kind of woman who gets seduced and has wild, crazy, amazing, unprotected sex with a stranger. Then again, I never could’ve understood what it would be like to be in that moment with him so close to me, either.

“Enzo was... what?” prods Jess. “Probably a murderer? Part of the mafia?”

“Shhh,” I say, bulging my eyes at her. “You said you wouldn’t talk about that.”

She gives me a patient look. “What, are you worried they ‘wired’ your house?” she asks, adding air quotes with her fingers to emphasize how ridiculous the idea is to her. But she didn’t get a glimpse into their world. All she got was a day of fear that her sister might’ve stayed out too late with a guy and my confused explanation of what happened. My dad said no one from the Luciani’s even tried to make a demand out of him. He’s seemed incredibly stressed ever since it all happened, but I think it was just the scare of knowing the work he loves put us in danger, even if what happened was unlikely.

Someone bangs loudly against the front door, making us both jump. Jess swears, reaching for a napkin to clean up her spilled wine.

I go to the door, wishing it had a peephole. I pull it open just a crack.

I nearly fall back when I see who is standing at my door.

Enzo Luciani. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a white v-neck that shows off his tattoos and a hint of his muscular chest. He plants his hand on the door, forcing it open so he can stare at me, chest heaving like he just ran a mile. His eyes scan me up and down, studying my belly.

I put a protective hand over my stomach, feeling it turn over with dread when I realize he must’ve seen the charge and put two and two together.

“Enzo…” is all I can say, voice a near-whisper.

“That’s him?” Jess practically shrieks from behind me. “Wow. Anyone ever tell you that you look like Adam Levine, you know, if he punched people in the face for a living?” she asks. When Enzo only spares a glare for her, she clears her throat, grabs her wine, and mutters something about just excusing herself for a long bathroom break.

I barely notice.

Enzo hasn’t said a word, but he doesn’t need to. I can see it all on his face, written so plainly it might as well be a book for me to read.

“It’s yours,” I say.

“I know,” he says.

I didn’t even realize he stepped inside my house, but he’s standing just inches from me, hand against the wall above my head and body so close my breasts are pillowed between us. I close my eyes, drinking in his closeness. I wanted to believe I could do this all without him—or any man, for that matter. I managed vet school while working full-time as a waiter. I’ve done surgeries by myself when my tech was sick. I’ve saved pets who should’ve been beyond saving. So raising a kid by myself should be no problem. Right?

Maybe I could’ve spun that lie and let it stick if he hadn’t come back. If he wasn’t here.

He brings his face close to mine, lips nearly brushing mine.

In that moment, I can almost forgive everything. After all, what is there to really forgive? Forgive him for being born into a mafia family? For doing what it took to protect them? For kidnapping me only to turn around and save me from anyone else his father might’ve sent? No… He doesn’t owe me an apology for any of that. He owes me an apology for putting this baby in me, for knowing his world and mine never belonged tangled together and for still doing it anyway, for fucking me when he knew he was going to kidnap me.

He pulls back, leaving me with parted lips and short of breath. He paces in front of me, restless energy spilling over. I can see the turmoil in his features. He held himself back from kissing me and I can only guess at why.

“I need you to come back to the city with me,” he says. “It’s not safe for you here.”

“What?” I ask. “It was safe for me up until now, wasn’t it?”

“It was…” he says, hesitating.

“What?” I ask. The look on his face makes my skin feel cold. “Did your father find out I’m alive?”

“No, but when I told the guys where I was going, Nico apparently went behind my back and told my father where you are. Chase called me on my way over here and told me my father’s men were already getting orders to come bring you back in. For good, this time.

I take a step back from him, feeling the weight of his world crushing its way back into mine with pure, brute force. All the work I’ve done in slowly convincing myself I could live a normal life after my clash with the Lucianis comes crumbling down in an instant.

“Nico betrayed you?”

Enzo nods, and from the way his lips twitch, he’s still dealing with the surprise of it himself. “Nico always had his eyes on working his way up the food chain. He probably told my father you were alive as soon as I let you go, and knowing my father, he probably told him to wait. Figured I’d eventually slip up and lead them right to you. Fuck,” he says, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall across from me.

Without him standing so close, I feel like I can breathe again. Like I can think. But none of the thoughts popping into my head are good ones, and I already long to have his wonderfully distracting presence back with me.

“My baby…” The words slip from me like a loosely held weight, pressing beyond all my other thoughts and worries.

Enzo, who had been closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts, walks straight toward me now, hands clasping my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. “Our baby,” he says. “You’re not alone in this, sweetheart. You’re not going to have to do this on your own. You understand me? I’m here now.”

Each word punches into me, forcing a spot inside my heart where the sound of his voice and the meaning behind it settles in to stay, feeling like a warm fire that I’ll always be able to come back to, no matter how cold I may be. Even if he can’t possibly mean it all. How could he? The movies may not get everything right, but I know you can’t just walk away from the mafia.

“I want to accept that,” I say softly. “But—”

“May not want to go in there for a minute,” Jess says in an oddly high pitched voice. She winces, knitting her eyebrows together as she seems to remember that it’s not just me and her in the house right now. “You know, on second thought,” she says, “I’m going to just go back in there to die. Flush me when I’m done. Thanks.”

She fast-walks like she's trying to hold a ping-pong ball between her buttcheeks back into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Enzo looks somewhere between amused and annoyed at the interruption. “Neela,” he says, after looking away from where Jess was. “We can talk about this later. You need to come with me. Now.”

There’s an edge of command in his voice that makes me feel like a captive all over again, but no matter his flaws, Enzo is the father of my child. I need to believe that counts for something. And… Last time he asked for my trust, he followed through.

What if he’s only lying about the danger so I’ll come with him? Maybe he saw I was pregnant and wanted to cage me again until he could claim the baby for his own and toss me aside. It’s a paranoid thought, and in truth, Enzo hasn’t given me enough reason to doubt him that much.

Still, I wish I had time to think this through properly. But I can feel the weight of his gaze like a mountain on my shoulders, compelling me to choose, and fast.

“I have a job here,” I say. I’ve already made my decision, but I want him to know the price I’ve paid each time he has inserted himself into my life. The first time, he left me with a baby and I had to leave my home, my job, and my friends. “I like my house. I even planted a freaking lemon tree in the back. Know why? I liked thinking the tree would be as old as my baby, and that someday we could make lemonade together from the tree, and I’d be able to say it was his tree.”

“His?” he asks, ignoring everything else I just said as he grips my forearm. “It’s a boy?”

“N-no. I mean. It might be. The doctor said I needed to wait until around twenty weeks before she’d check.”

He loosens his grip. “Listen,” he says in a firm voice. “I don’t care how it happens, but you’re getting in my car and you’re coming back to the city with me. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you there if I have to. Carefully,” he adds, eying my stomach.

I chew my lip, looking toward the bathroom where Jess is probably replaying her embarrassment over and over again. “What about my sister?” I ask. “What’s to stop them from kidnapping her when they don’t find me?”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “As far as they know, your dad completely refused to cooperate.”

“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “My dad said he never heard a thing about any kidnapping until I told him myself. You talked to him?”

Enzo narrows his eyes, but nods. “I talked to him briefly. It was before I let you go.”

I frown, confused. “My dad said no one from your family ever made a demand out of him.”

“Because I didn’t make any demands,” Enzo says. I just apologized for the scare.

I watch him closely, not sure I completely believe him. I can feel the sense of urgency coming off him like waves, though, and I know he’s not in the mood to linger here and explain everything to me.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll come with you, but you’re bringing my sister too, until I know she’s safe.”