Page 64 of Beauty and the Daddy

So yeah. Secret it is.

"Miss Belle?" the receptionist calls.

The doctor's a sweetheart, the kind that believes all news has to be good.

"Everything looks perfect, Belle," she says once she's all done. "The baby is developing normally."

All that's a blessing, yes. The ultrasound made this shit as real as it gets. On one hand, I breathe with relief at knowing the baby's okay. On the other? I cower in fear because I only have a few months before this secret starts screaming itself at the world.

"And the nausea?"

I've got plenty of time to think about what happens next. For now, I need to know what to look out for.

"Perfectly normal. It should ease up by the second trimester, but in the meantime, try eating small meals throughout the day. And start these prenatal vitamins immediately."

She hands me a prescription and a stack of pamphlets with titles like "Your First Trimester" and "Preparing for Parenthood."

I want to laugh.

How about a pamphlet called "So You're Having a Mafia Don's Baby"?

I thank her, pay in cash, and slip out, clutching my paper bag of secrets. I should tell Luca. I know I should. But every time I think about it, my heart nearly gives out.

Would Luca think I did this on purpose? A classic trap to cement my place in his world? Would he believe me if I told him it was an accident?

I don't know, and that's the problem.

By the timeI get back to the house, I've convinced myself keeping quiet is the right move. Just until I figure things out. Just until I'm sure.

But something's off when I walk in. Declan is in the living room, nursing a scotch like the day's done him wrong. His eyes track me as I enter, lingering on the shopping bags I picked up as cover.

"Productive day?"

"Just the usual retail therapy." I shrug. "A girl's gotta have hobbies and Dad had to get back to work."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Funny. Sofia mentioned you weren't feeling well lately."

My heart stutters. "Just jet lag."

"Still?"

"What can I say? I'm a delicate flower."

Declan swirls his drink. "My brother cares for you, Belle. It would be a shame if anything were... complicating things."

The threat is barely veiled. I know what he's doing—fishing for information.

"Nothing's complicated except your relationship with direct questions, Declan," I shoot back, heading for the stairs. "If you want to know something, just ask."

His chuckle follows me up. "Where's the fun in that?"

For the next few days,I feel his eyes everywhere. At dinner. In the hallway. I start being more careful—checking rooms before entering, watching what I say, keeping my prenatal vitamins hidden in an empty supplement bottle in my bathroom.

Each morning, I swallow the prenatals with a gulp of water, side-eyeing the door like I'm committing a crime.

I'm becoming paranoid, jumping at shadows, but I'm not imagining the way Declan watches me. There's something predatory in his gaze, like he's waiting for me to make a mistake.

It's like heknows.