The concern in her voice breaks something inside me. Tears spring to my eyes again as I struggle to find the words. "It’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment. Then Roisin says, "Get your skinny ass over here. I’ll be up by the time you get here." The way the Irish in her voice has become so pronounced, I know she means business. It loosens everything inside me, and relief washes over me. "Are you sure? This can wait until…"
"Don’t keep me waiting," she interrupts, already sounding like her usual brash, bouncy self. “I’ll be more pissed if you’ve woken me for nothing.”
“I’ll be there,” I whisper, my knees weak with gratitude. I truly won the friend lottery when I found Roisin.
I hang up and quickly throw on some clothes, not bothering with makeup. My hands shake as I grab my keys and purse and hurry to my car. I know there’s a tracker on it which will telegraph my whereabouts to Niko or his men. Just like one of them will silently follow me, even though I never inform anyone. But it’s not like this is an unusual trip, and they keep their distance, at least. I’d hate having to live with a damn bodyguard constantly by my side. I have little enough freedom. That would be the last straw.
The early morning streets are quiet as I drive to Roisin's place. My mind races, rehearsing how to tell her about the pregnancy, Niko's reaction, my fears. By the time I pull up to her house, my stomach is in knots.
Roisin opens the door before I can knock, her red hair a wild tangle around her face. She takes one look at me and pulls me into a fierce hug. "Janey Mack, you look like shite, and you haven’t slapped on the war paint, so I know it’s bad," she mutters, her accent thick with concern as she glares at my unusually makeup free face. "Come on in before you fall over."
She leads me to the kitchen, where the smell of coffee makes my stomach lurch again, even though I’ve yet to experience any serious bouts of morning sickness. Roisin notices my grimace and raises an eyebrow. "Spill it, girl. What's going on?"
I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted. "I'm pregnant," I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "And Niko, he…” I swallow, painfully. “He doesn't want it."
Roisin's eyes widen, a mix of shock and concern flashing across her face. She pulls up a chair next to me, reaching out to grasp my hand. "Oh, Lyah," she breathes. "When did you find out?"
"Yesterday," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I told Niko last night when he finally came home, and he just... he said it can't happen. That our life isn't set up for a child."
Roisin's grip on my hand tightens, her brow furrowing. "Bastard," she mutters under her breath. "Did he say anything else? What about this morning?"
I shake my head, fighting back tears. "He left after I told him and didn't come back. I don't know where he is now."
Roisin lets out a string of colorful Irish curses that would make a sailor blush. "Right, well, fuck him then. What do you want, Lyah? Because that's what matters here."
The question catches me off guard, since I’m not used to ever being asked. But I know what I want. I’ve never been more certain.
"I..." My voice falters. "I want this baby. I know it's crazy to outright challenge Niko’s decision, but I really want this child."
Roisin nods, a fierce look in her eyes. "Then that's what matters. Niko can go fuck himself if he doesn't like it."
Her words spark a flicker of strength in my chest, but it fizzles out as quickly as it’s borne. "You know it’s not that simple, Roisin.”
"You're not alone," Roisin says firmly. "You've got me, and Dominic. He’s waaay protective now he’s a father. We can help you figure this out."
I shake my head, panic rising. "I can't ask you to do that. Niko would never allow it. He'd see it as a betrayal, especially with Dominic being... who he is."
Dominic is a capo with La Cosa Nostra. And Roisin is the sister of the men who run the Irish mafia. Her twin brothers, Callum and Ciaran, damn near killed Dominic when they found out about him and Roisin, but lucky for her, Mika Rossi, the heir to the Italian throne, convinced them to view their union as an alliance. It’s worked for them, so far, but there’s still a healthy dose of suspicion all around. We all represent different organized crime families, and most of the time they view each other with a healthy dose of respect, unwilling to go to war. But even that’s an homage to the old adage, ‘keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’ Sometimes there’s little certainty which side of the fence the opposing syndicates fall.
Roisin's eyes narrow. "Niko doesn't own you, Lyah. You're not his property."
She says that, but we both know the truth. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "You know that's not true, Roisin. In his world, I am his property. We both know how this works."
Roisin's jaw clenches, but she doesn't argue. She knows the reality of our situation as well as I do. "Okay, so what's your plan then? You can't just let him bully you into getting rid of the baby if that's not what you want."
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall again. "I don't know. I don't have a plan. I just... I need time to think, to figure out how to approach this with Niko."
Roisin nods, her expression softening. "Alright, love. Why don't you stay here for a few days? Give yourself some space to clear your head. I'll tell Niko you're helping me with the baby if he asks."
The offer is tempting, but fear grips me. "I can't, Roisin. He'll know. He always knows."
"Then we'll tell him the truth. That you needed some girl time after finding out you're pregnant. It's not a lie, and it's perfectly reasonable." Roisin's tone is firm, brooking no argument.
I hesitate, torn between the desire for a safe haven and the fear of Niko's reaction. But Roisin's determined expression and the thought of facing our empty house alone makes the decision for me.
"Okay," I whisper, nodding slowly. "Just for a couple of days."
