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The room falls silent, and I continue to stare at Caelian’s stunned expression, shock rippling through the air. It’s toxic, suffocating, and I have to clench my jaw as I gather the strength to say it again.
“My wife is pregnant, and there’s a chance that Nunzio might be the father.”
As the words leave my mouth, my control breaks, and I launch my glass across the room. Shards of glass explode, shattering on impact, mirroring the chaos that’s been warring inside me ever since the conversation Mira and I had in the middle of the goddam night.
All levity is drained from my brothers’ faces and the room is silent for several moments as they struggle to process this information.
“Please say that again,” Alexius says in disbelief.
I bite my bottom lip, snarling as my insides crawl with rage. “My wife might be carrying Nunzio Ferrero’s baby, and not mine.”
“How the fuck is that possible?” Caelian mutters.
“He raped her, Caelian,” I sneer. “Repeatedly. And now she’s pregnant, and we have no idea whether it’s his or mine.”
Isaia’s confusion is evident in his furrowed brow and how he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “But isn’t there some way to figure it out? Like if she counts her…umm…cycles or something?”
“The doctor says she’s almost eight weeks along, which matches the timeline.” My throat burns as if laced with acid, burning its way through my insides.
“Jesus Christ,” Alexius curses. “There really might be a chance this baby is his?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Motherfucker!” He slams his fist into the table, but no one flinches. Everyone is too wrapped up in the magnitude of this ginormous fuck-up to notice if a goddamn bomb went off in the goddamn hallway.
Maximo remains silent on the other side of the room. He hasn’t moved an inch since I shared the news, and I can only imagine the chaos raging through his thoughts.
“Just when we think all this can’t get more fucked up.” Isaia falls back in his seat. “How is she?”
“That’s a stupid fucking question, you asshole. How the fuck do you think she is?” I pull out a cigarette, light it, and inhale as deep as my lungs allow me, reminding myself that my brothers aren’t the enemies here. I release the lungful of smoke across the room, watching as the bitter-tasting cloud dissipates. “She’s a fucking mess.”
“Understandably so.” Alexius gets up and goes to pour himself a glass of bourbon.
“Pour me one of those, would you?” Caelian says before he, too, lights himself a cigarette. “Jesus Christ. This is insane.”
“But there’s still a chance it could be yours?” Alexius retakes his seat. “You can still be the father?”
I nod as I stub out the cigarette in the large glass ashtray on the table. “There is a fifty-fifty chance, yes.”
“There’s tests that can be done to determine this?”
“There’s a non-invasive prenatal paternity test they can do.”
“Great,” Caelian exclaims. “Then let’s do that. Get that shit done asap because God knows there is no way any of us will survive the fuckton of pressure and tension that will descend on this house for nine fucking months.”
“Seven.”
“Seven fucking months.”
“I know you probably know this,” Alexius starts. “But this has the potential to change everything, you know? Between our family and the Ferreros.”
I lift a brow. “Believe me. I’m well aware.”
“Pardon my motherfucking ignorance, but explain to me how this will change anything with those assholes.” Caelian seethes.
“If this baby is…notNicoli’s,” Alexius says, meeting my gaze, “some will see it as a union of our families.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Caelian’s eyes go wide. “Tell me you’re shitting me. That fucker raped our sister-in-law, and if she’s pregnant with his kid some will see it as a what? An alliance?”
