Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,38
at myself in the mirror, pulling up my oversized t-shirt to examine my body.
I look the same as ever. No bulge on my belly. No change in my shape.
Even my breasts look the same. I squeeze them in my hands to see if they feel any fuller. They seem normal—though a little sore.
It hasn’t been ninety seconds yet. I don’t care. I snatch up the stick, to prove to myself that this whole thing is ridiculous.
I see one vertical pink line. Negative.
Then, right before my eyes, a second horizontal line begins to rise into existence. Like invisible ink held up to the light, it blooms out of pure white cotton, growing thicker and darker by the moment.
The two pink lines form a cross. A plus sign. Positive.
The test falls from my numb fingers into the sink.
Serwa hears it fall. She comes to the doorway.
Her big dark eyes look down at the test, then up to my face. “What are you going to do?” she says.
I shake my head, silently. I have no idea.
“We have to tell Mama,” Serwa says.
“No!” I say, a little too sharply.
If we tell Mama, she’ll tell Tata. And he’ll be furious. I can’t even imagine that level of anger.
No, there’s only one person I want to turn to right now: Dante.
“You have to get my phone,” I beg Serwa. “I have to talk to him.”
She presses her lips together, nervously. “I know where it is,” she says.
Serwa goes off to steal back my phone. As soon as I’m alone in my room, reality comes crashing down on me.
Pregnant. I’m pregnant. Right this moment, there’s a bundle of cells growing and dividing inside of me.
It seems impossible, and yet it’s the most real and immediate thing in the world.
The walls of my bedroom seem to rush toward me like a collapsing box and then speed away again. I sink down to the carpet, sweating and shaking. I’m breathing too hard, too fast. My heart is seizing up in my chest. I think I might be dying . . .
What am I going to do?
What am I going to do?
What am I going to do?
“Simone!” Serwa cries, dropping down next to me. She puts her arm around my shoulders, pulling my head against her chest.
I’m crying again. My reserve of tears has replenished enough for my face to be soaking wet once more.
Serwa pushes the phone into my hand. The screen is cracked. I don’t know if my father dropped it or threw it in anger.
Luckily, it still switches on. I see fifty-seven missed calls and a dozen messages from Dante.
I was planning to call him right now, but I’m crying too hard.
I type a message instead:
I have to talk to you. Come meet me at midnight, at the gazebo in the park.
He’ll know the one I mean. We’ve gone for walks together in Lincoln Park. We sat in that gazebo and kissed and talked for hours.
It’s only a moment until Dante replies, as if he’d been holding his phone in his hand, staring at the screen.
Simone! I tried to call you. I tried to come see you.
I know, I reply.
Are you alright?
My hands are shaking so hard I can hardly type.
Yes. Come to the gazebo. Midnight. It’s important. I have to see you.
I’ll be there, he says. I promise.
I hand the phone back to Serwa, so she can return it to its hiding place, wherever my father had it stashed away.
“How are you going to get out?” Serwa asks me.
“I need your help,” I tell her.
16
Dante
I’m limp with relief after finally hearing from Simone.
I was going insane with her locked up in that house. I had half a mind to take Nero, Seb, and six of our men, and storm the castle. The only reason I didn’t is because I couldn’t risk anyone getting hurt. It is Simone’s family keeping her hostage, after all.
Still, I hardly feel any better after reading her messages. She sounds awful—keyed up about something.
I want to see her now. I don’t want to wait until midnight.
The relief is already leeching away, replaced with dread.
She said she has to talk to me.
Is she going to tell me she can’t see me anymore?
Her father’s had an entire week to work on her. To guilt and shame her, and prey on her fears. I’m sure he’s found out everything he can about me. I’m sure he’s told her all my darkest secrets, and worse. He might have told her anything, true or untrue.