Born in Blood Collection Volume 1: Collection of books 1-4

by Cora Reilly

  * * *

  The next day my gynecologist confirmed my pregnancy and that I was seven weeks along.

  I could barely contain my excitement and nervousness when I came home afterwards. Dante wasn’t in his office. I called Bibi and grabbed a few pieces of plain toast from the kitchen before I stretched out on the sofa, hoping that way the toast would stay down. My gyno had said my nausea could last for several weeks, but I really hoped I was among the lucky ones who suffered from morning sickness for only a very short time.

  I was woken by the sound of a door being slammed shut and sat up, disoriented. It took me a moment to realize I’d fallen asleep in the living room. Heavy steps passed the living room door, then retreated to the back of the lobby. I stood, and after I’d straightened my clothes and hair, I headed toward Dante’s office. The door was closed as always. I knocked and stepped in.

  Dante sat behind his desk, a thunderous expression on his face. I leaned against the doorway. He glanced up, but didn’t say anything.

  “What happened? Did the Russians give you trouble?” I didn’t mention Frank, not wanting to remind Dante of my screw-up.

  Dante leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “No, the Russians aren’t the problem for once,” he said coldly. “Our own people have taken up the task.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? Did one of your men betray you?”

  “It looks like there’s not going to be a wedding.”

  “You mean between Gianna and Matteo? Why? Did they have another fight?”

  “A fight wouldn’t have prevented Matteo from making the Scuderi girl his wife. He’s obsessed with her. No, the girl ran away.”

  I walked into the room and perched on the edge of the desk, stunned by the news. “Gianna ran away from home? But how did she manage to escape her bodyguards?” I doubted Scuderi would have let her out of sight for a second. She was way too volatile for that.

  “I had a meeting with Rocco but I don’t know all the details yet.”

  “New York won’t be happy about it. Do you think it’ll lead to war between them and us again?”

  Dante’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I doubt it. Gianna ran off while she was visiting her sister Aria, so it’s as much the Vitiellos’ fault as ours.”

  “It’s on them then. How can it be our fault if she was in their territory?”

  “People are going to say Scuderi didn’t raise his girls right. Some will start to wonder how a Consigliere can control his soldiers if he can’t even control his own daughter. A few might even say it reflects badly on me that I’m taking advice from someone who lets his daughter go rampant.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Gianna has always been boisterous. Her siblings are perfectly well behaved, so nobody can blame Scuderi or you.” I remembered what Gianna had said about escape when I’d talked to her. Should I have taken that more seriously? I’d thought she was only letting off steam.

  “I’m not so sure. And who says that Aria didn’t help her sister escape?”

  My eyes grew wide. “But Gianna’s supposed to marry Aria’s brother-in-law. She would have betrayed her own husband if she’d helped her sister run away.”

  Dante nodded, that same cold smile still on his face. “Things are going to get very unpleasant.”

  I rubbed my belly absentmindedly. “What will you do? Has Matteo cancelled the wedding yet?”

  “Oh no. Matteo has no intention to cancel the wedding. He’s determined to find Gianna. He already started searching for her.” He sighed. “Scuderi is sending two of his soldiers with Matteo. The three of them should be able to track down the girl. They are professionals, and she’s a sheltered girl who doesn’t know anything about the real world.”

  I could feel a new wave of sickness rising up in me, but I fought it. “Don’t underestimate Gianna. If there’s anyone who could do it, then it’s her.”

  “Perhaps. But she’s also hotheaded, and that will eventually lead her to make mistakes.”

  I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth as my stomach churned again. Dante searched my face. “You look pale. Are you still not feeling well? Maybe you should talk to the doc.”

  “No, I…” I didn’t get to finish the sentence when another wave of nausea washed over me. I rushed out of Dante’s office and toward the guest bathroom. I wouldn’t make it to the master bathroom on the second floor. The moment I was bent over the toilet, I emptied what little I had eaten that morning. Bile burned in my throat. I closed my eyes for a moment as I clung to the bowl. It didn’t help with the dizziness; if possible, it made things even worse.

  My eyes popped open when I heard steps behind me, and Dante’s black Budapest shoes appeared in my peripheral vision. I quickly flushed the toilet and staggered to my feet. Dante gripped my arm to steady me as I swayed. “Valentina?” His voice conveyed confusion.

  I rinsed my mouth over the washbasin and washed my face. I could feel Dante’s eyes on me the entire time. I faced him, smiling shakily. “I’m fine.”

  Dante didn’t look convinced. He followed me into the lobby and then upstairs into our bedroom. I wanted to change my shirt. I couldn’t help but think it smelled of vomit. I knew Dante was suspicious, but I didn’t want to tell him about our baby when he was in such a bad mood because of Gianna. I’d rather keep it a secret a bit longer.

  Dante touched my waist. “You know I hate it when you’re keeping secrets. Don’t make it a habit.”

  I met his gaze, and pressed my palm against my stomach. Dante followed the movement, his body turning tense.

  “I’m pregnant,” I said quietly, hopefully. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. I knew Dante wasn’t the overly emotional type, but I’d hoped for at least some flicker of joy. But there was only suspicion on his face. He took a step back, eyes hard and calculating. “Pregnant?”

  “Yes. We never used protection, so I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked. Wasn’t an heir one of the reasons why you married me?”

  “That was the reason why my father wanted me to marry again.”

  “So you don’t want kids?”

  Dante’s mouth was set in a tight line. “Is it mine?”

  Now it was my turn to stumble away from him, shock and hurt slamming into me. I couldn’t even speak. Had he really just asked what I think he had? I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

  “Answer my question,” Dante said in a low voice.

  “Of course it is your child. You’re the only man I’ve ever slept with. How can you even ask such a question? How dare you?”

  “I’m not keeping track of everything you do, and there are many men who frequent the casino that wouldn’t say no to a night with you. You’ve made a habit out of keeping things from me. Do I have to remind you of Frank?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe it. Tears of disappointment and fury burned in my eyes. Being pregnant hadn’t exactly helped with my temper and emotionality. “How can you even say something like that? I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me like that. I’m loyal to this marriage. There’s a difference between not telling you about Frank and cheating on you.”

  Dante still didn’t look convinced. “My first wife and I tried for years to get pregnant. It never worked. You and I have been married for less than four months and you’re already pregnant.”

  “I don’t know why you act as if that’s impossible. If your first wife was infertile, then that’s your explanation. Have you never consulted with a doctor? Or did you think it was you who was infertile?”

  “We never went to a doctor to find out why we couldn’t conceive. Not that it is any of your business. I won’t discuss my first marriage with you.”

  I knew why he’d never consulted with a doctor. Stupid pride of Made Men. They’d rather live in ignorance than risk being told that they were shooting blanks. “Too bad. We’re discussing it now. I know why you didn’t want to find out. You didn’t want to know the truth, because you worried it woul
d make you less of a man if it was your fault that your wife couldn’t get pregnant. But now we know it wasn’t your fault. It was Carla who was infertile.” I winced inwardly at my wording. I didn’t want to badmouth a dead woman.

  Dante shook his head. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about Carla.”

  “Why not? Because you still love her? Because you can’t move on?” He stiffened. “I’m sorry you lost Carla, but I’m your wife now.” Suddenly everything I’d bottled up seemed to come to the surface.

  I could see that Dante was teetering on the edge of losing control, and I wanted him to. I was so tired of his sophisticated calm, of his cold logic. “I’m so sick of you treating me like a whore. You ignore me by day and come to me at night for sex. And now you accuse me of cheating on you? Sometimes I think you hurt me on purpose to keep me at arm’s length. When will you finally move on? Your wife has been dead for four years; it’s time you stop pitying yourself and realize that life goes on. When will you stop clinging to the memory of a dead woman and realize there’s someone in your life who wants to be with you?”

  Dante was in front of me without a warning, his eyes flashing with fury and sorrow. “Don’t talk about her.”

  I lifted my chin. “She’s dead and she won’t come back, Dante.”

  He clenched his hands at his sides. “Stop talking about her.” There was a hint of warning in his voice.

  “Or what?” I said, even though the anger in Dante’s eyes sent a shiver of fear down my back. “Do you want to hit me? Go ahead. It can’t possibly be worse than the knife you thrust into my back by accusing me of carrying another man’s child.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. If he raised his hand against me, this marriage would be over once and for all. I knew some women in our world accepted physical abuse—many didn’t have any choice but to do so, and Bibiana was one of them—but I’d sworn to myself that I’d never bow down to a man like that. Stupid tears made my vision blurry, but I forced them back. I wouldn’t cry in front of Dante.

  “You’re so busy honoring her memory and protecting the image of her you have in your mind that you don’t realize how badly you’re treating me. You lost your first wife through no fault of your own, but you will be losing me because you can’t let go of her.”

  Dante stared at me, completely frozen. The myriad of emotions in his eyes were impossible to read, and I was too tired to bother. I walked past him and he didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t move at all. “I’ll move into the guest bedroom. There isn’t enough room in our bedroom for me and the memories of your past. If you ever decide you want to give this marriage a chance, then you can come to me and apologize for what you said. Until then, I’m done with us.”

  I hurried up the staircase. Dante didn’t try to follow me. The guest bedrooms were always prepared for visitors. I slipped into the first, glad when the door shut behind me, and crept into bed. Maybe I’d sealed the fate of my marriage today, but I couldn’t go back to how things had been. I’d rather have a clean cut. Of course I couldn’t divorce Dante and he would never allow it, not that I wanted to, but we could lead completely separate lives despite being married. Many couples in our world did it. We’d go about our days like before, sleep in separate beds and play the married couple in public. We’d have to raise our children together, but most men took a backseat in these matters anyway. Eventually Dante would start frequenting Club Palermo or find a mistress like so many Made Men did, and I would focus all of my energy on taking care of our children. Many women had it worse, and yet the idea that I’d just painted my future made me sick; but I couldn’t pretend Dante hadn’t said those horrible things to me.

  It was out of my hands now. Dante had to decide if he wanted to live in the past or move on into a future with me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dante didn’t apologize. Not the day after our fight, and not in the weeks after it. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I went to my ten-week checkup at the gynecologist with Bibi. I didn’t even tell Dante about it. If he wanted to ignore the fact that I was pregnant, that was his problem.

  One week after the appointment, Dante’s sister Ines and her husband Pietro came to visit us. I had only seen Ines twice since the wedding, as she’d given birth to her third child four weeks ago. Zita had made dinner, as I was too tired to cook most of the time now, and only barely managed to drag myself to work for appearance’s sake.

  “Can I hold her?” I asked when Ines lifted her daughter out of the car seat. She searched my face, then handed the baby to me, who had little spittle bubbles in front of her lips and looked too adorable for words. The twins were bickering in the background, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the squishy girl in my arm. I carried her into the living room, cooing to her. When I glanced up, Dante was watching me with something close to warmth in his eyes. I lowered my gaze immediately.

  Later, after dinner, Ines and I went into the library to talk while the men and the twins stayed in the living room. Ines began nursing her daughter, then fixed me with a knowing look. “You are pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “How did you know? We didn’t tell anybody yet.” Not that I didn’t want to, but it was Dante’s decision if he wanted to make it public.

  “You didn’t drink any wine during dinner, and you kept touching your stomach.”

  I flushed. “I wasn’t aware it was that obvious.”

  “Probably not to a man. You aren’t showing yet.”

  “Please don’t tell your parents about it. I don’t think Dante wants people to know.”

  Ines shifted her daughter because she was too fussy to latch on properly. “Why not?” It was strange to think that this would be me in less than a year.

  I shrugged.

  “Are you two having problems? Isn’t he happy that you’re pregnant?”

  “I think he needs time to get used to the idea.”

  “He did something stupid, didn’t he? He’s my brother. I know he can be stubborn.”

  “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe it. Has he ever apologized to you when he did something wrong?”

  Ines laughed. “No. Sometimes I think he can’t speak the actual words. Most of the time he tries to ignore the problem until I give up and don’t expect an apology from him anymore.”

  That sounded familiar.

  “The anniversary of Carla’s death is in one week.”

  “Oh,” I said, freezing. I’d completely forgotten about that.

  “I just thought you should know. Dante is always in a particularly bad mood on that day. Maybe you should try to avoid him.”

  That wouldn’t be a problem.

  * * *

  My morning sickness had finally stopped, and physically I felt perfect. When I left the guest bedroom on June 1st, the day of Carla’s death, I expected Dante to be either out of the house or hidden away in his office. I jerked to a halt when I found the door to the room where he kept Carla’s old things ajar. I could hear rummaging. Was he in there looking at old photos of them together? I remembered what Ines had said—that I should leave Dante alone—but it had been more than five weeks since I’d moved out of our bedroom. I missed our moments of intimacy. Yet pride rooted me to the spot. The door opened and Dante stood in the doorway, carrying a moving box.

  I smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t meant to…” I trailed off, not sure what to say to him.

  My eyes darted to the moving box. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m moving these boxes out of the house.”

  “All of them?”

  He nodded. “Enzo and Taft are going to dismantle the furniture later and throw it away.”

  I swallowed. “Why?”

  “We can put the room to better use. It would make a good nursery.”

  A lump rose into my throat. “That’s true. But we don’t have furniture for a nursery yet.”

  Dante cleared his throat. “You could go shopping in the next few weeks.”

  “Alone?”

  “I co
uld come with you.”

  I nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  He didn’t say anything. Why couldn’t he make this easier on the both of us? Did he think I’d fall on my knees from relief? He hadn’t even apologized. This was the first time he acknowledged that we were going to be parents, and only indirectly. He hadn’t even admitted that he was the father of my child.

  “Do you need my help carrying boxes?” I nodded toward the boxes piled behind him in the room.

  “No. You shouldn’t carry anything heavy.”

  “I’m not that far along.” Again silence, and an expression I couldn’t read. I turned around, ready to go downstairs and have breakfast.

  “I want you to move back into our bedroom, Val.”

  I stopped. It was a request worded like an order. He hadn’t apologized. Despite all that, I heard myself saying, “Okay.”

  That evening I returned to our bedroom and when Dante’s hands started rubbing my back and butt, and he whispered, “I want you,” I nodded and relaxed under his touch.

  * * *

  A few days later, after I’d left Bibi’s house, I let Enzo drive me to the pharmacy for something against my nausea that had flared up again in the last couple of days. As usual Enzo stayed in the car to give me privacy. Bibi had also asked me for a pregnancy test because she suspected she was pregnant, but she didn’t want Tommaso to find out; he’d only get furious when her suspicions didn’t prove right. That man didn’t deserve her. I strolled toward the aisle with the pregnancy tests.

  “Val,” someone whispered. I turned slowly, knowing that voice from somewhere.

  Shock rooted me to the floor as I stared into the face of my first husband. His hair was shoulder-length, and much lighter than it used to be. He was wearing glasses that he couldn’t possibly need and had gained some weight. He was almost unrecognizable, especially with the way he dressed. Like a college student who’d rolled out of bed without much thought for what he was going to wear. It was a good masquerade.