Harry chases enthusiastically after the “plane,” completely at ease. His mouth is pulled back into a goofy smile, his eyes alight with joy. I watch him and can’t help but smile. This kid means everything to me. I can’t believe I’ve gone so long without seeing him.
“Mr. Bellucci?”
I look over my shoulder to find the nurse from earlier smiling warmly at me. “We’re ready for the ultrasound.”
I get to my feet and lift Harry into my arms. “Ready to meet your little brother or sister?” I ask.
Harry grins. “Yeah!”
We head into the examination room, where Alexis is laid on the table with her shirt pushed above her belly. An older man in a lab coat introduces himself as Dr. Steinman and offers me the seat next to the table.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he says cheerfully, smearing Alexis’ belly with ultrasound gel.
My eyes are glued to the screen as he starts to move the wand over Alexis’ belly. Her fingers find mine, and I squeeze reassuringly.
“There we are,” Dr. Steinman says, stopping with the screen centered on the black and white of an impossibly small figure. “That’s one perfectly healthy, seven-week-old baby.”
Alexis squeezes again, but this time out of joy. A baby. My heart swells, and my head fills with visions of a little girl with ribbons in her dark hair, or a little boy in a waistcoat to match mine and his brother’s. I already know that I am going to spoil him or her rotten.
“As far as pregnancies go, I would say this one is running smoother than most,” Dr. Steinman says. “You two have nothing to worry about.”
He goes on to reel off some facts and figures, but I’m barely listening. My eyes are glued to the screen. To the image of our perfect baby. To the sound of its heartbeat reverberating through my eardrums.
Once we finish, I keep hold of Harry on the way down to the car. Alexis is uncharacteristically silent, which usually means she’s thinking hard about the words she is going to say next. She waits until we are in the car and I have clipped Harry into his car seat.
“Does this change your answer?” Alexis asks softly.
“My answer about what?” I meet her sapphire gaze, and she smiles hopefully.
“About us being a family.”
I look out the window as the car pulls away from the curb and clear my throat. “I’m going to make sure you’re well taken care of. You’ll have the best prenatal care money can buy.”
“That doesn’t even slightly answer my question,” she replies, irritation lacing her voice.
That’s because I don’t know what to tell her. Can we be a family? No. I still can’t trust her. I can’t let myself feel for her. The concept of a family entails unconditional love, and I cannot offer that to Alexis when she could just as easily use it against me.
That being said, I can think of a few good reasons to keep her close.
“You and Harry will move back into the mansion,” I say. “I think it would be beneficial for Harry.”
“I agree,” she replies. “But Clara comes with me.”
I glance over, and she sticks her chin out with resolve. Considering Clara already knows about my organization, I suppose it’s not that much of a risk. I can already tell that Alexis’ return will be conditional on Clara’s recovery. She is fiercely protective where Clara is concerned.
“Fine,” I say, and look back out the window.
“Good.”
“Good.”
We spend the rest of the car ride in silence.
15
Gabriel
I leave Alexis’ room early in the morning, and it feels strange to me how quickly we have fallen back into our familiar rhythm. She has been in the mansion only a week, and already I have spent most nights in her bed, sneaking out of it most mornings. I can’t help myself. I can practically hear her body calling to me throughout the day, teasing me, tempting me. And then when I go to her in the darkness, she is always so enthusiastic that I couldn’t control myself if I tried.
I nod to the guards stationed outside Alexis’ room, and the ones further down the hall outside of Clara’s. I’ve had few interactions with the little blonde since she moved in, but she has been quiet and respectful, and that’s all I can ask for.
I go to my office to complete a couple hours of work while I wait for Silvano to arrive and present his report. At least I try to. I’m distracted by the thought of what he will have to say when he gets here. I don’t know what I will do if he doesn’t have good news.
I give up with an hour left to go and grab a coffee from the kitchen. My personal chef, Victoria, is rolling out dough. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
“Good morning,” she greets, sprinkling a little more flour on her rolling pin. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”
“Good morning.” I go to pour myself a cup and feel Victoria’s eyes on me.
“It’s nice to have Alexis and Harry back,” she says airily.
“Mm,” I grunt, and leave. I can almost feel Victoria’s nervous energy flood into the hallway as she wonders if she’s offended me.
The truth is, she’s right. I just don’t want to admit out loud that it has been nice to have them back. The energy in the house feels different. Laughter fills the halls, and the air feels warmer somehow.
I go back to my office, and it feels like a millennium has gone by, by the time Silvano arrives, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.
“What did you do to Victoria?” he asks. “She’s stress baking.”
“I didn’t do anything to her.” I gesture impatiently for him to sit down. “She bakes. It’s part of her job.”
Silvano perches on the chair, one eyebrow cocked. “When I popped into the kitchen, she had about eight dozen cookies on sheets waiting to go in the oven, plus she was rolling out pastry dough for vol au vents.”
I shrug. “Alexis eats a lot,” I reply. “Now, get on with your report.”
He smiles knowingly and takes a sip of his coffee. “There’s nothing to report. Over the past week, I’ve left a veritable buffet of incriminating material either out for her to find or tucked away in places where you thought she might look. She hasn’t gone to the shed where you used to store the purple heroin, and the cellar has been unlocked, but she hasn’t so much as poked her head inside. Anytime she has come across documents, she has barely spared them a glance, and she gave the guards a good tongue lashing after stumbling upon a gun. On one occasion she even told Clara not to touch a dossier I left on the living room table, and had one of the guards return it to you.”
“She’s being very clever,” I remark.
Silvano’s gray eyes go wide. “Clever? No, Gabriel. She’s being trustworthy.”
I frown. I’m still wary. It has only been a week, and who is to say Alexis doesn’t know she’s being tested? She’s whip-smart when she wants to be.
“You don’t want to believe her,” Silvano presses. “It goes against your black-and-white worldview. If you start to trust her now, it slides her out of the black and into the gray, and that’s going to mess up beliefs that you’ve had ingrained in you your whole life.”