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“Nice try!” Pippa says, walking into the room, holding a sleeping Alessia in her arms. “We want all the details.”

The women stare at me hungrily, waiting for me to feed them juicy gossip.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say slowly before clearing my throat. “You all know about my father. I’m pretty much homeless, poor, and possibly in legal trouble. Julian is helping me so I’m not sleeping on the street. ’Tis all.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but Julian doesn’t justhelp someone out,” Gigi states matter-of-factly. “None of the men in our world do. There’s always a price for something.”

My mouth turns dry.

I know I can trust Pippa, but I don’t know the others as well.

Gigi has unwavering loyalty to Antonio, so I can’t see her betraying me. If anyone wanted to cross me, it’d be Neomi or her sisters.

A few years ago, Vincent Lombardi called a hit on Benny. The bullet hit Neomi instead, and the Cavallaros then joined the war against the Lombardis.

I once heard that unlike many other Mafia bosses, Severino never got angry with his wife when she birthed daughters. Daughters gave him contracts, which gave him power, and he already had an heir to the throne. That was, until his son was murdered a few years ago. Now, Severino has no one to take over his throne, and the Cavallaro name might die with him.

Chills vibrate through my body.

That must be how Julian feels.

While Pippa and Damien have Alessia, there’s no Bellini boy to continue their name through generations.

What if I get pregnant and have a girl?

Will we keep trying until I have a boy?

There was nothing regarding the sex of the baby in the contract.

Bria snapping her fingers in my face breaks me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Genesis!”

“Shoot, sorry.” I brush my fingers through my hair, suddenly feeling a sense of sadness. “We just … a baby.”

Yes, while unable to come up with an explanation, I just said it with one word.

“Baby?” Pippa gasps. “You’re pregnant?” She glances around at everyone. “Someone grab me my phone, so I can tell Damien he’s about to be an uncle!”

“Whoa!” I quickly shout. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Then, spill, or I’m organizing a meeting to plan a baby shower,” Gigi says.

I snatch a Twizzlers from the package beside me. “I’m not pregnant …yet.”

If anyone can understand the logic behind this insanity, it’ll be these ladies.

Marriage contracts are their way of life.

And IthinkI can trust them.

“We signed a contract,” I add, biting off the edge of the Twizzler.

“A marriage one?” Natalia asks, giving me her full attention.

I shake my head. “A baby one.”

Julian and I discussed marriage, but it wasn’t the sole purpose of the contract.

It was all about a baby.