Page 82 of Mafia and Protector
“That sounds like your mother,” he said drily.
“I think we should invite Bella over for dinner next week. She must have settled in by now. And if she hasn’t, we can see if there’s anything we can help with. We can invite her to the Monday Post-Mortem.”
“Definitely not,” Rafael said forcefully. “Monday dinners are to talk business—she may be family, but we don’t know how much we can trust her with such matters yet.”
“We’ll invite her another night then, say Wednesday.”
“No, Jess,” he said tersely.
“Why not?” I was taken aback by his vehemence.
“I’m not sure that she likes us, and she’s prickly.”
It was clear to me that he was trying to find excuses not to invite Bella over. “If she’s prickly, it’s probably because she’s grieving,” I pointed out.
“It’s more than that. It’s just not a good idea to have her over.” It was obvious by his tone that he didn’t want to discuss it any further, and I dropped the subject.
***
That night, I found it hard to fall asleep for the first time in a long while.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened today with Bella.
Rafael wasn’t keen on Bella mixing with the family. And I knew the reason why: she was sullied, a product of rape, and thus not worthy of being a part of the Santino family.
The realization hit me hard—that Rafael saw me in exactly the same way.
I was also damaged goods; the only difference was that I could give him something, a child to be his heir, and that was why I was still here. If he didn’t need an heir, he probably wouldn’t want me here, just like he didn’t want Bella here.
Rafael had told me that he loved me, but I knew that his love would always be tainted by the knowledge that I had not been pure for him. I knew now that he would never truly love me.
Although he’d told me he’d love me, he’d probably just said that because he thought it was part of what he should say as a husband. Just like he’d said to me at the start of our marriage that looking after me was part of “his job” as my husband. Those were the exact words he’d used.
The only reason he’d married me was because, as a Made Man, he had to marry and produce heirs. Marrying me was part of his job, being my husband was part of his job, and saying he loved me was part of his job.
To love someone, and to know they could never feel the same way about you, was like a punch to the gut—the thought knocked the breath out of me and left a heavy pain in my stomach.
There would always be someone like Bella, or mentions of Emanuel, or something else to remind Rafael of my past. My shame was inescapable.
I knew now, beyond doubt, that I would have to look to our baby for the absolute love I craved.
As I tried to fall asleep, I let myself think about the small life growing inside me, and I was glad that I at least had this baby to look forward to.
***
Two days later, we sat in the consultation room of Dr. Chiara Azzaro. She was the doctor who delivered most of the Società’s babies.
I was glad to have the appointment today to take my mind off my relationship with Rafael.
“Morning sickness is common among pregnant women, as you will know,” the doctor explained. “When it becomes excessive, however, it is calledhyperemesis gravidarum.”
“How serious is that?” interrupted Rafael tersely.
“Please don’t be alarmed at my use of the medical terminology for Jessica’s condition. We do need to exercise caution, however, and check that the baby is growing okay and that Jessica isn’t getting dehydrated.”
“So, the baby’s growth can be affected?” questioned Rafael, a deep frown marring his forehead.
I put my hand on top of Rafael’s. “If you let the doctor speak, I think she was just getting to that.” Rafael was in his Made Man mode, used to issuing dictates and impatient to get answers. However, he needed to step back for a moment and let the doctor do her job, and that included allowing her to explain what was going on.