Bianca comes out from the bathroom and returns to the seat beside me. “How far along are you?”
Her mouth falls open, “I’m not sure. Eight weeks maybe. I haven’t gone to the doctor yet.”
“When did you find out?”
She looks at me, “Last night. There was a small store next to the hotel, so I grabbed a few tests. Are you going to ask me who the father is next?” She laughs at the end, brushing her hand through her long, magenta hair.
“Stefan Dalca is the father.” I say it like a statement, though I’m not certain so it’s a question.
She scoffs, punching me in the shoulder. “You were the fucker who had her following me.”
“You spotted her?”
“She’s Beretta Bosco. How could I not? Nosey prick.”
“I told you I was going to have you, Bianca, and I intend on having you. I’m not a man who bluffs.”
“Even now, you’re so set on it?” She asks, glancing down to her hands that’re now shaking.
“I’m also the type of man who’s firm in my decisions. Plus, you’ve found a way to chip at the edges a bit, breaking through a defense system most haven’t ever been able to.” I admit, reaching out. I place my hand between our legs, waiting to see if she’ll take the olive branch. She stares at my hand for a moment, ultimately lacing her fingers through my own and leans in against me. “This is so fucking messy.”
“I’m certain that’s the most drastic understatement of the century.”
“I’m going to need time to think,” She murmurs quietly, lifting her head up to look into my eyes.
It’s understandable. I’ve made things incredibly hard for her, and this baby only complicate things more. “Try not to take too long, love. I’d hate for you to waste your time with a dying weed when you could have a rose.” I might be partly speaking in metaphors, but Bianca is sure to understand me. She’s a smart woman.
Now I wait and hope she chooses me.
Chapter Eighteen
Bianca
Dropping my keys on the counter in my kitchen, I sigh, relieved to be back here. It might sound weird, only being away for a day . . . but as soon as I arrived in Las Vegas I felt odd.
Not only did it feel wrong going with Mircea, but I felt like I was betraying Stefan even more. Ironic how a trip that was supposed to make me relax a little only ended up making everything worse.
Stefan Dalca has been in my life for years, and I fucked shit up with him. Why? Because new blood came into the picture? Because I wanted to see what it was like to be with another man? Or is it simply because Mircea has been chipping away at me like I have to him? Maybe I’ll never know. All that matters now is making things right.
Fuck. If only it were easy. One thing I’ve learned in this life is how it isn’t easy. Life is fucking hard, the chew you up and spit you out kind of thing.
How am I supposed to make things right with Stefan?
I could grovel, beg for forgiveness. Maybe I’ll drop to my hands and knees, vowing to do whatever he wants. I love him too much to lose him.
Wait. Oh my God. I love Stefan Dalca.
I love him and I’ve never even fucking told him!
We’ve been sneaking around for so long that I don’t even think I’ve considered coming out into the public’s view. At first I was worried about the age gap between us, he is two decades my senior. But you’d never know that in bed. I don’t want to hold us back anymore. He told me he would’ve married me if I wanted it, and I believe him. I have no doubts in my mind that Stefan loves me, and now it’s time I tell him how I feel . . . even if I’m more terrified than I’ve been in my entire life.
When it comes down to it, the reason I’m afraid is because one day I’ll be named queen. And when that day comes, I don’t know if I’ll be ready for it. My mother has been training me for it my entire life, and so has my father . . . yet I expect some sort of push back from the Clans. They all know who my biological father is, and I expect a riot to happen, one where they’ll plead with my parents to have Ysenia take the Clans opposed to me. The only person who knows about my biggest fear is the man I’ve hurt more than I should’ve.
I can’t keep doing this.
My small crossbody bag still hangs over my shoulder and I pick up my keys. I need to go. I can’t stay here. Pushing through the door of my apartment, I run down the hallway until I’m at the elevator. Waiting for it feels like watching the hands of a clock moving— slow and yet so agonizing.
The next ten minutes passes by incredibly fast. I’ve run through the streets of New York City as a quick storm comes moving in. What starts out as a slow drizzle turns into a torrential downpour, soaking every bit of me. I just hope my phone is safe in my purse.
I walk to the entrance to Stefan’s building and Jacob, the doorman opens it immediately as he sees me. “Miss Bianca, lord. I can’t believe you got caught in that. Do you want a towel?”
He’s always been so kind to me, and I’m not even one of the residents here. I shake my head, “No, I’m okay. I just need to get up to Stefan’s floor.”
Jacob nods, holding the door open for me. “Sure, you know the way. It’s nice to see you.”
“You too!” I say, jogging over to the elevator.
Stefan’s neighbors give me crass stares when they see me, but I don’t give a fuck. Even bitching
