173

Book:My Mafia Man Published:2024-11-9

[REBECCA]
Trembling, my hands sought stability as I drew in deep breaths. “So, the concept of innocence is irrelevant to you. You’re driven solely by your wants and the actions required to achieve them. Could that render me a villainous figure? Conceivably. Do I possess concern? None whatsoever. However, does your opinion matter to me? In that regard, yes.”
A shaky hand reached for my lips as I shook my head, struggling to articulate my thoughts. His chuckle rumbled low, his hurt palpable when my voice faltered.
“Go on. Say it, Rebecca. I’m a fiend. Your spouse is a executioner,” he provoked.
Once again, I denied his assertion with a shake of my head.
“I am acutely aware of your identity. I entered into matrimony with you, fully comprehending your actions and methods. This revelation isn’t shocking. It’s more an inundation of knowledge. You’re right you’re a murderer. You’re a monstrosity,” I paused, collecting my thoughts.
His eyes widened, and he took an involuntary step back, as though my words had scalded him.
Stepping forward, I invaded his personal space once more. “But you’re my monstrosity.”
Artemy inhaled audibly, his shoulders slumping. “Can you fathom my message? I embrace you for your entirety. You belong to me in every facet. Thus, I implore you to cease this self-deprecation. I determine what I deserve, and I affirm that we deserve one another.”
Silence enveloped Artemy for a moment, his countenance a mixture of lethal intensity.
Then, unexpectedly, he threw his head back and released laughter. Drawing me into his arms, he buried his face into my neck. “You’re truly irrational for loving me. There’s no turning back now. It’s too late. I’ll never release you, Angel.”
“I have no desire for you to release me,” I murmured, nuzzling into his chest.
“Excellent,” he retorted with an air of arrogance.
We embraced, steadfastly clinging to one another. Within his arms, I felt cherished and enveloped in warmth. If anyone dared to separate us, I would fiercely resist.
***
Nearly three months had passed since the incident. One morning, I stirred from sleep, discomfort settling in my lower abdomen. The sensation tightened my stomach momentarily, and I shifted in an attempt to alleviate the stiffness.
In an unexpected jolt, both my stomach and back muscles contracted, abruptly forcing my eyes open as I felt a rush between my legs a gush that sent a jolt of realization through me.
“Oh, not again,” I murmured, mortification coloring my cheeks as I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment. This marked the second time this week I had involuntarily wet the bed, a humiliating predicament.
With a flush of warmth in my cheeks, I struggled to sit up. At least Artemy was downstairs this time. The last instance had caught him in an unfortunate situation.
In that prior occurrence, both of us had been sound asleep when the urgency to use the bathroom struck me in the dead of night. However, my response had been too sluggish, and by the time I managed to rouse myself, it was already too late I had wet the bed.
Tears had welled up as my humiliation overtook me, awakening Artemy. My shame had poured out along with my tears, rendering me almost inconsolable.
Artemy’s response, however, had been nothing short of gallant. Instead of reproach, he had planted a tender kiss on my forehead before gently rising from the bed. Assisting me to my feet, he guided me to the bathroom and stood by me in the shower, a silent show of support as he tended to me with utmost care, ensuring I was clean and comforted. He had even clothed me in a fresh nightgown, replaced the damp sheets with clean ones, and then held me in his embrace until sleep reclaimed me.
Now, as I found myself in a similar predicament, I resignedly acknowledged I was on my own this time. Hastily leaving the damp bed behind, I noticed the persistent leakage and grew increasingly exasperated the fluid seemingly endless.
Stamping my foot in frustration, I suddenly halted, realizing something amiss. The fluid was clear, devoid of any color. My fingers tentatively touched the wet spot, and curiosity led me to bring it to my nose. No odor emanated from it.
Realization struck, and my jaw dropped. The pieces fell into place, and I comprehended the situation.
Overlooking the trail of moisture I left in my wake, I waddled towards the bathroom, my haste hindered by the significant size of my burgeoning belly. Claire had remarked on more than one occasion that my pregnancy was visibly prominent, a fact that Artemy seemed to cherish. His affection for my pregnant form stemmed from the sense of possession it brought him, a sentiment that often baffled me about the male psyche.
My back ached as I disrobed and hastily showered. Dressed in a fresh gown with my hair pulled back, I emerged from the room. A final glance at the bed confirmed my plans the maid would have to manage the aftermath.
With a deliberate, measured pace, I descended the stairs. I anticipated Artemy’s imminent concern, yet I was armed with a perfect retort. As my eyes landed on the living room, I spotted a scene that suited my purpose. Lynda and Nona were engrossed in crafting baby booties for Princess, a gathering that included all the key players.
Artemy’s eyes locked onto me, and he swiftly rose from his seat. His voice, laden with concern and frustration, boomed as he addressed me. “Rebecca! Why are you coming down the stairs by yourself?” His stern tone almost made me flinch.
Artemy’s strong grip encircled my waist, and he guided me with a mixture of support and urgency to the nearby sofa. As he attempted to settle me into a sitting position, I firmly planted my feet on the floor, halting his efforts.
“Wait,” I uttered, my voice a hesitant murmur.
He halted instantly, his actions suspended in response to my single word.
Anxiety clenched within me, and my heartbeat quickened. Swallowing hard, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by nervousness.
Interpreting my silence through a negative lens, Artemy’s face contorted with worry, verging on panic. “What is it, Rebecca? Is something wrong? Is it the baby? Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”
I mustered the strength to reassure him amid my own apprehension. “No. I’m okay. Everyone, stay calm. It’s all good and okay.”
His raised eyebrow beckoned me to explain further, his gaze unwavering and intense.
Casting my eyes briefly over our companions, I then focused on Artemy once again. With a steadying breath, I gathered my resolve. “My water broke,” I announced, a note of excitement seeping into my voice as I anticipated their reactions.
A palpable shockwave of astonishment rippled through the room, briefly silencing everyone.
“What?”
“Shit!”
“We’re not ready!”
“Oh dear.”
“Oh my God!”
“You’re not due for another two days!”
The last exclamation was Artemy’s, his usual eloquence overshadowed by the unexpected news. For the first time, he seemed almost speechless, staring at me as though I had sprouted two heads. Indeed, a similar expression of astonishment was mirrored on the faces of all the men present.
Brayden appeared on the brink of fainting, his complexion paling. Avim seemed prepared to sprint for the nearest exit. Leon, in a display of retreat, had already begun taking a few steps backward.
Artemy’s rambling revealed his inner turmoil. “You’re not ready. We’re not ready. The baby isn’t supposed to come out now. Claire said so! Another two days. We have another two days, Rebecca!”
His eyes held an unmistakable fear as he placed a protective hand on my very pregnant belly. An unexpected kick from within, sharp and insistent, caused me to wince, my back responding with a twinge of pain.
“Ouch,” I murmured, my hand moving to rub the sore spot.
Artemy’s panic intensified as he scrutinized me, his gaze shifting to Brayden with urgency. “Get the car,” he commanded, his voice tinged with desperation.
However, Brayden remained rooted to the spot, his shock immobilizing him.
Leaning closer to Artemy, I whispered, “I think he’s in shock.”
Artemy’s patience snapped, and his voice thundered. “Brayden!” The force of his call seemed to jolt Brayden back to reality, but his sudden movement was anything but graceful. He stumbled over his own feet, inadvertently colliding with Nona’s cherished vase, before tumbling to the floor.
After a moment of awkward stillness, Brayden scrambled back to his feet and rushed out of the room.
Lynda, ever the organizer, stepped in. “Leon, go get Rebecca’s bag. Princess’s bag is in the piano room,” she directed, joining me at my side.
Turning to Avim, I assigned him a task. “Avim, can you make sure Brayden doesn’t crash into something with the car? I don’t think he can drive at the moment.”
Avim, the calmest of the lot albeit under duress, nodded in agreement and promptly headed after Brayden.
Nona, pushing Artemy aside gently, inquired, “Are you having any contractions?”
Artemy’s glare softened as he moved to stand protectively before me.
“No contractions yet. My water broke about twenty minutes ago. Maybe a little less,” I explained.
Nona shared her wisdom, her attention shifting between us. “Hmm…you’ll probably start experiencing contractions before you reach the hospital.”
I nodded, taking in her words. Looking at Artemy, my focus remained on him as I sought answers. “How bad will it be?”
Her response was compassionate. “It varies for everyone, dear. I can’t provide an exact prediction.”
With my gaze still fixed on Artemy, I observed his silent distress at the prospect of my impending labor. His brow glistened with sweat, and his hands trembled at his sides, the visible signs of his inner turmoil.
Extending my hand, I patiently awaited Artemy’s grasp, and upon his grip, I drew him closer to me. My swollen belly nestled against Artemy’s lower abdomen as I enfolded him in my embrace.
Softly, I reassured him, my words a gentle murmur against his chest, “I’ll be alright. You must breathe, or you’ll faint, and I can’t have you collapsing, Artemy.”
Nona and Lynda stood steadfastly by my side, their forms pressed closely against mine, a proximity that I welcomed. Their support was a comfort I secretly relied on more than I admitted.
Artemy’s arms encircled me, pulling me into a tight hug. I sensed his tension melting away as he exhaled. With my ear placed over his chest, I perceived the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat resonating in tandem with my own.
My inner turmoil was rampant-an inner storm of anxiety-yet I fought to project an outward facade of calm. If everyone else spiraled into panic, there needed to be someone radiating composure.
Ironically, it seemed that the expectant mother was destined to play the role of a peacemaker.
“Are you in pain?” he inquired in a hushed tone, his voice tinged with a hint of fear.
I shook my head, disentangling myself gently. “I’m alright, at least for now. We just need to reach the hospital.”
“I’ve got the bag!” Leon’s voice reverberated from the staircase, almost a shout.
“The car’s ready, parked outside,” Avim’s voice joined the fray, his tone equally urgent.
“Where is the baby’s bag?” Artemy’s patience frayed, his words laced with frustration.
“Huh?” Leon stared at the bag he held, bewilderment evident on his face. “I grabbed Rebecca’s bag.”
“You’re utterly useless,” Artemy growled, already making his way upstairs. I watched him ascend as a fresh spasm of pain jolted through my spine.
I winced, my hand instinctively seeking to soothe my aching back.
“What’s the matter?” Lynda’s anxiety-laden voice broke through.
“My back is hurting,” I confessed, finally conceding to the discomfort.
In that instant, my abdomen tightened, a sensation akin to my skin stretching, accompanied by a heavy sensation in my lower belly. Unpleasant and unfamiliar.
“The contractions have begun, haven’t they?” Nona observed, her gaze knowing.
I nodded, confirming her assessmen