Page 14 of Legacy of Deception

“Yes,” I finally answered, nodding. “I love babies.” I just wasn’t sure how I felt about having my own.

Chapter 6

he went by daddy

BROOKLYN

Being around one single Deluca at a time, especially a Deluca man, was like stepping into high-society pressure that reeked of ruthless determination.

Too bad that wasn’t going to be the case at the christening. Delucas would come from far and wide to witness and partake in Nicolo’s welcoming and celebration of life in the Catholic faith.

I’d either be introduced to or see from afar Marco’s uncles, of which there were three that I knew of. Elio, Matteo, and Leonardo. All of them had been married at one point or another, but more importantly, they were Santo’s brothers, which meant they shared the same cunning mastermind gene.

If I had picked up on anything in the time I had known Capri, and by extension her family, it was that their loyalty to the Deluca name ran deep. Then again, so did a blade to the heart, cutting deep for maximum damage.

Walking into a room, even a church, filled with that many Delucas would be like stepping into a shark tank, each one perfectly content with sharing the space with one another until blood entered the equation. In that case, it would be every man for themselves.

Drumming my fingers on the bathroom counter, my long manicured nails hitting it first, I glowered at the pregnancy stick. True I had only just peed on it, but I wasn’t especially good at waiting, even minutes. Well, technically, I had waited this long. However, I liked to think it was for good reason. I couldn’t come up with what that reason was at the moment, but that was what I was going with.

“Fine, take your sweet ass time.”

I huffed, moving to retrieve the pink glitter lip gloss beside it.

Look at me, I was talking to a stick. Just dandy.

My doorbell rang.

I wiped excess gloss off the tip before leaning across the sink and staring into the mirror to expertly apply it. Technically, it would’ve been a bad idea to entertain the idea of kissing Marco again, and I wasn’t saying I was going to do that. Although, what was the harm in making him want to? I wouldn’t have blamed him.

The doorbell rang again.

Obviously, Marco wasn’t fond of waiting either.

Rolling my lips together, I hummed a note of approval at the way my ensemble had come together so smoothly. Never once had I questioned the feathers adorning the hemline trim of the short, white halter dress. If I was going to stand apart from everyone else as Marco’s fiancée, then I needed the faux feathers. Which was precisely why the heels and oversized hat matched, feathers decorating the ankle strap and open-toe part on my feet while they were also present on the brim of the hat.

Another ring sounded from the doorbell.

I very well could have been ready, but I wasn’t because I refused to go anywhere before finding out the results on this stick. I needed to know if I was getting married to one man and having another man’s baby. The anticipation was almost too much, and I didn’t excel in haziness. I craved clarity.

“Would one of you mind getting that?” I shouted, turning to the door and hoping someone heard me and would be a doll and do as I’d asked.

My place was currently occupied by a bunch of testosterone Marco had sent to move me to his place. I had tried conversing with one of them, but he had only grunted rather rudely in response. Then, I had made an attempt to count them as they came and went. At first, three had come in and one left, then two left, then one had come back in. Nevertheless, after a while, I had gotten tired of that, so I had locked myself in the bathroom to get ready and force out a pee. I had always known this about myself, but basically, whenever it was a necessity to urinate, not even a drop wanted to come out.

Groaning out of frustration for many reasons, I meandered over to the door to open it. I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring again, but no one had acknowledged my question either, so it left me to wonder if they had let Marco in.

“Does this mean we’re sisters?” Capri’s naturally raspy voice dominated the air first before she slowly came into view as she rounded the corner into my bathroom with me.

Capri Deluca was profoundly confident with an edge of resilience and a reputation to be promiscuous and outspoken in times when silence was preferred. Not that anyone’s preference dissuaded her any. Truthfully, it probably propelled her to continue fiercely in the undesired direction.

“Capri,” I acknowledged with a curt nod as I went back to lean against the counter, facing her as she came in and closed the door behind her, commotion still going on in the background from the movers.

I cataloged her outfit that straddled the line between chill and fashion-forward. I had been in attendance at the show during fashion week when she had gone backstage and insisted on speaking with the designer to bring home the exact piece. It was an off-the-shoulder satin metallic mini dress with balloon sleeves. Knowing what she was doing, she paired it well with matching point-toe heels. Her ears weren’t pierced, so she had no earrings on to speak of. Instead, her choice of jewelry was a silver anklet with crystals.

“That is my name.” She shifted her mini purse on her wrist. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, leveling me with a curious glare.

Fussing with my hemline, I shrugged. “I’m not sure, to be honest.” I didn’t really have an answer for one of the most loaded questions. My life wasn’t exactly making a whole lot of sense lately.

Who was I kidding? It never had, and that was exactly the type of life I’d practically chased, choosing murky waters when given any opportunity at all. My teenage years were filled with misjudgments and piss-poor decisions, and no one would understand this, but it was in those moments my heart thundered quicker. It wasn’t as though I wanted the turbulence, but it hit, and I’d learned to deal with it. Craving it.