Sold To Mr. Milano - Daniella Wright Page 0,60

growing tired from walking from one end of the house to the other, jumping at every sound - thinking it might be him returning home. But I couldn’t manage to stay still either. I laughed every so often at how ironic it was for me to be pregnant after everything. I went into my adventure pretending to be so, and it ended with me actually being with child. If I didn’t tell my father about my condition, I’d likely have to run right back to the black market...only this time I wouldn’t be faking anything.

Finally, I heard his arrival outside. It was the first time I had been able to stand still for hours, and it was only because I was frozen in fear of what I knew I had to do when he walked through that door. I grabbed the tray of coffee and pastries I had been keeping warm for him. He would come in, and I would lead him to sit by the fire while I served him a snack and a drink. Then, once we were comfortable, I would spit it all out.

The door opened, and I braced myself with a deep breath. My father came shuffling in, and I was so nervous, I barely paid any attention to how he left the door open behind him. I barely paid any attention to him at all. I sang out a hello and fired off questions about how his trip went. I didn’t even hear his replies. It seemed like he didn’t reply at all, but I could have just been imagining it. I was too busy rushing him over to sit down and bringing in the tray, just as I had planned. It was now or never.

It all happened so fast that my eyes took it in faster than my brain could process it. I sat across from him and parted my lips to speak, but before I could get out a single word I saw a second figure emerge from the front door. I looked up to see a familiar face, but I was so shocked I couldn’t believe it was him at first.

“Alberto,” I murmured breathlessly.

It was only then that I realized my father had been fighting me on sitting down the whole time. I just hadn’t taken no for an answer. But now that I was completely paralyzed, he stood up and told us he would leave us alone to talk.

“What are you doing here!?” I stared back at him like a deer in headlights. “You came with my father?”

He nodded and took the seat I had forced my father into moments ago. “It is good to see you, Alicia.”

Something slipped from my mouth, but I didn’t know if they were actually words or just muffled breaths of nonsense syllables. I wanted to say it was good to see him too, but was it?

“How have you been?” he asked casually as if this was all so ordinary. “Have you been enjoying your time back home?”

I grew angry with him, as I usually did. I hadn’t heard a word from him since he left me at my father’s gate, and now weeks later he came strolling in like it was nothing. As if it wasn’t the most unexpected thing in the world for Alberto Milano to walk into our home, escorted by Don Martino himself. And my father left us alone at that! What the hell was happening?

He looked calm and collected - his default mannerisms. He even reached for one of the pastries and poured himself a cup of coffee. But I finally pulled myself together enough to fly to my feet and yank the tray right out from under him.

“These were for my father!” I hissed. “I obviously wasn’t expecting to see you here, and I don’t have the faintest clue of what you could possibly want...so I won’t be showing you any hospitality.”

I stormed off to the kitchen and slammed the tray into the sink hard enough to shatter one of the little glass mugs. By the time I turned around, Alberto was standing there. He didn’t look so calm anymore, but he did look dead serious. There was a light in his eyes I had never seen before.

“You really don’t have any idea of what I could possibly want?” He stared at me intently with a look that took my breath away.

My heart and my brain were at war at that moment. Of course, I could think of a few