His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Chapter 68

There was a man sitting beside my bed. My vision swam as I squinted at him.

He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, with brown hair, a smattering of freckles across his nose, and black glasses framing his bright green eyes, which were now fixed on my face.

Something tugged at the back of my mind. How did I know this man?

I turned my head, taking in the room. I was in what looked like a high-end hospital room with a strange man wearing a suit.

“You’re awake,” he said in a heavy Irish accent.

At the sound of his voice, it all came back to me. I’d been trying to staunch the bleeding of Matteo’s leg when this man had run into the warehouse through the massive hole in the wall with a group of soldiers. They had gotten Matteo out from underneath the slab of concrete and taken both of us to the hospital. I must have passed out on the drive.

“Who are you?” I croaked.

“I’m Ronan, head of the Irish Mob.”

“Oh.” I should be panicking, but I felt strangely numb. “Should I be screaming for help right about now?”

He smirked. “Not sure it would get you anywhere, but you can always try.”

“I’ll save my voice,” I said dryly.

My mind whirled as I slowly emerged from the heavy mental fog. And then the panic hit. I opened my mouth to try and form words—what happened after I passed out? Was Matteo…

He must have read the fear in my eyes. “Matteo is okay. So is Angelo.”

Relief washed over me so intensely I thought I might pass out. I fell back against the pillows. “You’re sure? They’re really okay?” I sniffed.

“Aww shit, lass, I can’t handle tears.” He patted my hand somewhat awkwardly. “Yes, they’re both okay. The Don is out of surgery. He’s still unconscious, but they saved his leg and he’s going to be fine. Your bodyguard, Angelo, is also out of surgery. The Albanians left him on the airfield, and we were able to get him to the hospital. He had to have a blood transfusion, but the doctors are confident he’ll make it. They’re both recovering in rooms on this hallway. This is my private hospital.”

I tried to stop my tears, but they dripped down my cheeks onto my gown. “Thank you so much,” I blubbered. “How are Leona and Finn and Aidan?”

Ronan sat back in his chair with a smile. “Leona said you were a sweet girl. She was on the other side of the wall when the Russians threw the grenade and had to have surgery to remove shrapnel from her side, but she’s already trying to get out of bed.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection in his voice. “Finn and Aidan are both a bit bruised, but okay. We had to sedate you after pulling you off the Don because you were so distraught. You slept for twelve hours. The doctors dressed the cuts on your hands, arms, and knees. You also had a dislocated shoulder and a couple of ribs.”

“What about—” My voice was so hoarse I could barely get my words out. Ronan took a glass of water from the side table and held it out to me. I gulped down the entire cup gratefully, and he poured me another. “Did the doctor say anything about the baby?”

Ronan froze as he returned the water pitcher to the table. “You’re pregnant?”

My tears kept falling because I didn’t know what the answer to that was anymore, so I just nodded.

“Right. Let me get someone.” Ronan hit the call button by the bed and looked over at me with an air of panic.

A nurse quickly entered the room. “You’re awake,” she said with a broad smile.

“Mrs. Rossi has just informed me that she’s pregnant,” Ronan said. “Get someone to check her over immediately.”

The nurse blinked and then rushed out of the room.

“How much pregnant are you? I mean… how many months?”

I raised an eyebrow. Apparently pregnancy was how you ruffled Mafia men. “Just a few weeks. If I’m still pregnant.”

His expression softened, and he took my hand. I squeezed it in gratitude.

The nurse returned and another woman walked in behind her.

“Mrs. Rossi, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Aisling Sullivan. I’m an OBGYN.”

“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.

She smiled. “I hear you’re pregnant?”

“I just found out a few days ago from a blood test. But the past few days have been… a lot.” I didn’t know how much I could say.

“This is Mr. Finnegan’s private hospital,” she said, glancing at Ronan. “So we understand his line of work.”

Well, that made things a bit easier to explain. “I don’t know if all the stress and everything hurt the baby.” My voice cracked.

Dr. Sullivan gave me a sympathetic look. “Well, your blood work does indicate pregnancy, but it takes hCG levels a while to return to normal after miscarriage.” She continued quickly when she saw my panicked expression. “I’m not saying you did have a miscarriage, just that blood work might not be an accurate indicator of pregnancy. Let’s do an ultrasound and see what we can see. We won’t be able to see much at this stage, but that doesn’t mean Baby isn’t perfectly healthy.”

“How can the baby possibly be healthy?” I sobbed. “I’ve done nothing to protect them.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Dr. Sullivan said.

Ronan squeezed my hand harder. “Sofiya, from what I saw, you were absolutely incredible. You saved yourself and so many others in there.”

Dr. Sullivan passed me a box of tissues, and I took them gratefully.

“Just take a deep breath for me and we’ll take a look. We’ll do a transvaginal ultrasound. Have you had one before?”

I shook my head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t be painful.”

Ronan excused himself, letting me know he would stay right outside the door, and Dr. Sullivan and the nurses got the equipment ready. The doctor arranged my legs into stirrups and pressed the ultrasound wand inside me. I breathed through the discomfort, keeping my gaze on the computer screen, desperate to make sense out of the staticky black and gray shapes. The doctor was quiet, and I felt like screaming.

Then she smiled. “There,” she said, pointing at a little blurry dot in the middle of a black oval. “That’s the yolk sac and embryo.”

The world stopped as I stared at the screen. It was barely anything, just a little blur, but it was proof that I was still pregnant. “Is there a heartbeat?” I choked out.

“Not yet, but that’s to be expected. Based on this scan and from what you told me, you’re about five weeks along.”

I frowned. “That’s not possible. We only started having sex a few weeks ago.”

She smiled. “Gestational age is actually based on your last period, not the actual conception date. You should have another ultrasound in about three weeks. I can do it if you’re still in the area, or we’ll get you set up with another OBGYN. But you’ll be able to see more then, and possibly hear a heartbeat.”

She removed the ultrasound wand and helped me sit up.

“I just really want this baby to make it,” I whispered.

She patted my hand. “I want that, too.”

The nurse took my vitals, and the doctor checked my shoulder and ribs. As she was heading out, she asked if I wanted Ronan back in the room, and I nodded. I didn’t want to be alone right now.

Ronan walked back in and took his seat by my bed. “Is everything okay with the baby?”

“Yeah, seems like it.”

He patted my hand again. “I’m glad to hear it.”

I pressed my hand against my stomach, willing the little life in there to make it. “Can I see Matteo and Angelo?”

“Neither of them are awake right now, and you need to rest.”

“Please.”

“Fuck. Fine. But you have to use this wheelchair.” He pointed at a chair in the corner of the room, and I nodded. I wasn’t sure if he knew I used one normally, or if he was just being protective.

Before either of us could move, the door flew open. Ronan whirled around and pointed his gun at… Leona.