Page 37 of Mafia Pregnancy

Radmir

S aturday morning, I’m already dressed and in my office by seven. I retrieve the small plastic bag from my desk drawer, holding it up to examine the single dark hair I managed to obtain last night during our trip to the restaurant bathroom.

Leo had protested with a small “ouch” when I plucked it, his trusting eyes looking up at me with mild confusion.

“Sorry, buddy,” I’d told him, smoothing down the spot where I’d taken the hair. “Just getting a soap bubble out of your hair. I was being too thorough.”

That explanation had satisfied him completely, and he’d gone back to chattering about dinosaurs while I sealed his hair in the bag with hands that weren’t quite steady. My son. The thought still sends something powerful through my chest every time I consider it.

I pick up my phone and dial Andrei’s number, knowing he’ll answer despite the early hour.

“Sir?”

“I need you to come to my office. I have something that requires your personal attention.” I hold the bag up to the light again, studying the evidence that will confirm what I already know with absolute certainty.

“On my way.”

Thirty minutes later, Andrei appears in my office, clearly having taken time to fully dress before walking here from his small house across the property. I hand him the sealed plastic bag.

“That hair sample needs to be processed for DNA comparison with my own profile.” I hand him a tube in another bag with a cheek swab of my saliva in it before settling back in my chair, watching his expression remain professionally neutral.

“As fast as possible. Donate whatever it takes to expedite the process, but I want answers within days, not weeks.”

He examines the bags briefly before tucking them into his jacket pocket. “The lab I use for sensitive matters can have preliminary results within forty-eight hours if we pay for priority processing. This is about the boy?”

“This is confirmation of what we both already know.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the desk. “I want it documented officially.”

“Understood. I’ll handle the arrangements immediately.” He pulls out his phone, then pauses. “There’s something else you need to know about yesterday.”

The tone in his voice puts me immediately on alert. “What happened?”

“The security team following Ms. Arden reported she visited a gynecologist’s office Friday afternoon and left the clinic holding a white envelope.” He meets my eyes directly. “Medical results, most likely?”

The information settles into my mind with devastating clarity.

A gynecologist appointment could mean an annual checkup, but I’m certain that isn’t it.

She emerged with an envelope containing some kind of results, and my mind fills in the blanks after seconds of contemplation.

I think about how she’s been wearing a loose cardigan over her uniform, the careful way she touches her stomach almost absently, and how much lusher she was when we had sex again recently.

Something was different, but I didn’t realize what then.

I had no idea what the signs were, but it’s obvious in retrospect.

She’s pregnant. Again.

“Do you want me to obtain her medical records from the clinic?” Andrei asks quietly.

I consider this for a long moment, weighing the invasion of privacy against my need to know what she’s keeping from me.

If Danielle is carrying my child, I have a right to that information.

If she’s pregnant with someone else’s baby, I need to understand what that means for our situation with Leo.

“Yes.” The word comes out harder than I intended.

“Get the records. I need to know what we’re dealing with. ”

He nods and pulls out his phone again. “Annie? I need you to prioritize a request immediately. Have your hacker get medical records from Pacific Women’s Health for Danielle Arden, date of service yesterday afternoon.”

I listen to him coordinate the request easily, but my mind is elsewhere.

The possibility that Danielle is pregnant with my second child changes everything about how I approach this situation.

It means she’s been keeping another massive secret while I’ve been trying to figure out how to be a father to Leo.

“Both requests will be handled with highest priority,” Andrei says as he ends the call. “Annie’s guy should have medical records available within a few hours, and I’ll drop the samples for the DNA tests. The tech there said he can have preliminary results by Monday morning.”

“Good.” I stand and walk to the window, processing potentially going from childless to having two children in the span of a single weekend. “Have you given any thought to how we transition Leo into my life without traumatizing him and keeping him safe?”

“That depends largely on how cooperative his mother chooses to be.” Andrei joins me at the window, both of us looking out at the grounds where children might someday play.

“If she fights you legally, it becomes complicated. If she works with you to establish a relationship, it can be gradual and natural.”

The conversation with Danielle last night suggests she understands fighting me isn’t an option, but understanding and accepting are different things. She’s terrified of my world, rightfully so after Volkov’s attack, and now she might be protecting two children instead of one.

“I’m going to spend time with them tonight.” I turn back to my desk, already planning how to approach the evening. “Nothing formal or threatening. Just dinner and time with Leo so he starts getting comfortable with me being around.”

“That’s wise. Children adapt to new situations better when they don’t feel pressured or rushed.” Andrei pauses at the door. “What about Ms. Arden? How do you plan to handle her concerns about safety?”

It’s a fair question. Danielle’s fears about my world aren’t irrational, and becoming a father doesn’t automatically make me better at protecting the people I care about. If anything, it makes me more vulnerable, giving my enemies additional targets to exploit.

“I’ll figure it out.” I meet his gaze. “The alternative isn’t acceptable.”

After he leaves, I spend the morning trying to focus on business matters, but concentration proves impossible.

The DNA test is a formality, but the medical records from Danielle’s appointment could change everything.

If she’s pregnant, I need to know how far along she is, whether the timing aligns with our encounters, and most importantly, whether she was planning to tell me or keep this secret too.

By afternoon, I can’t stand waiting any longer. Danielle said she needed time to think, but patience has never been my strongest quality when it comes to things that matter. I want to see Leo again, to start building the relationship we should have had from the beginning.

I stop by my favorite Italian restaurant and order enough food for three people, then drive to Danielle’s apartment complex with nervous energy I haven’t felt in years.

This is uncharted territory for me, showing up at someone’s home with takeout, hoping to be welcomed into an evening routine I’ve never been part of before.

I climb the stairs to her second-floor apartment and knock softly, not wanting to startle her but knowing she’s probably expecting this visit after our conversation last night.

She opens the door wearing jeans and a soft sweater that emphasizes her natural beauty in ways her work uniform never could. There’s wariness in her expression, but not surprise. “Radmir.” She steps back to let me in. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I brought dinner.” I hold up the bags of food, noting how her apartment smells like home in ways my estate never has. “I hope Italian is all right.”

“You probably remember Leo loves spaghetti.” She closes the door behind me and takes one of the bags. “I’ll grab plates and set the table. Leo? Mr. Radmir is here with dinner,” she calls. “Pasta.”

The sound of running feet precedes Leo’s appearance around the corner, his face lighting up when he sees me. “Mr. Radmir, did you bring the kind of pasta with the really long noodles?”

“I brought three different kinds, just to be safe.” I crouch down to his level, struck again by how much he resembles me at that age.

It makes me think of the way Danielle stared at the family photo in my hallway.

She must have been noting the resemblance too.

“How was your day? Did you find any caterpillars?”

“We didn’t go to the park because Mama was tired, but I practiced writing my letters, and I drew you a picture.

” He runs to the coffee table and retrieves a piece of construction paper covered in crayon marks.

“See? It’s you and me and Mama eating pizza.

I didn’t know how to spell Radmir, but I ‘membered how to spell Vetrov like you showed me.”

The drawing shows three stick figures sitting at a table, with the tallest one labeled “Mr. Vetrov” in careful preschool handwriting.

The innocent inclusion of me in his family portrait makes my chest constrict.

I have to cough before I can speak. “This is incredible, Leo. You’re a very talented artist.” I study the picture with the seriousness it deserves. “Can I keep this?”

“Really? You want to keep my drawing?”

“I’d be honored to keep it. I’ll put it somewhere special so I can look at it every day.” His delighted smile makes the complicated emotions of this situation worth navigating.

Dinner passes peacefully, with Leo entertaining us with stories about his day and questions about everything from dinosaurs to why grown-ups drink coffee. I find myself relaxing into the domestic routine in ways I never expected, enjoying the chaos of a three-year-old’s mealtime commentary.

“Can Mr. Radmir read me a story tonight?” he asks as Danielle clears the table. “He has a really nice voice for reading.”

I look at Danielle, who hesitates for just a moment before nodding. “If Mr. Radmir has time, that would be nice.”

“I have time.”

“Bath first.”

He groans at Danielle’s reminder but nods.

While she helps him with that stage, I finish filling the dishwasher before looking around the living room.

The photos on the wall are almost all of Leo, though other people appear in them too.

I recognize Carmen and Danielle, of course, and assume the older woman pictured is her aunt, Molly.

I’m gratified not to see a strange man in any of them.

When he explodes from the bathroom in spaceship pajamas twenty minutes later, he rushes to me. “I’m ready for my story.”

“So am I.” Following him to his small but neatly decorated bedroom, I help Leo choose a book from his collection, settling into the chair beside his bed while he arranges his stuffed animals as an audience.

The bedtime story is about a brownie helping a shoe cobbler, and Leo listens with rapt attention, occasionally commenting. When I finish reading, he hugs me with casual affection. “Thank you for reading to me. You do voices even better than Mama does.”

“I heard that,” Danielle calls from the doorway, but she’s smiling.

“It’s okay, Mama. You’re still the best at making pancakes.”

“I have no doubt,” I say quickly. “I’ve never made pancakes before.”

I tuck him in and turn on his dinosaur nightlight, following Danielle back to the living room where we settle into an awkward silence.

I came here with questions about her clinic visit and plans to discuss custody arrangements, but sitting in her cozy apartment after reading to our son, those conversations feel less urgent.

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner.” I gather my jacket from the chair where I’d left it. “And for letting me read to him.”

She looks surprised. “You’re leaving? I thought you’d want to talk about...arrangements.”

“We’ll figure out the details eventually.” I pause at the door, studying her face. “Tonight was about spending time with Leo, not negotiating terms. He needs to get comfortable with me being around before we worry about schedules and logistics.”

“Oh.” She wraps her arms around herself, and I notice again how careful she is about the way she moves. “I wasn’t expecting...”

“What were you expecting?”

“Demands. Ultimatums. Legal threats.” She meets my eyes. “Not someone who reads bedtime stories and asks about his drawings.”

The admission reveals how little she understands about what I want from this situation. “I’m not interested in being the kind of father who shows up with lawyers and court orders. I want Leo to want me in his life, not resent me for forcing my way into it.”

“And if I said I needed more time? If I asked you to wait until I figured out how to explain this to him?”

“Then I’d ask how much time you think you need.” I reach for the door handle. “But I won’t wait indefinitely, Danielle. He’s my son, and I’ve already missed too much.”

She nods slowly. “Thank you for tonight and for being patient with me. Us.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

I drive back to the estate with Leo’s drawing on the passenger seat beside me, thinking about the evening we just shared. The domestic routine felt natural in ways I never expected, and Leo’s easy acceptance of my presence suggests this transition might be smoother than I anticipated.

The question of Danielle’s pregnancy lingers in my mind but pushing her for answers tonight would have destroyed the progress we made. She needs to trust I can be part of their lives without disrupting everything she’s built, and that trust has to be earned gradually.

Tonight was about discovering being a father might be the most important thing I’ve ever done, and that the family I never knew I wanted is worth whatever it takes to protect my child. Both of my children, if my suspicions about her pregnancy are correct.

All three of them, if she’ll let me. I want Danielle as much as I want the kids, though my feelings for her are definitely different. I want it all. Fatherhood, being a husband, and having her trust and love, along with bedtime stories and messy pasta dinners.

Luca suddenly creeps into thoughts at the back of my mind, reminding me why I can’t take those things for granted. I have to keep them safe if they’re part of my world, and I can’t imagine living without them now that I know how it could be.