Chapter 2

I didn't sleep. I sat on my kitchen floor until sunrise, a kitchen knife beside me, reading that message over and over. How did she know? I'd run the test myself. In my own clinic. After hours. Nobody else had touched those results. Unless somebody inside the Valenti house belonged to her. At 8 AM, Rocco knocked. Six-foot-four of scar tissue and loyalty, the closest thing I had to a friend in this family. "Boss wants you at the estate." "Tell the boss to go to hell." "He's not asking, Doc." Rocco's jaw tightened. "And I think you should see what she's done." The Valenti estate had been my home for five years. The east wing. The master suite. The bed where Matteo used to pull me against his chest and mutter in Italian until he fell asleep. My belongings were in cardboard boxes. Stacked by the servants' entrance. Next to the trash bins. My medical books. My mother's rosary. The silk robe he'd bought me in Florence. "She had the maids pack it at six," Rocco muttered. "I tried to stop them." "It's fine." My voice was ice. "It's just stuff." Upstairs, the door to the master suite stood open. Katya lounged on MY side of the bed in a white robe, sipping espresso. "Ah. The doctor." She smiled. "Matteo said you'd come." "Where is he?" "Right here." Matteo walked out of the bathroom, buttoning his shirt. Hair damp. He'd showered in the room where he used to shower with me. He didn't even flinch. "Ava. Good." He fastened his cufflinks—the gold ones I'd given him last Christmas. "Katya needs a full medical workup before the wedding. Bloodwork. Fertility screening. You'll handle it personally." I stared at him. "You want me to check if your fiancée can give you a baby." "The Volkovs want an heir within a year. So do I." He said it like he was ordering dinner. "You're the best doctor I have." Katya laughed softly into her cup. My hand drifted to my stomach before I could stop it. I pulled it away. Tell him. Tell him right now. The words were on my tongue. You already have an heir. She's growing inside me. "And what about bastards?" I heard myself ask. "What does the great Matteo Valenti do if some other woman gets pregnant?" His eyes went flat and cold. "Any child that isn't Katya's is a bastard. And bastards in this family don't live long enough to inherit anything." He picked up his watch. "Why? Something you want to tell me?" The room went silent. Katya watched me over her cup. Waiting. "No," I said. "Nothing." "Good. Her appointment is at two." He walked out. The second the door closed, Katya set down her espresso and crossed the room. She was smaller than me. It didn't matter. She had a smile like a razor. "You're wondering how I know." She leaned close. "Your lab tech has a gambling problem. Very cheap to buy." "Stay away from me." "You stay away from HIM." She touched my stomach with one manicured fingertip. I slapped her hand away. "If that thing survives, it's a claim on my husband's empire. So here's what happens. You get rid of it quietly. Or I do it loudly." "Touch me again and I'll show you exactly how much a surgeon knows about where to cut." "AVA!" Matteo stood in the doorway. He hadn't left. He'd come back for his phone. He'd heard only my last sentence. In three strides he had my arm, dragging me into the hallway, slamming me against the wall. "You threaten her again, and I will forget every night you ever spent in my bed." "She threatened ME first—" "She's my FIANCÉE. You're staff." His grip tightened. "Remember the difference." He let go. I slid down the wall. "Oh—and your brother," he said over his shoulder. "Leo's staying with my men until after the wedding. Insurance. In case you get any ideas about running." He knew. He knew I was planning to leave. And now he had the one person I'd never leave behind. Six days left.