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Greta already has my pancakes waiting for me on the table and I allow Dario to do his morning routine and pour me some juice before he addshisrequired amount of fruit to my pancakes.
“Are you done?” I ask when he finally takes his own seat.
“And areyoudone being a brat?” He shakes his head impatiently before picking up his knife and fork and starting on his eggs. I decide to let him be the judge of that.
“Where were you last night?” I question him, it was late when he came home, and I could tell he had a lot on his mind.He didn’t even attempt to have sex with me, which is unheard of.
“Just business, nothing for you to worry about.” He smiles. “How are your pancakes?”
“Same as they are every morning. Delicious. Don’t try and change the subject.”
“Jesus, Madalina. I’m just trying to enjoy breakfast with you!” He loses his temper, which only confirms that what happened last night is still in his head.
“Did you kill someone?” I ask, dropping my fork.
“No, I didn’t fucking kill anybody. Not last night anyway… If you must know, I was with my father.”
“You never told me you were seeing your father.” I can’t imagine why seeing his father would make him so on edge.
“I wanted to tell him about the babies.” He shrugs.
“And was he happy?” My hand instinctively touches over my stomach as if I need to protect them and when Dario notices, he rests his hand over mine and smiles.
“Yes, he was happy, very happy,” he assures me.
“Then why are you being so tense? You didn’t even want to fuck me when you got home.”
“Because you were sleeping and you need your rest.”
“I was pretending to sleep, and it’s never stopped you before,” I answer flatly, starting to get frustrated, which these days seems to happen a lot more frequently than I remember.
“Look, we got into an argument, okay?” He retracts his hand and picks up his coffee. “Dad wants me to start taking over more of his responsibilities and I told him that you were my priority right now.” I can see how hard it is for him to admit it and I try extra hard to stop the smile from lifting on my lips when I hear him say that we are his priority. I shouldn’t like how that sounds as much as I do, given the fact I still hate him.But my thoughts and feelings seem to be out of my control since I became pregnant.
“You really said that?” I check, knowing how important his family and its legacy is to him.
“I promised to take care of you, didn't I?”
“So, now your dad hates me because I’m the reason you won’t do what he wants? I bet he regrets that decision he made to choose me as your wife, now.” I laugh as I stuff my face some more.
“No.” Dario frowns and shakes his head. “He was happy about the babies, he sends his congratulations, and says he will have his priest pray for two healthy sons.”
“Your father has a priest?” I almost choke on a blueberry.
“Yes, our family have a priest,” he confirms.
“He must have his work cut out.” I wriggle my eyebrows at him.
“You should watch your mouth, Mrs. DeMarco, or I might have to cleanse it.” He reaches across the table to kiss me, and I’m almost considering letting him, but he stops when the door bursts open and Vito rushes in.
“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but there's something you need to know.” I notice the way his eyes are flicking between Dario and me, and I don’t like it at all.
“What is it?” I ask, standing up before Dario has the chance to speak.
“Sir, with all respect, I think it’s best–”
“What is it?” I repeat, already getting a cold shiver down my spine. Dario looks a little wary but he still nods his head and permits him to speak.
“It’s Mr. Conte.” His guard swallows thickly. “He was murdered last night.”
