It had been weeks already since I ran—escaped Nik’s mansion—and ever since then, he’d haunted my dreams, threatening to come get me. Sleeping at night was almost impossible. I saw him each time I closed my eyes. I heard the sound of his eerie voice whispering the consequences of my defiance.
I was home with my family, and Father was incredibly proud of how I managed to escape my captor all on my own. I should feel some sense of relief—satisfaction and maybe even safety. But instead, I felt…empty. Why was there a void in my stomach, a pit that nothing seemed to fill? I thought that Nik was the problem and that running away from him would somehow make me feel like myself again.
But what did it mean to be me? What did it mean to be Alessia Romano? Was there really anything interesting about me outside the privilege of my last name? Did I even have a life of my own? Didn’t I just escape a prison only to return to another one? What exactly was the difference between being here and being at Nik’s mansion, other than being surrounded by family?
It was a tangled mess in my head, and all of my thoughts were jumbled together. I’d given it a lot of thought since my return, and honestly, I was so confused because nothing seemed to make sense to me anymore. While trapped in Nik’s mansion, my biggest dream was to find a way out. I thought that if I were free of him, everything would somehow return to normal. But now that I had what I craved for—freedom—it was like nothing had changed.
I was back to my old life, boring and completely uninteresting. After my return, Dad was excited at first, but his joy was short-lived, replaced by anger and resentment. His hatred for Nik Tarasov only waxed stronger, and instead of paying attention to his daughter, he buried himself in work. He’d been cooking up means to get back at Nik, plotting his downfall and making plans to destroy him.
My father was more concerned about his revenge than he was about me, and that didn’t surprise me at all. I just thought that what happened to me would have somehow made him understand the importance of family—the relevance of quality time and bonding. The circumstances behind my kidnapping had opened my eyes to how quickly life moved past us, how suddenly things happened even in the most unlikely of situations.
“As precious as life is, it is unpredictable. One minute you’re here, the next you’re gone.” This was one of the few statements I recalled my mother telling me as a kid. Her passing had helped me understand the meaning behind those words. But nothing was more eye-opening than my own personal experience. If Nik had wanted me dead, I’d have been dead weeks ago, gone in a flash, just like that—puff.
Dad and my brothers were so occupied with their plans to wage war against the Tarasov Bratva that they failed to see what was right in front of them—me. It was almost like I was invisible to them, like I didn’t exist, and the only thing that did was their pride and anger.
Congratulations to me. I’d successfully returned to the place where I was hardly noticed and where my opinions didn’t matter. Nik believed that I was the apple of my father’s eye, that I was his precious gem, and that was why he took me. However, I never felt like I was precious, at least not when around my father.
“Nikita Tarasov will burn for what he did,” Bruno’s voice said, cutting through my thoughts and snapping me back to reality.
I was seated at the long oak table that stretched nearly the length of the room. It was polished to a high gleam, its dark surface reflecting the soft glow of the hanging chandelier. Candles flickering in tall silver holders cast a warm light over crystal glasses and immaculate white plates. The air was filled with the delicious scent of roasted lamb and garlic, mingling with the occasional clinking of cutlery against ceramics.
Dad sat at the head of the dining table like a king, broad-shouldered and sharply dressed in a white tuxedo. He was quiet, but his presence commanded attention with a signature scowl on his face that hinted at the rage simmering beneath the surface.
“No one messes with the Romanos and lives,” Marco chipped in, his tone low and venomous. “We’ve been quiet long enough. I say we strike as soon as possible.”
Bruno turned to him. “Nik is a strategist. He’ll expect retaliation.”
“Then we hit him where he won’t see coming,” Marco insisted, his voice dripping with disdain.
Dad gestured slightly with his hand, and the room fell silent. He paused for a moment, his cold eyes shifting across his children. “That bastard made a mistake,” he said, his tone almost reflective. “He thought he could touch what belonged to me and live.” A dismissive scoff left his lips. “He’s delusional if he thinks he can get away with this.”
“He won’t. We won’t let him, Father,” Marco said, facing our Dad. “We’ll burn the ports. Cut his supply line to the east. No heroin. No weapons. Nothing.”
I sat there, straight-backed, near the middle of the table, flanked by my older brothers. I felt like an object, a tool polished and returned to the shelf rather than a rescued daughter. Outside, the winter wind breathed frost against the towering windows. But inside, the warmth was suffocating me in ways I couldn’t explain.
As the men talked, I lowered my head, fingers clenched around the stem of my glass. The food before me remained untouched, despite the sweet aroma wafting from my plate. I stared blankly into space, my family’s voices fading into the background as I pondered my next move. What they didn’t realize was that I had a bigger problem than taking revenge on the man who kidnapped me. A really big problem that would, in time, change the course of my life.
“Alessia.” Dad’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a knife, almost startling me.
I lifted my head and met his gaze, my heart slowly racing in my chest.
“You did well,” he said, acknowledging my ability to escape my captor. In his eyes was a glint of pride, and a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “You proved you’re not weak.”
“She’s a true Romano,” Bruno teased, smiling at me.
Marco extended a hand and patted my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. We all are.”
My breath hitched in my throat as their applause sank in. Would they still be proud of me if they found out what I had to do to get out of there? Would they still look at me with that look in their eyes once they found out my little secret?
I nodded, squeezing out a plastic smile despite this gnawing unease, this shallowness in my chest that I’d refused to name. My family had no idea how hard I’d been struggling since my return—struggling to push Nik to the back of my mind. His ghost still haunted me, and like a shadow in the back of my thoughts, he lingered.
He was deep in my head, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t seem to get rid of him. Nik had left a mark on my soul, a print that I couldn’t wipe off so easily. Every now and then, I’d find myself thinking about him—the way he touched me, the way his lips devoured mine with an intense fervency. The night I surrendered to Nik, I felt like a woman. I felt alive, wanted, and adored. Now, I couldn’t stop reminiscing, couldn’t stop replaying that memory over and over again.
His hold over me was so strong that more times than once, I’d had to struggle not to play with myself just by thinking about him. Was I losing my mind? Why couldn’t I get him out of my head? What exactly was wrong with me?
My hands flew to my stomach, a reflexive response to the sudden disturbance inside.
“Are you alright?” Marco asked, concerned.
“I’m fine,” came my reply, my voice faint and even. “I just, uh…I just need a minute.” The slight pause came when I rose to my feet, pushed back my chair, and rushed to my room.
I raced up the stairs, holding back the urge to vomit with a hand clasped over my mouth. Through the hallway, my heels echoed as I ran, hoping I wouldn’t puke all over the floor. I pushed my door open and hurried to the bathroom, where I dropped to my knees, the tiles cool beneath my skin. I gripped the toilet, gasping as I vomited, my stomach turning, muscles straining.
Once done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, flushed the toilet, and sat there on the floor for the next few minutes. My head was pounding like a drum, and my waist was killing me. These lapses in my health had been occurring and recurring over the past few weeks.
I knew why, and I hadn’t been sure at first until I realized that I’d missed my period.
I was pregnant.
My hands darted into my hair as I leaned against the wall, battling with my guilt, shame, and pain. My eyes misted, and I felt my tear glands charging up, but crying wouldn’t solve anything. I knew that letting him cum inside me was a bad idea, yet I let him do it anyway. Ironic how a moment of sweetness had now birthed my demise. I was in trouble, big trouble, but I was determined not to let anyone in on this little secret. No one had to know. No Romano family member was ever going to find out. Ever.
The best way to keep this hidden was to leave this house, and I had to do so as soon as possible before someone got suspicious.
I rose to my feet, headed over to the sink, and turned on the faucet. As the water rushed, I leaned in and rinsed my mouth, then washed my face before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I gripped the ceramic sink, my chest heaving with slow breaths as I thought of ways to leave my father’s house without raising suspicion.
I exhaled sharply, wiped my face with a clean white towel, and then left the bathroom. My head still hurt, and I felt so dizzy, like the world was swirling around me. Carefully, I strode over to my bed and lay on the mattress, hoping the headache would subside soon enough.
A few minutes later, I heard a knock on my door, the sudden disturbance drawing my attention toward the entrance. “Who is it?” I asked, my voice faint.
“It’s me,” Dad replied, his baritone sending tremors down my core.
My eyes widened, and I sat up immediately, wincing at the slight pang at the back of my head. “Come on in. It’s open,” I said, fingers massaging my temples.
The door creaked open, and Dad walked inside with a hand in his pocket. His gaze discreetly swept over my cozy space before settling on me. “You left the table in a hurry,” he began, eyes pinned on me. “I thought that I should check on you.”
Weird. He’d never done so before.
My brows rose just a bit, a glint of shock flickering in my gaze.
“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad,” he teased, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I didn’t say that you were,” I replied, chuckling.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, then gestured at the space beside me. “May I?”
A grin tugged at the corners of my lips. “Sure.”
With a deep sigh, he sat on the mattress, smoothing his palms over his lap. “Are you alright? You don’t look well.” He felt my forehead with his hand.
“I’m fine. It’s just….” I paused, groping for the perfect excuse. “The whole kidnapping thing is still taking a toll on me. I guess I just haven’t fully recovered.”
“I understand,” he said, holding my gaze. “You survived what most people don’t, and you came out unscathed.” His voice was filled with pride, as were his eyes. “You outsmarted Nik Tarasov, Alessia. No one has ever done that before.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.
My lips parted into a faint grin as I felt the weight of his strong hand. His words, as comforting as they should sound, only seemed to stir up my anxiety. Now wasn’t a good time to be proud of me, and that hurt like hell because I’d always craved his validation. How could I enjoy this rare moment with my father, knowing full well that I had messed up big time? Dang it.
“Dad,” I called softly, my heart hammering in my chest as I managed to meet his eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
He squinted, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Okay.”
I paused, gathering my thoughts together. “I need a break from all of this. I need to go somewhere I can…think straight.”
He stared at me in silence, his expression softening with each passing second. I thought he was going to object, but to my surprise, he didn’t. He just looked at me and asked, “Where do you have in mind?”
I felt a wind of relief blow across my face, and I didn’t realize when I heaved a sigh. The plan was to go somewhere far, for at least a year, so I could keep the pregnancy hidden. At the moment, I didn’t have any plans on what to do with the baby once it was born. However, I’d cross that bridge when I got there.
For now, I just needed to convince my father to buy into my idea.
