1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Talia

"Ugh, I shouldn't have eaten pickles with the ice cream," I groan, holding my stomach. I'm on my knees in front of the toilet. Sandy stifles a laugh, handing me a wet washcloth. I never thought I'd be pregnant at twenty-four years old.

"It's not funny," I mumble. "Pregnancy cravings are no joke." I clean my mouth with the washcloth and Sandy helps me to my feet. "Neither is morning sickness. Well, in this case, night sickness."

"I told you not to mix them!" Sandy chuckles. "I'm just thankful you didn't ask for sardines and ice cream."

"Please, don't talk about sardines. Let's talk about my shift tonight instead." I splash cold water on my face, patting it dry with a soft towel.

"Are you nervous? It's only your third night working at the club, and Phil has assigned you to the back room."

"What exactly is the back room?" I've been in New York for a few weeks, and I'm grateful that Sandy got me a job as a cocktail waitress at the club she works at. I know it's an exclusive club, but after two nights of work, I wonder precisely what kind of club Echo is. It looks like a typical dance club in the front, but the room in the back is a whole different story.

"I've only worked in the back room a few times. I think all those guys are in the mafia."

Sandy says this so casually it catches me off guard. "The mafia?!" I squeal. "You can't be serious. You're joking, right?"

"Sis, I'm dead serious. Look at the facts. It's a secret back room in a club in New York City. The men that hang out in this secret room all wear suits. And not just ordinary suits picked off a rack in the store. These suits are custom-made and luxurious. They always have burly guys hanging around, too, like bodyguards or something. And they spend big bucks gambling in that room. Plus, the amount of money they spend on drinks. It's thousands of dollars a night, and they act like it's nothing. I guess that's why they tip the waitresses so well."

"I'm not feeling well again." My stomach is churning at the thought of being surrounded by these men. If they are in the mafia, they're dangerous. I just left a dangerous situation behind in San Francisco, and I certainly don't want to get mixed up in one in New York.

"You'll be okay, Talia. Phil has bouncers in the room to watch over the waitresses." Sandy brushes my hair away from my face. "You left Danny and all that shit behind you in San Fran. This is a new start for you and the baby." She gives me a soothing smile. "Besides, I can't wait to be called ‘Aunt Sandy'."

Danny, my ex-boyfriend in San Francisco, went from a romantic, doting boyfriend to a dangerous stalker in a handful of months. It was bad enough he cheated on me with a stripper. Then he decided to stalk me, claiming I belonged to him. After our altercation, he trashed my apartment. That's when I decided to move to New York with Sandy. I certainly wouldn't hang around to see what he'd do next. Especially when the police said there wasn't anything they could do to help me.

"You better get dressed, or you'll be late." Sandy hands me her favorite red lipstick, ‘Reckless Ruby.' Now I'm smiling. She knows how much I love borrowing her things.

"Since you're in such a giving mood, can I borrow your silver earrings?" I ask, giving her a cheesy smile.

Sandy snorts. "Do you want the matching necklace too?". Most days, she mothers me even though she's only one year older than me. On other days, she's the typical older sister.

"Yes, please! And can I borrow your black skirt?" I give her my best puppy-dog-eyed expression, and she caves.

"You're lucky I love you so much!" she exclaims, laughing down the hallway to her bedroom.

A few minutes later, she returned with the earrings, necklace, and skirt. "Have you given any more thought to finding Aleksandr and telling him about the baby?" She put the toilet lid down and sat on it cross-legged. Braiding her strawberry blonde hair, she gazed intently at me. I could see her deep blue eyes through the mirror, burning into the back of my skull.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I slowly release it out of my mouth. I try to not to let her notice how rattled I am hearing Aleksandr's name. Acting nonchalantly, I begin brushing my chocolate brown locks. "I don't think he'd want to know about the baby," I say matter-of-factly. "I already told you; he made it very clear that our night in San Francisco was exactly that–one night. He didn't sign up to be a father."

"It seems a shame that you don't know for certain." She uncrosses her legs and stands up. Putting her hand gently on my arm, she peers over my shoulder, looking at me through the mirror. "We both know what it's like to grow up without our parents. Just think about finding him. You still have plenty of time before the baby arrives." She gives me a quick hug and leaves.

As I get ready for work, my mind conjures up images of Aleksandr and the night we spent together in the penthouse suite of the Paradise Heights Hotel in San Francisco. His intense ice-blue eyes are forever burned into my memory. I can still feel his hands on my skin, exploring every inch of my body. And his tongue…mmmm…that magical tongue dragging orgasm after orgasm out of my pussy. It was indeed a night to remember.

My hands drift to my stomach, cradling it gently. When I woke up in an empty bed the morning after our rendezvous, I assumed I'd never see him again. And now I'm carrying his baby. Maybe Sandy is right. Maybe I should track him down and tell him. I'm in New York…he's in New York. I know he owns an art gallery. I can find him and tell him. Maybe he'd be happy. Stop it. Nothing good comes from daydreaming.

It's better to leave things as they are. He told me he was in San Francisco on business for just one night. He said he didn't have relationships. He said those words. There's no point in dreaming about something that will never happen.

"It's just me and you, kid," I whisper to my stomach. "And Aunt Sandy. You'll love her."

I finish applying my makeup and quickly get dressed. Pulling my favorite red T-shirt over my head, I take one last look in the mirror. I wonder if the baby will look like me with my hazel eyes and chocolate-brown hair, or will it look like Aleksandr with his chiseled features and raven black hair-or maybe a little bit of both of us.

Stuffing my work uniform and heels into a black backpack, I turn off the bathroom light and enter my bedroom. I pull on light blue jeans, black boots, and a denim jacket. It's the beginning of autumn in the city, and the weather has gotten cooler. In a week or so, pumpkins will decorate doorsteps, and the smell of apple cider donuts will waft out of bakeries. And I'll finally get my pumpkin spiced latte. Sandy hates pumpkin spiced, but I can't get enough of it.

My stomach churns. Oh no, the baby doesn't like pumpkin spiced! Don't do this to your mama. "I think the baby will take your side on the pumpkin spiced debate." I roll my eyes at Sandy as she does her victory dance.

Checking my clock, I see it's almost 9 p.m. "I'm headed to work. Are you staying in tonight?"

"On my night off? Not a chance," Sandy replies, grinning mischievously from ear to ear. "I happen to have a date with Nick."

"Nick?" I gasped. "Nick from the Italian restaurant on Forty-fourth Street?"

"The one and only. He couldn't resist my charm," Sandy giggles, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Have fun! But not too much fun. You don't want to wind up with a bun in the oven like me," I tease.

"Unlike you, I take my birth control pills religiously," she smirks.

"Hey, that's not fair!" I pout. "It wasn't my fault I forgot to fill my prescription. I blame it on Danny and his psychotic behavior stressing me out."

"I know, sis." Sandy pulls me into a hug. "I'm just glad you're safe…and the baby isn't his."

"I couldn't agree more," I declare. Pulling out of the hug, I stuff my cell phone into my back pocket and head out the door.