64. Chapter Sixty-Four

The news of Amadeo Bramante's death spreads like wildfire.

Per the treaty, an emergency meeting is called. And of fucking course, it has to be today. The day the doctor is scheduled to see Jordan for the baby.

"So," Maximo begins. "We're here as stated in the treaty. If one of the head of the families dies, we meet to discuss changes and announce the successor."

"We don't want any changes, other than our names being put in there instead of our father's," Elio says firmly. "This way there is no confusion moving forward."

"The three of you?" Maximo asks with a shake of his head. "That's not common."

"There's nothing against it," I say. "And that's what our father wrote in his clause."

The clause I mention is the one each family has in the treaty which states who will handle things if the current head dies. They're all aware of what's in there, so I'm not sure where this is coming from.

"You're right, but are you sure that's a wise decision?" Maximo asks carefully, looking between the three of us.

"I don't like you questioning our decisions," I say.

"What my brother means to say," Elio begins, shooting me a glare, "is we've discussed it thoroughly and are sure we'd like to move ahead with this. It's what our father wanted, so we will make it work."

"And who will have the 34%? You can't split it between three of you evenly," Maximo continues.

"I will, as I'm the oldest," Elio says. "It's already been discussed, and the territory has been laid out. It's all in the file we provided."

The file will be an attachment to the treaty until the new one is made up. We knew they'd ask a million questions about the three of us taking over, so we provided everything we assumed they'd ask for, like a map of who will handle what. Even though the Bramante borders won't change, they'll want to know who is where, in case there are any problems. We've already handled it.

"All right. It seems the only issue to handle is the changing of names in the treaty," Maximo begrudgingly adds.

"No, I don't think so," Dario says, with a shake of his head.

"What the fuck," I mutter. Elio glares at me again.

Marco has been oddly silent. Our father's death is hitting him hard. He hasn't put it together yet. He thinks Dad shot himself. Which is what I wanted them both to think. Problem is, Elio is too deep into this life to fall for something like that. Marco isn't stupid, he just prefers to accept things at face value.

"What's the problem, Dario?" Maximo asks with a huff.

No one has appointed Maximo the head of anything. We're all equals here. He has no more say than the rest of us, but he has been around the longest compared to everyone else and took over the lead position when my father got ill. When our father was around, he was the one who took charge. Maximo has been around the block and knows what he's doing, so I'm fine with him stepping into this role, but it doesn't mean I trust him outside of this meeting room.

"I don't like it," Dario says simply.

"Like what, exactly?" I ask.

"Your fucking attitude, for one," he barks.

I smirk. "I'm not here to please you, Dario. Isn't that what your wife is for? Oh, wait. She's dead."

He slams his fist on the table. "You better watch your mouth, you little shit."

"Dario, what is the problem?" Maximo repeats. The man is losing his patience. Everyone can see it. Maximo is a powerful man, and he isn't someone I'd want on my bad side. Dario should watch what the hell he's doing.

"I'm not okay with the three of them running so much territory."

"It's not up to you. There's nothing that says they can't. It's Bramante land. This is how it goes," Maximo argues.

"It's not right. Shit is going to fall apart." Dario stresses his final two words with a hand slap on the table.

"It's not your territory to worry about," Maximo explains.

"It will be when they can't keep shit straight and fuck everything up for the rest of us," Dario shouts.

A quick glance around the table tells me no one else shares his concerns. It's clear he's being a dick, and everyone knows it. Connor Kearney is picking at his nails, while his brother, Sean, looks like he's sleeping. His head is rested back, hands folded on his chest.

"If that happens, we will handle it." Maximo keeps his patience about him, which is surprising. Maybe I should have a better hold on my anger, but it's difficult when dealing with morons like Dario.

"No," Dario barks, slamming his hand to the table again. "I don't accept it."

"And you want to comment on my temper?" I mutter.

Connor huffs out a laugh.

Everyone else ignores me, and Maximo continues trying to figure out why Dario has a stick up his ass. "So what? You want to renegotiate the entire treaty? Do you have any idea how long that will take?"

Dario shakes his head. "I don't care if it takes years."

Maximo looks around the room. The Kearney brothers are both shaking their heads now, looking more annoyed than anything. Maybe I can get Dario to piss them off more, and they can take him out for me. Doesn't Dario know all he's doing is making enemies around this table?

"How does no one else have a problem with this? We can't trust these boys to handle all that territory." Dario flicks his wrist at us.

"Boys?" Elio questions. "Now you're just insulting us."

"You know how this goes, Dario. Whatever you have an issue with, you need to submit it officially to all parties. We will reconvene and discuss."

"I want to do this today," Dario says, tapping the table with his finger.

I'd love to see what he would do with items he could throw. Maybe next time I'll bring some to leave around. Would love for him to throw something at me so I could slice his throat and watch him bleed out right on this table.

"Absolutely not. I have things to do," I say firmly.

"More important than this?" Dario asks but doesn't wait for an answer. "This is exactly my point. If you aren't going to take this seriously, you don't deserve it."

I smile, get to my feet, planting my hands on the table and leaning forward. I smile nice and big for him. "If you must know, I have an appointment with my wife's OB-GYN." Dario's face falls. "That's right. She's pregnant. With my child. I'm carrying on the Bramante name, Dario. So yes, this is more important. Now, you can kindly go fuck yourself and follow the rules of the treaty." I turn to Maximo. "Are we done here?"

He nods.

My brothers get up, and we head outside to our cars, stopping by mine. Dario and Maximo are shouting at each other as we go. I can only hope Dario loses his temper entirely, so Maximo shoots him and ends all our suffering.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Marco asks. A pang of guilt hits me right in the chest.

"Things have been chaotic. I'm sorry."

"I understand. It's okay. I mean, can we go by? Has Elio met her yet? How far along is she? We gonna be godfathers or what?" I'm not in the mood for Marco's rapid-fire questions, but he's my brother, and he's hurting right now.

"One thing at a time, Marco. Chill," I say.

"Sorry, I'm just excited."

"She's only about two months along. Maybe not even. We don't know much yet. Today is her first appointment. I'll call you later and let you know," I say, pulling open the car door.

"And no, I haven't met her yet, so perhaps Sunday dinner will be at my place this week?" Elio suggests.

"No, it'll be at my place because it's already been at yours and Vincenzo's. Same time. See you then." Marco walks away and gets into his BMW and drives off. I glance at Elio with a raised brow.

"He has no idea," he tells me.

"And we're going to keep it that way."

He nods and sighs. "See you Sunday."

He walks to his own car, and I get into mine where Antonio is waiting in the driver's seat.

The doctor is already here by the time I show up, and I hope like fuck Jordan wasn't able to convince him to start without me. When I left this morning, she was so eager to see her baby for the first time.

Same as me.

But also, we get to see how far along she is. We get a due date. And we get to schedule the paternity test.

I'm grateful when I find Jordan and Rafael sitting outside the medical room. There are two armchairs in the hall that aren't usually there. Jordan looks up when she sees me and gives me a nervous smile.

I lean down to kiss her cheek. "Everything okay?"

She nods. "Just excited."

"And nervous," Rafael adds. "Impatient, too."

She slaps him playfully on the arm.

"You or her?"

He shrugs. "Both I guess."

"The doctor is already in there," she says as she stands. "Told us to go in when you got here." The three of us walk inside, but she stops and turns to me. Rafael continues on.

"Is he going to—what if he says something? You know; about the baby and you and Rafael?" Her words are quiet.

I place my hands on her cheeks. "Angel, this man is paid more money than you can imagine, and it isn't for his doctorate. It's for his discretion and ability to keep his mouth shut and opinions to himself."

She nods, chewing on her lip. I kiss her softly and guide her into the room. The portable machines he brought are set up by the exam table, and the equipment to draw blood is laid out on the counter by the sink to the right. The room, other than being in a house, is set up exactly as it would be in a doctor's office.

The old man smiles as we walk in, and I help Jordan onto the table.

He and his son, Baron White and Baron White Jr.—who will take over when his father can't handle it any longer—are the only doctors I mess around with. The Whites have been with my family for years, and I plan for it to remain that way. They've always been loyal and appreciative. Never ask questions and keep quiet.

"First I'll do a regular exam. Then I'll listen for the heartbeat and do a sonogram. You can ask any questions you may have at any point." Just like Dr. White to be direct.

"Okay," Jordan says, giving him a small smile.

"Relax, angel," I tell her, standing beside the bed. Rafael is by the foot of the bed, looking like he may pass out.

Jordan blows out a breath and nods. Dr. White goes through the motions of checking her vitals, and when he's done, he lays her down and asks her to pull up her shirt so he can feel around her stomach. She tentatively lifts it beneath her breasts, and he presses along her abdomen in different spots.

"I'm going to place this paper cloth beneath your waistband so I don't get any gel on your clothing, and I'll need to lower them just a bit to get the right positioning."

"Okay."

I don't like him touching her like this, but it needs to be done. For our baby. So I keep my mouth shut.

He squirts some bluish colored gel on her stomach and places the doppler on top. He moves it around, and before I know it, a fast thumping sound echoes through the room.

The old man smiles, staring off into space, seemingly thinking something over.

"Strong heartbeat," he comments. "146. That's great. Any questions so far?" he asks, looking between the three of us. We all shake our heads. I'm still in disbelief over hearing my child's heartbeat for the first time. My eyes find Jordan's flat stomach. To think there is a small baby in there. A growing child. A life. It's—I can't put it into words.

Jordan reaches for my hand and squeezes so tightly, making me realize I'm still staring at her stomach. I look at her, and she smiles so brightly.

We made a baby.

Well, one of us did. The thought sobers me, and I try not to feel any resentment toward Rafael. If this is his baby? Well, it's still my baby, too. And if it bothers me so much, I'll have to get her pregnant myself next time.

Dr. White goes to the ultrasound machine, turns it on, and wheels it closer to the bed. He swivels the screen so Jordan can see it and Rafael moves to my side to get a better look.

Rafael looks down, pausing at my hand linked with Jordan's, with an almost longing look, but quickly brings his attention back to the screen. I wonder if this has him thinking about some life changes. Or maybe he's regretting agreeing to be a part of this.

"All right, dear, more gel. This may be cold," Dr. White says.

He squirts more gel onto her and presses this larger doppler to her lower stomach. He moves it around, and I watch on the screen as shades of black, white, and grey move but I have no idea what the hell anything is. All the colors look like nothing more than little blobs or random shapes. He stops on one part in particular, leaning closer to the screen as if trying to see something better.

To me, it doesn't look like much of anything. Just two black circles between a bunch of grey stuff.

"What's wrong?" I ask quickly, because the look on his face definitely tells me something is wrong.

"Oh, nothing," he says, looking at me with a sly smile. "I have some good news, and maybe some better news."

"What does that mean?" I ask carefully. Jordan and I share a concerned look. Rafael audibly swallows.

"Well, it seems you're having twins," Dr. White says with a bright smile.

Twins. Twins? We're having twins?

"What?" Jordan breathes out, clamping my hand tighter.

"That's right, dear. There are two babies. Right here." He points to the screen, tapping one of the black blobs with a grey bean inside. "This is Baby A." He moves to the other black blob and bean on the side of it. "And Baby B."

"Twins?" I say.

"Twins," Dr. White says with a firm nod of his head. "I'm certain."

"Is that the good news or the better news?" Rafael asks with a trembling voice. Jesus. I hadn't thought about how he's reacting to this. I'm so shocked by all of this I can barely think for myself.

"They're both healthy. You decide which is the good news and which is the better." He smiles at us knowingly. "I have to move this screen for a moment to do some measurements."

He spends what feels like forever clicking and making circles and ovals on the screens and putting numbers inside them. After he does this to both of them side by side, he zooms into Baby A, repeats everything, moves to Baby B and does it again.

When he's done, he removes the doppler, hands Jordan some tissues to wipe up, shuts the machine off, and pulls something from below the screen. He goes to the side of the bed, and hands it to Jordan. They're pictures. Screenshots of the babies from the screen. Like flimsy polaroids. Jordan releases my hand and takes them with a smile, her eyes unable to leave the black and white blobs.

"I've labeled them for you. According to this, it looks like you're right around seven weeks, which would put a single birth at a due date of…" He picks up a thick, circular piece of paper from beside the sonogram machine, and slides the circle around. "February 25. But, since most twins are delivered around the 36 week mark, you can assume you'll have January babies. As long as we keep them in there until at least thirty-two weeks, so after the new year, I'll be happy."

"And the test?" Rafael asks.

Ah, yes. The test. I bet Rafael is freaking out right now. Knowing there isn't one baby, but two. I look at him, but he looks fine. I don't believe it for a second.

"We can do it now. It's a simple blood test. I'll need a sample from the mother and whoever is a potential father."

"That'll be the two of us," I add.

He smiles kindly and nods once. Jordan's cheeks flame pink, and I lean over to kiss her cheek.

"What about the sex?" Jordan asks.

"Around twenty weeks," Dr. White explains as he moves to the items on the table he'll need to draw blood. He goes to Jordan first and I help her sit up, making sure she's okay before turning to Rafael.

"You good?" I ask softly.

He nods, but there's a blank look in his eye that tells me he isn't so sure. I step closer, keeping my voice low.

"It's okay if you're not. You can tell me."

He nods again and brings his gaze to mine. He smiles, but it's a nervous smile. "I'm good."

Still don't quite believe it, but I'll take it.

When Dr. White is done getting Jordan's blood, he draws blood from both me and Rafael, and he leaves.

"Two babies," Jordan breathes out, staring at the photos again. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, and I move closer to look at them. I can't believe I'm looking at a photo of my babies. Of little humans growing inside my wife.

"Two babies," Rafael adds, leaning on the bed beside her. He looks down at the photos, and his expression is still unreadable. I'm worried about him, but I can't hide my immense joy over knowing I am going to be a father.

For the first time, this information really sinks in. I'm going to be a father.

I grasp Jordan's chin and kiss her hard. So damn hard.

"Thank you, angel. Thank you for making me a father," I whisper against her lips.

She chokes out a laugh, bunching her hands in my shirt.

"Two babies," she repeats, and this time I laugh.

Two fucking babies.