Detained: A Dark Mafia Romance (Beneath The Mask Series Book 4)
Detained: Chapter 42

I chose a flowing black dress with intricate lace details and paired it with a cozy white cardigan.

As Frankie drives, his hand tightly grips my exposed thigh. “You look absolutely fucking divine, angel.”

I blush at his words and place my hand over his. My leg starts to bounce, and he tightens his grip.

“It’s all going to be fine, Zara.”

“You don’t know that. This is one thing you don’t have control over, Frankie.”

His lips form a thin line.

“I know if you could, you’d do anything to make sure they’re okay.” My heart is full. I don’t need anything else. My stomach tightens as he parks outside of the doctor’s office. I don’t know what strings he pulled to get this on Christmas Day, but I’m not arguing with him.

“You know, we could have just waited for the twelve weeks?” I say as Frankie rings the bell while squeezing my hand.

“After yesterday, we need to make sure.”

“It’s a damn scratch on my face!”

He tugs me into his side. “Shh.”

The door creaks open, and an older lady with a warm smile greets us, guiding us to the waiting room.

“Dr. Edwards will be ready for you both in a minute. Is this your first pregnancy?”

Frankie keeps quiet next to me. I nod slowly.

A bright smile spreads across her face as she claps her hands together.

“How wonderful, first-time parents. The first scan is always the scariest, you’ll be fine.”

I direct my attention to Frankie. I swear he’s stopped breathing; his face is incredibly pale.

“Are you okay?”

He sucks in a deep breath. “Yes.”

Perfect. Looks like both of us are on the edge today. I take a seat and Frankie stands in front of me, tapping his foot on the floor repeatedly. It makes me grit my teeth.

“Can you just sit down?” I hiss.

He turns his head to me and raises a brow. I snap my lips shut.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Falcone.”

“Umm—” I reply, Frankie cuts me off by pulling me up out of the chair and smiling at the handsome doctor. He holds out his hand to Frankie, who firmly grips it to shake.

“Follow me.”

I pause, fear slowing my movements.

“Come on, it won’t hurt.” He presses a hand to the small of my back and guides me into the room.

“How do you know? Have you done this before?” I ask sarcastically.

His lips thin, but he doesn’t answer.

The doctor is putting on the latex gloves as I stare at a stretcher with stirrups in the middle of the room. I want to run away.

My mouth goes dry and I’m stuck in my place.

“You’ve got this, dolcezza,” Frankie whispers on the top of my head and places a kiss.

“If you could get yourself undressed from the waist down, prop yourself up with a leg in either stirrup, that would be great. Just give me a shout when you’re ready.”

Dr. Edwards pulls a curtain around the bed after handing me a paper towel material.

I nod.

Frankie takes the paper from my hand. “Breathe, Zara.”

I look up at him. He looks no better than me right now.

I shimmy off my panties and hold them out to Frankie. He gives me a weak smile and shoves them in his suit pocket.

“I want those back.” I squint my eyes.

I shuffle my dress up and position myself, exposed, with my legs open. Frankie places the paper over the top of my thighs and pulls up a seat right next to me. I expect him to sit, but he walks around, taking a step back.

“What a view,” he rasps, looking straight at my naked pussy and licking his lips.

“Stop it.” I do not feel sexy like this.

“We’re ready!” I call out, and Frankie glares at me.

As the doctor enters, he steps around the monitor and sits next to me. I pull down the sleeves of my cardigan over my hands and stare up at the ceiling.

He starts the machine, and a low hum fills the room. He picks up a stick looking thing. I bite back a laugh as he squirts some lube on it and Frankie clears his throat.

“Okay, Zara. If you can take a deep breath in for me and then slowly let it out, I will insert the transvaginal probe inside. It will be cold, but hopefully not too uncomfortable,” the doctor says matter-of-factly.

I respond by nodding and taking a deep breath.

“Good girl,” the doctor says.

A growl rumbles through Frankie’s chest and his jaw tightens as he glares at the doctor. I grab his hand in mine and dig my nails into the skin.

I release my breath through my nose and wince as the cold object slides into me.

“Okay, nearly there, Zara. Relax for me,” the doctor says in a soothing tone.

I take in another breath, keeping my eyes locked on Frankie’s.

His face softens as I smile at him.

The monitor starts making rumbling noises, so I look over at all the gray and black on the screen and try to make out what the hell it all is. The doctor wiggles the probe around and I bite down on my lip, completely on edge, waiting to see something, anything appear.

“Well?” Frankie asks.

The doctor doesn’t reply. He’s fixated on the screen.

Frankie’s grip on my hand tightens, providing a reassuring squeeze as my fear intensifies.

“Ah-ha. Gotcha.” The doctor beams and turns the screen to face us.

“There you have it.” He points to the little blob on the screen, and my eyes start to sting.

Our baby.

My attention is completely captivated by it.

Dr. Edwards clicks a few buttons, and a white line appears over the picture. “From this, I’d say you are around eleven weeks.”

Frankie’s bloodshot eyes meet mine, filled with sadness.

“Would you like to keep some images?” the doctor asks, I can’t stop looking at Frankie. Why the hell is he so pale? Neither of us reply.

“Please,” I whisper.

My heart is in my throat. Something is wrong.

“Would you mind giving us a minute when you’re finished?” I ask the doctor.

“Of course.”

He continues taking a few more measurements. We all sit in silence until he finishes and quietly leaves.

I pull my dress back down and toss the paper in the trash, sitting in front of an unmoving Frankie, who looks as though he is about to throw up.

“Hey.” I cup his cheek.

Nothing. I place a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to talk to me, Frankie Falcone.” I keep my voice stern, forcing him to look at me.

My own eyes brim with tears, and I let out a shaky breath.

“Please. What’s going on? Our baby is fine. Don’t make me do this on my own, Frankie. I need you here with me.”

He tips his head down, so I stroke his hair lightly.

I want to know what has caused this reaction, but equally, I know he isn’t ready to tell me. If this is ever going to work between us, he has to open up to me, to trust me.

Maybe I have to show him I trust him, too. Completely and utterly.