58. Chapter Fifty-Eight

I sit on my bed for hours, staring at the wall, my head shockingly clear. I'd expected to freak out, to cry, to yell, scream—something.

But I haven't done any of those things.

I'm calm.

I'm probably going crazy. Lost my mind completely.

A person can only handle so much.

But this doesn't feel bad.

This feels almost relieving. Refreshing.

A baby. I am going to have a baby. I'm going to be a mother.

I'm making a human being, one I can raise and nurture and make a good person.

Well, as much as I can. It only goes so far, but I hope like hell my baby will be good. A kind and caring person who values family and honesty.

But can I raise my child the way I want in this house? With these people? With Enzo breathing down my neck and not allowing me to go to the store by myself? What kind of life will that be for a child? Will they be allowed to have friends? Socialize? Go to school? Jesus, it's going to be awful for him or her. That's no life for a baby. For a child. It's no life for me.

Of course my mind goes back to escaping. But it's impossible. I've tried. Unless I do it while we're already out, like today. But after what Enzo said about finding me? I'm not so sure I should risk it. Because I hadn't thought that far ahead. The goal was always to escape. But what about after? Did I think Enzo would let me go? I'd leave and that would be the end of it? He'd just accept it? How had I not considered he would look for me?

Because you didn't think he cared enough.

Well, now I know he does. Because he's a psychopath.

But then things became tolerable. Then okay. Then, dare I say, good? We had normal conversations, we had amazing sex. We laughed. He came to me when he needed support.

If I try to leave and anger him, what will it be like when I come back?

Is it worth the risk?

That's the life-altering question, isn't it?

Is it worth the risk?

Well, I'm not going to be one of those girls who sits around wondering what to do. I'm not going to waste time, especially not since he already knows what's up. I may as well go out there and tell him. See what he has to say, what he wants to do. What kind of bullshit limits he's going to put on me now. I already have set mealtimes. Bet they'll get worse now he knows I'm eating for two.

But what if he makes me get rid of it? What if he's so furious it could be Rafael's child he won't allow me to keep it? That has me sick to my stomach. I take a few breaths and talk myself down. There is no way I'll let him do that. No goddamn way.

But is that something I have to worry about? I don't think so. Enzo said he wanted kids. This is what he wanted. A wife and kids. He won't make me get rid of it.

With a sigh, I get up and head out of my room into the dark and quiet house. I check Enzo's office and the bedroom—both are empty. I go to the kitchen. Empty. The next place I head to is the theater.

The soft sound of voices sounds from outside the room, which tells me someone is in there. Loud bangs and thuds tell me the voices belong to the screen and not people talking.

I push through the doors and step in. Enzo is sitting in the same place I saw him the first time I found him here. He doesn't look up when I walk in, so I go over to him and sit down beside him.

He's awake, eyes on the TV, expression blank. He's staring at the screen, but I don't think he's seeing it. He looks the same as he did last night when I found him staring out the window, as if he's pondering his entire existence. Maybe he is. How the hell do I know? I don't know a damn thing about the guy—not really.

I don't say anything for a long time, just watch the TV, the same as him. It's a movie I don't recognize, something that looks like it's from the 90s. All the actors who are now old and wrinkly are in their heyday.

"I used to watch this movie with my father when I was little," he says suddenly. "Me and my brothers. It wasn't often we heard our father laugh, but something about Joe Pesci put him in a good mood." He shakes his head. "I don't get it. The man isn't funny in the least bit."

"I don't know who that is," I admit.

He points to the TV when a certain man pops up. "That guy."

I look closer. "One half of the wet bandits?" I ask. His brow furrows as he looks at me. "Do you prefer the second one? You know them as the sticky bandits?"

He huffs out a humorless sound, and turns back to the screen.

Okay, note to self: No Home Alone jokes.

"For years, I never wanted children. Not in this life. Knew it wasn't worth it." Not worth the risk? "But then my father told me and my brothers, who shared the same opinion on getting married and having kids, that family was everything. That he needed more Bramantes to leave his legacy to. My father took family seriously. A hair on our head was never harmed by his enemies. Not once." He takes a deep breath. "My father made that declaration years ago, and it's always been in the back of my head, yet I never took it seriously."

"Why are you telling me this?" I question. I'm not in the mood to hear his life story right now. I'm cranky and tired—and I thought we were fighting?

"I thought I'd get all of this without having to take a wife and a child. Didn't think I needed anyone. Figured if I had to share what my father built with my brothers, it would be good enough for me. But…" He turns to face me, his eyes tired. "I went to the club. Paid a hefty amount to spend the night with a random girl for some fun, and instead, I found you."

"You found me," I whisper back, trying not to feel offended by it. But I am. Because what the fuck? Sorry, I ruined your life, Enzo, but mine is ruined too. Even more, honestly.

"My whole life, I've always thought things were good enough. Job is good enough. House is good enough. Car is good enough. Sharing my family empire with my brothers is good enough. But when it comes to you, Jordan, nothing is good enough."

My brow furrows, and I give a slight shake of my head because I'm confused.

He continues. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you today. I'm sorry I didn't give you the space you needed. And I'm sorry I took you as a payment, when I should have been man enough to take the risk and admit I wanted you. But your father? He's still lying to you. Still keeping things from you. He wasn't good enough for you, Jordan, and I couldn't let that continue."

"So tell me," I plead, my bottom lip wobbling. Why the hell do I keep getting so emotional today?

"No."

"Jesus, Enzo," I scoff. "What is the point in any of this? Why are you even talking?"

He turns toward me more, cupping my cheek with his large hand and making me look into his eyes. "Because I want you to know I'm going to do better. Regardless of the results—" He swallows hard, closes his eyes for a brief second and takes a breath. "Regardless of the results of the test, I am going to try harder for you because you deserve it. I don't want you here as a prisoner. I want you here because you want to be here. I want you here, because I want you. Because I want to be enough for you. I want to give you everything you've ever deserved, and I want to make you the happiest woman in this universe. Truer words have never left my lips, Jordan. When I heard your name called at the club, I was furious. Furious. But when I set eyes on you? Jesus, it was like time stopped. Everything stopped. The only thing after that moment was us, and I couldn't stop thinking about you."

His gaze dips to my stomach, and he once again swallows hard. He blinks and brings his gaze back to the screen, dropping his hand from my face.

I'm more confused than when I first came in here. I don't know what to believe. I don't know how to feel about any of this. About the truth he just told me. Those beautiful words he's so good at putting together. Living in this house is like being inside a freaking pinball machine. I'm being whacked back and forth, back and forth, just out of reach of the goal.

"Why did you do it?" I ask quietly.

It's been bothering me more than I care to admit. This niggling thought in the back of my head that if he can kill his own father, his own flesh and blood, why wouldn't he kill his own child? Why wouldn't he kill me? I need to know I'm safe here. That my child will be safe. And I've pushed this from my head since his admission last night because I didn't want another thing to worry about, but I can't ignore it anymore. Especially now I know there is a life inside me. One I have to protect at all costs.

"I did it for you."

All the air leaves my lungs, and I'm filled with a rage like I've never felt before.

"Don't put that on me. Don't use me to rid yourself of guilt," I snap.

He shakes his head, turning to face me again. "I did it for you, Jordan. To keep you safe. With my father still breathing, no one is safe. Not me, my brothers, and especially not you." He gets up, looking down at me. "You need to speak with your father." He turns to leave.

"He won't tell me anything," I shout after him, my voice trembling. He looks back at me. "Just tell me, Enzo. Please, tell me the truth."

"You need to speak with your father," he repeats.

He keeps going. "Enzo!" I call when he reaches the doorway, my heart pounding behind my ribcage. He stops and looks at me again. "Don't you want to know?" Tears are falling now, and I'm not doing anything to stop them or to hide them. Does he not care about the answer? He doesn't want to know?

"I do, angel. I really do. But I don't deserve an answer tonight."

Then he leaves.

And I'm alone.

Again.