Home > 365 Days (365 days # 1)(62)

365 Days (365 days # 1)(62)
Author: Blanka Lipinska

“I’d like to go to another one. Could you arrange that for me?” I wasn’t going to back down.

Domenico took a moment to study me. “Of course. When do you want to go?”

“Give me an hour,” I replied, going into the bathroom.

I knew the Man in Black would learn about all this, but I needed to know if he had been telling the truth. If I had been drugged at the wedding party.

Before 1 p.m. we took a car and drove to a private clinic in Catania. Doctor Di Vaio didn’t keep me waiting. He wasn’t the cardiologist I had seen before, but a general practitioner—just as I had asked. I explained what I wanted to check and asked him to take the blood samples at once. Waiting for the results, Domenico took me to a late breakfast before driving me back to the clinic around three. The doctor invited me into his office in English, sitting me down in a chair and turning his attention to a stack of papers in his hands.

“There are intoxicants in your bloodstream, miss. Ketamine, to be precise. It is a psychoactive substance that can cause amnesia. This is very worrying. We need to order more tests and consult with a gynecologist.”

“A gynecologist? Why?”

“Why, you’re pregnant and we need to make sure the baby’s okay.”

I clamped my eyes shut and opened them again, trying to come to terms with what he said. “Excuse me?”

The physician gave me a surprised look. “You didn’t know? Your blood tests leave no doubt. You’re with child.”

“But… I took a test two weeks ago and had my period before that. How is that possible?”

The doctor smiled good-naturedly, propping his elbows on the table.

“You see, a period can still come even three months into a pregnancy. A pregnancy test’s result is dependent on many factors, including the time of insemination. We’ll order some more tests and a sonogram. The gynecologist will tell you more. We just need to take another blood sample first.”

I sat still, squeezing my eyes tightly shut again, feeling I was going to faint.

“Are you one hundred percent certain?” I asked.

“That you’re pregnant? Yes. Absolutely.”

I tried swallowing, but my mouth was suddenly parched.

“Are you bound by doctor-patient confidentiality?”

He nodded.

“Then I’d like you to tell this to no one.”

“Of course. The receptionist will point you to the lab and schedule a visit with the gynecologist.”

I shook the doctor’s hand and left his office, my legs shaky. At first I went to the nurse to have that blood sample taken before going back to the waiting room, where I met Domenico. I didn’t even acknowledge his presence, instead passing him on my way to the car. Joining me, Domenico sent me a quizzical look. The events of the last couple of days, my anger, and all that suddenly became unimportant. I was pregnant.

“And? Tell me, Laura. Everything all right?”

I gathered all my strength and plastered a fake smile on my face, replying, “Yeah. I’m anemic. That’s why I’m so tired all the time. I need to take some iron supplements and it’ll all work out.”

Everything was clear, but at the same time I couldn’t comprehend it—it was like some kind of trance. I could hear pounding in my head, and my skin beaded with sweat, only to cover with goose bumps a moment later. I tried breathing quietly, but I gasped for air instead.

The car headed back toward the mansion and I fished out my phone, dialing Olga.

“Hiya, bitch,” I heard her happy voice in the receiver.

“Are you free next week?”

“I don’t know… Not counting the blond guy with his rocket dick, my schedule’s clear. My main guy left to conquer new markets, so it seems I won’t be doing much. What’s up? Got a suggestion?”

Domenico watched me, understanding nothing, while I tried acting naturally.

“Want to come to Sicily?”

She didn’t reply, staying silent for a long while.

“What’s happening? Why are you already there? Everything okay?”

“Just tell me if you’ll come,” I hissed, irritated. “I’ll set everything up, just come here, please.”

“Sure thing, darling, I’ll be there. Just let me know when. Did that godly Italian of yours do something stupid? If he did, I’ll kill the motherfucker. I ain’t afraid of no mob!”

I chuckled, leaning back in my seat.

“No, it’s all right. I just need you here. I’ll let you know when I’ve taken care of everything.”

I threw the cell phone into my bag and looked at Domenico. “I’d like my friend to come over tomorrow. Can you arrange the flight from Poland?”

“Will she stay for the wedding?”

Fuck! The wedding. All this shit happening made me completely forget about it. “Was everybody aware of it? Was I the only one kept in the dark?”

Domenico shrugged apologetically and dialed a number on his phone. “I’ll arrange everything,” he said, putting the phone to his ear.

When the car stopped in the driveway, I stepped out without waiting for anyone to open the door for me and went inside the house. Traversing the labyrinth of corridors, I barged into the library. Massimo was sitting at a large table with several other men. They all fell silent as I entered. The Man in Black told them something and got up.

“We need to talk,” I said, clenching my jaw.

“Not now, baby girl. I’m having a meeting. Can it wait until the evening?”

I stood motionless, glaring at him and trying to calm my nerves. I knew too much stress would do me no good, especially in my state.

“I need a car, but without a driver. I need to go for a drive and think things through.”

Massimo studied me for a while, narrowing his eyes. “Domenico will get you a car, but you can’t go anywhere without security,” he whispered. “Is everything all right, Laura?”

“Yes. I just need a while away from this place.”

I turned my back on him and left, closing the door behind me and heading directly to Domenico, who was standing in the corner.

“I need a car. Massimo said you’ll get me one. Keys, please.”

He turned without a word and headed toward the stairs leading to the driveway. He stopped in the doorway and said, “Wait here a minute. I’ll bring your car.”

A cherry Porsche Macan pulled up in front of me shortly. Domenico got out and handed me the key, saying, “It’s a turbo version with a very powerful engine. It can go over 170 miles per hour, but please don’t try that,” he warned me with a laugh. “Why do you want to go all alone? Maybe you’d prefer to stay and talk to me? Don Massimo will work late today. We can have some wine together.”

“I can’t,” I replied, taking the keys.

I got inside the car, finding myself in a luxurious interior padded with cream-colored leather, and froze: there were knobs, buttons, lights, switches everywhere—as if a car needed all that stuff. The young Italian knocked on the window.

“There’s a manual in the glove compartment, but I can give you a rundown. This controls the AC, the transmission is automatic…” He started listing all the different functions, and I felt my eyes watering.

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