by Bethany-Kris
“Elena, that’s enough,” Gian warned. “This isn’t your business, and you have no reason to care, either way.”
“Someone told me she was pregnant,” Elena continued, not heeding his warning in the slightest. “I had to see, so I did. I approached her in the grocery store. I don’t think she even knew who I was, or if she did, it probably wasn’t until after. A boy, she told me. Marcus for a name, maybe. You’re going to give your bastard—even if he is a firstborn boy—your family’s name? And not even for a middle name, but a first name, his given name. I don’t understand, I guess, what about her that does it for you. Like I said, nothing about her is spectacular or amazing. She’s just a woman.”
“Because she isn’t you,” Gian said, “she is the complete opposite of you, Elena. And that is everything. Stay away from Cara, understood?”
His rage simmered through his bloodstream, but he managed to hide it for the moment. How long that would last, he couldn’t say.
How dare she approach Cara?
How dare she seek her out?
Had Cara even realized?
“I will make your father look like a saint, if you hurt that woman or my child,” Gian murmured in Elena’s ear. “We both know the only reason you’re still a problem for me is because of your father. You have things in this life that she doesn’t, where I’m concerned. You have my last name, my homes, my money, and my grandmother’s rings on your finger. And you don’t deserve a single fucking one of them. You know it, too. So, try not to let your need to play games with the lives of others cloud the smart part of your brain that knows you’re safe and comfortable in your good little life here, Elena. I don’t love you and you will never have my children, because those are things she has. And if you try to take them away from her because you are jealous or bitter, I will scatter you from one end of this city to the other.”
Gian smiled, but Elena stayed stone-cold.
“Just so we’re clear,” he added.
Elena stayed where she was in the doorway. Gian went to bed. Cara, however, got an enforcer to watch her the very next morning.
“Eight weeks left—let the countdown begin,” Jenny teased.
Cara huffed as she bent down to pick up the rest of the art supplies on the small kiddie table. “Don’t remind me.”
“You’re thirty-two weeks pregnant, Cara. How can you not know it every second of your day?”
“That’s my point. I don’t need more reminders.”
Jenny laughed. “Uh-huh. Are you nervous, is that it?”
“Excited, but mostly …” Cara waved at her very large stomach that made it hard to sleep, eat, and almost every other function of life, including breathing some days. “I’m just over all of this.”
“Don’t worry. It will all be worth it in the end. Once you have the little one in your arms, all of the hells of pregnancy and birth will be forgotten.”
Oh, Jesus.
Birth.
That was another thing Cara was not looking forward to. Not by a long shot. That, she was scared of. Terrified, even. A baby—a small human—was going to come out of her body. Women might have been doing it for millennia, but sweet Jesus, Cara had not.
“Wow, you just went white,” Jenny noted.
Cara tried to be nonchalant as she put all the supplies away into their proper places. “I guess birth makes me a little worried.”
“When a baby gets in, Cara, it has to eventually come out.”
“Yes, that is the only guarantee about pregnancy. I’m well aware of that.”
“Women’s bodies are made for this, too.”
“Again, I know.”
“Then perhaps you should stop squeezing that glue bottle before you bust the top of it off,” Jenny pointed out.
Cara instantly dropped the bottle of glue into the container. “Okay, so maybe the idea of birth freaks me out a bit.”
“A lot, you mean.”
“Make it easy on me, Jenny.”
The older woman laughed, saying, “You know I won’t do that. My whole job is to make people talk about their deepest, darkest issues. Since no one else is around right now, I might as well work on you.”
“I’m not in need of a therapist, but thank you.” Cara shot the woman a smile. “Really, though, I know it’ll be fine. I’m just freaked out because I’m twenty-seven, very pregnant, and it’s almost at the end.”
“Which means?”
“My whole life is about to change?”
Jenny nodded. “But you know that, too. You know little man is going to change things for you, from your daily life, to school, to work, and that’s just the surface. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, change will come there, too. The fact that you know these things means the transition will come easier for you, from a woman, to a mom. Too many live in the clouds when they’re pregnant, and then baby comes, and boom, back down to reality. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”
“You make motherhood sound … like war.”
“For some, it can be,” Jenny murmured.
“I’m lucky that I have people to help,” Cara said, shrugging. “Like the ladies here, or my aunt and uncle. The father and some of his family, too.”
Cara said that last sentence quieter, and offered little to no information about Gian, his family, or who she meant.
“You say that like you’re leaving someone out,” Jenny noted.
Cara frowned, and turned to face the woman. “It would be nice to have my sister, too. You know?”
“To wish for things you cannot have, is human.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t like to dwell.”
“And I think it’s more than acceptable for you to wish your twin sister was here for this, even if it hurts a lot to think about. You shared your whole lives with one another. Boys, graduation, smiles and tears, laughter … life.”
Cara cleared the emotion lodging in her throat. “Yeah and this is one of the very few things we won’t get to share, so that’s a little hard. But it doesn’t matter, right? What’s done is done, so let’s get up, brush ourselves off, and move on.”
“It does matter, Cara. My advice is that you don’t hold those feelings in, or push them aside in pursuit of happier days, especially not now,” Jenny said, coming close enough that she could soothingly rub a hand over Cara’s back. “Because even if you think not dealing with those thoughts and feelings is better, you’re actually doing yourself, and the baby, a great disservice.”
“How so?”
“Babies have a way of reminding us of everything we are without once they come into the world, although unintentionally. The wash of hormones, all the changes, and everything else comes together like the Big Bang to make one hell of a combination on new mothers. Deal with how you feel now, so that when he is here, those things don’t surprise you.”
Cara nodded. “Okay.”
“And I am always here to talk,” Jenny added.
“Sometimes, I think you just like making people cry.”
“Hey.” Jenny covered a spot on her chest with her hand. “My heart. Did we not just have a deep conversation, of which you will take something away to use to help yourself?”
“So?”
“Remember what I said, Cara. Seriously.”
“I will,” Cara promised, “and thanks for making me talk. Too many people are fine and happy with me brushing them off when I say I’m fine, or something similar. You don’t.”
“Not my job to,” Jenny said, ticking a finger over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “Oh, well, hello there. Can we help you?”
Cara turned to look at who Jenny had greeted, only to see a waiting Gian standing in the doorway. “Gian.”
He pointed at Cara, a sexy smile growing on his handsome features. “I’m actually looking for her, as she has an appointment today, and I would like to join her.”
“You don’t have to do to that, Gian. They just want to make sure he’s turned properly now.”
“My son, so yes, I do.”
Well, now someone else could put a face to her baby’s father when Cara refused to.
Jenny shot a wink back at Cara. “Well, there she is. Why do you look so familiar to me?”
“My family is well-known in Toronto. We’re often on the news, or something similar.”
It took the older woman a moment to put together who she was looking at. A horrible sensation of dread dropped heavily in Cara’s stomach as she waited for it to click.
“Does the name Guzzi help at all?” Gian asked Jenny.
“Oh … my.” Jenny lost her happy disposition, but quickly plastered on a false smile. “Are you sure you’re in the right place, then, Mr. Guzzi?”
“Jenny,” Cara warned.
Gian rattled off something that sounded like a business name, but Cara couldn’t be sure. Jenny tensed, and then stared at Gian. “Really?”
“Yes. I thought I might take a look around while I was here, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Does she know?” Jenny asked.
Gian’s gaze darted to Cara, and then quickly back to the woman standing in front of him. “There was no reason for her to. It was a common thing long before her appearance and work here.”
“And the use of the business name?”
“No affiliation to a family name that may make some uncomfortable to be attached to, except in details that no one has time or need to dig into,” Gian replied with a smirk. “It does the same job as anonymous donations, of course, but simpler come tax time.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that.” Jenny looked back at Cara once again. “Thanks for helping to clean this place up. I will see you on Monday, right?”
“Monday,” Cara agreed.
Once Jenny was gone, Cara looked to Gian.
“What was all that about?”
“Pardon?” he asked.
“That vague, weird conversation.”
Gian shrugged his shoulders, his lips curving teasingly at the edges. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, mon ange.”
“Gian.”
He glanced away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, the woman who started this whole place—”
“Carolina Demaske.”
“She was a good friend to my grandmother, on my mother’s side, especially throughout her life, long after she no longer needed the safe haven that Carolina provided. There was a time when my grandmother had no one else but for Carolina, and it was a message she passed down on us all.”
Cara took in those words and what they meant. “You donate money to the shelter?”
“Monthly,” Gian admitted, “and it is just one of many that I donate to, personally. I know my mother and father, and even my sister and brother, donate to other places or things they want to support. Carolina’s House has always been one I focused on, personally.”
“That’s … wonderful, Gian.”
“I have too much, I don’t need it all, Cara. I can afford to give some away. Unfortunately, there are those who are not comfortable with taking money from a man with my last name and affiliations, so I have become smarter about donating, using businesses as a shell of sorts, where my name is too deep into the paperwork for people to care.”
“And I take it, this started long before I ever stumbled upon this place?”
He laughed, dark and husky.
It nearly killed her every time she heard that damn sound come out of his mouth. It was so fucking unfair that all the pregnancy hormones running through her body made it even more difficult to control herself around Gian. All it took was one of his chuckles, a look, or a smirk, and she was a stupid pile of hormones and desire.
And oh, God.
Being touched?
Apparently, Cara’s body had nerves where they never existed before.
Gian loved that.
Cara was just … overwhelmed.
All. The. Time.
“Long before you,” Gian said. “I may have upped the amounts I donate over the last few months, but I tend to do that whenever I have a particularly good year, money-wise.”
“Oh.”
“So, the appointment?”
Cara picked up her jacket and purse off the back of a chair. “You don’t have to come for that, I told you. It’s just a checkup to make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be.”
Once she was close enough for him to reach out and grab her, Gian did just that. Cara found herself tugged into his side, his arm wrapped around her lower back, and then he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Cara’s smile grew as her eyes fluttered closed.
“I want to go,” he murmured against her skin. “And then I would like to take you out to eat, get you home, relaxed and comfortable, and see what happens.”
“That does sound nice.”
Gian’s fingers danced over the column of her throat before he pushed her wayward curls aside. Just the feeling of his fingers against her skin was enough to make heat and lust bloom.
This was heaven and hell.
Cara had been trying to let Gian in more, and not be so guarded. Especially not where his wife was concerned, or even just them in general. She finally understood what he meant about circumstances and details muddling up a situation that most people only saw from the outside, and never what was below the surface.
He made her so happy.
He loved her so much.
Why did she have to give up those beautiful things, and Gian, because others said they were wrong? She wouldn’t. Certainly not now.
“I love you, Cara,” Gian said.
Like he could read her fucking mind.
“I know you do. You can say it in three languages, remember?”
He never forgot to tell her he loved her, in the loud moments, the quiet ones, and all the times in between. He never once forgot.
“And I can mean it in every one of them, Cara.”
No, they weren’t bad or wrong.
“I can’t believe it’s June already,” Stephanie said.
Cara glanced over her laptop, the dissertation she had been working on for the better part of two hours finally drifting from her mind. She welcomed the distraction. “I can’t believe I have one week left to finish this damn paper.”
“You’ll kill it, no worries there.”
“Thanks,” Cara said, smiling.
“But are you going to make graduation, or …?” Stephanie trailed off with a nod at Cara’s stomach. “How far along now?”
“Thirty-three weeks, and I probably won’t make graduation.”
“That sucks.”
Cara shrugged. “Late July ceremony is not going to coincide for me, unfortunately. I mean, I probably could make it, if I wanted to. But I’m going to be really, really pregnant, if I haven’t already had the baby by then. I figure since I already took time off from the shelter for around that time, I should probably use it to chill as much as I can.”
“I get that. And hey, the university does do the mini-ceremonies in the beginning of the new semester for those who took the summer to earn their final grades, or whatever.”
“Yeah, Professor Madele told me about it. She made it clear that if I didn’t participate in the coming one, I had better be there.”
Cara leaned back in her chair, resting her hand to the top of her swelled stomach. She thought the baby boy was already like this father, constantly wanting to move, never satisfied with staying still, and far too restless for his own good. Even in the womb. She could only imagine what he would be like after birth.
Still just like his father, probably.
“Miss Rossi?”
Two men dressed similarly in plain black suits approached the table, one already holding out a badge to identify himself. Not that Cara would have needed to see the badges to know the men were cops, or detectives. Growing up the way she had, cops were easy to detect. They all walked the same, dressed the same, spoke the same, and smelled the same.
Like a cop.
“Detective Seeley, and this is my partner—�
�
“Yeah, that’s nice, hello to both of you,” Cara interrupted. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, Miss—”
“Cara, please.”
“Cara,” Detective Seeley said, drawling her name out for longer than was necessary. “Actually, Cara, we were hoping you might be able to do something for us. Or rather, help us with some information regarding Gian Guzzi.”
Cara passed her friend a look, although to Stephanie’s benefit, the girl was trying to look anywhere but at the detectives. “Hey, Steph, could you give us a few minutes?”
Stephanie nodded quickly, and gathered her things. “Sure can. I was about to head out anyway. Call me when you wanna meet up to sprint again, Cara.”
“Okay.”
The detectives kept quiet until Stephanie was gone. Thankfully, the library was mostly empty, as it was only mid-day, and the girls had picked a quieter part of the library to work. One between the bookshelves, where only two tables were set up in the large rows.
“All right, ask,” Cara said, glancing up at the detective once she knew they were alone.
“Can you confirm you have personal ties to Gian Guzzi?” the detective asked.
“Define personal for me.”
The man’s gaze dropped to Cara’s stomach. “We have reason to believe he may be the father of your child.”
“What reason is that?”
“Well, we can’t exactly give that information away, Miss.”
“Again, it’s Cara. I’m not married, I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’m pregnant. We have far passed the respectable lady stage in my life, thanks.”
“Is Gian Guzzi the father of your child?” Seeley asked.
Cara sighed heavily. “And if he is? I don’t see what that would have anything to do with detectives approaching me mid-day, in the library of my university, when I’m attempting to finish my dissertation so that I can get my diploma before my son is born.”
“Our apologies for intruding on your time,” the shorter of the two men said quickly. “But we have reason to believe your personal affiliation to Gian may help us with our current investigations.”
