I walk back into Sergio’s room. I don’t even close the door behind me but sit on the bed and I’m counting. But it’s not possible. We’ve had unprotected sex once. We’ve been really careful. So careful.

No. Of course that’s not it. I feel fine now. Dominic is just fucking with me. Sergio said he would.

I go back out into the hallway. I want to find Sergio. And get some coffee. Apologize to his mom for last night. I hear Dominic talking from what I assume is his bedroom. He must still be on the phone. Apart from that, the house is quiet as I soundlessly make my way down the stairs. I can’t help feeling like a trespasser.

The large living room is empty, although soft music is playing from an ancient looking record player. Across the way is the dining room where we ate last night. It looks like there’s a breakfast buffet arranged on the sideboard, but I bypass it.

I hear noise behind the swinging door on the opposite side of the dining room. It’s the sound of pots and pans, of a woman giving the order to take a sauce off the heat before it’s burnt. I turn and walk down the hallway toward rooms with closed doors. I wonder if Sergio’s behind one of them and suddenly panic that he’s not. That something happened and he left. I don’t want to be in this house without him.

The thought makes me shudder, but then as I approach the farthest door, I hear him. Something tells me not to linger, but I do. It’s not on purpose. I don’t mean to eavesdrop. But when I hear Franco’s raised voice, make out what he’s saying, I freeze.

“I told you. I don’t want the girl,” Sergio says. “I have never agreed with what you’re doing to her.”

“The DeMarco’s lost the war. This is their punishment. Consequences, son. Better get used to dishing them out, or they’ll walk all over you when you’re head of the family.”

“Punishing an innocent girl doesn’t sit right with me.”

“It’s a school. I’ll educate her, at least,” he says, leaning back. “She belongs to you. I don’t care what you do with her. You know what’s expected of you. You’re first born.”

“It’s not the fucking middle ages. Give her to Salvatore. Or hell, don’t give her to anyone!”

“No,” Franco says a little more quietly, and I swear I can almost see the tight line of his mouth.

“Salvatore already signed the contract.”

“I don’t care who signed the goddamned contract."