Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Ugh.
I wipe my palm over my clammy forehead and sit flat on my butt on the bathroom floor.
The thought pops into my head for the second time the past week.
Could I be pregnant?
So soon?
It’s been two months since Armani and I first slept together. Doesn’t it take longer before you have morning sickness?
Getting up off the floor, I walk to the kitchen and pick up my phone to Google ‘morning sickness.’
My eyes widen when I read it can start at six weeks, and it’s usually at its worst around week nine of pregnancy.
Oh my God.
My heart starts beating faster as the possibility sinks into my heart and takes root.
What if I’m pregnant?
Dear God, I’ll be so happy!
I leave all the ingredients lying on the counter, and grabbing my purse, I rush out of the house.
Please.
I jog down the street, and one of the neighbors calls from the front door, “Why the hurry?”
I call back with a massive smile on my face. “I need something from the store,”
In record time, I hurry into the drug store and find the aisle with pregnancy tests. There are three kinds, and not knowing which one to take, I grab one of each and dart to the counter to pay.
The cashier glances between the tests and me. “I hope you get the news you want.”
“I hope so too,” I grin, anxious to get home so I can pee on a stick.
I tap the credit card Armani gave me to use, and taking the paper bag, I rush out of the store and run home. My heart beats faster and faster, and the anticipation becomes overwhelming.
Please.
Please.
Please.
I picture myself with a round belly. Holding a little bundle of joy. Giving Armani a son.
Dear God, please. I want to be a mother so badly.
I barrel into the house and head straight for the bathroom. Opening the paper bag, my fingers fumble with the boxes, and I quickly read the instructions.
When I’ve done everything, word for word, I stare at the three sticks.
They change one by one, giving me the answer I hoped to see.
I cover my mouth with my hands as I burst out in happy tears.
Pregnant.
Armani and I are having a child together.
We’re going to be parents.
I’m going to be a mother.
I lower one of my hands to my flat abdomen and gently rub over the area.
I have a little human inside me. What a miracle this is.
My happiness comes in waves of emotions. I sob. I laugh. I coo at my stomach.
This is such a blessed day, and wanting to make it special for Armani, I gather the pregnancy tests and take them to the bedroom. I place them on his bedside table, and hurry to the kitchen to make cupcakes. I want to write on one that he’s going to be a daddy and place it by the tests.
I can’t wait to see his reaction.
Mamma will be over the moon with the news of her first grandchild.
I have the home I’ve always wanted, an amazing husband I love, and a baby on the way who I’ll give the world to.
Thank you.
Chapter 34
Armani
When I return to my office after I checked a shipment of weapons, I notice a manila envelope on my desk.
Fuck, I’m tired of standing in the warehouse for hours. I can’t wait for this day to be over so I can go home.
Dropping onto my chair, I pick up the envelope and tear it open. A digital voice recorder falls out with a note attached to it.
You should know the truth.
Maybe it’s dirt on one of our drivers? Or a snitch.
Good, it’s been a while since I’ve killed someone. It will help ease my stress.
I press play, and at first, there’s just static, then I hear a man groaning, ‘You take my cock so well, baby.’
“What the fuck?” I mutter, frowning at the device in my hand.
I hear the slapping of skin, then Tiana’s voice. ‘Harder, moya lyubov'. Please. Oh, God, yes.’
Everything in me stills, and violent anger creeps over my skin like a deadly virus. My eyes drift shut as I continue to listen to my wife fucking another man.
‘Who do you belong to, my little whore?’ the man asks, his Italian accent thick.
‘I’m yours,’ Tiana moans.
I listen as she orgasms, her cries of ecstasy destroying my heart in a single fucking blow.
Gesù Cristo.
Intense heartache rips through me with the destructive force of a nuclear bomb. As if hearing it once wasn’t torturous enough, I fucking press play again and listen as Tiana throws everything we had away.
I fucking trusted her.
I gasp as raw pain tears through me, the viciousness of being betrayed by the person I loved most in the world, too much to cope with.
Pushing the chair back, I rest my forearms on my thighs and lower my head. I try to breathe through the unbearable agony.