Amedeo, Her Italian Billionaire

By: Susan Westwood


Violet Taylor didn’t want to look at the stick she peed on moments ago. The timer had gone off. She should look at it, even though she knew the answer to her question. Her breasts were sore and exhaustion had been her constant friend. She knew. She’d known for a week.

Not that she’d experienced pregnancy before. Ever. Still, she knew this wasn’t her getting her period. She should have gotten that two weeks ago. For someone who was never late, this was beyond late.

She paced the small bathroom in her tiny apartment. She had no idea why people built small houses. If you could afford a house, build one you could live in. Her place felt even smaller right now. She looked around. She couldn’t raise a kid here. No way.

She didn’t think she could go through with an abortion, but she couldn’t keep this child. She’d go through the whole pregnancy only to give it up.

And the father? Did he have a right to know? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything. Pregnancy brain, or stress from the situation.

“Are you going to look at it?” Kalia, her best friend, asked.

She’d called her before taking the test. Her friend was knocking on her door minutes later because she only live across the hall in her own tiny apartment.


She looked. Two blue lines. She was pregnant. She sat on the edge of the tub, her legs not able to hold her at that moment. The tub’s coldness seeped through her threadbare robe.

Kalia grabbed the stick. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit is right.”

“Who was he?”

Violet thought back to that night six weeks ago. She’d been itching to get out of the apartment, so she’d gone to a bar. This guy must have been slumming because his designer-tailored suit hung on him as if he’d been born with it on. That didn’t scream neighborhood bar. She’d gone willingly to a hotel. Stupid enough and now she was pregnant.

“Some guy I picked up. Guess the condom broke.”

“Violet, let’s take a deep breath before you do anything rash. This guy might want to know.”

He’d been so out of her league. A white guy, no less. Not her usual type. One night stands weren’t her thing. He’d been the first guy she’d ever picked up in a bar. This was why you didn’t do that. You ended up pregnant. She’d admired his long, dark hair. Remnants of her days when she was attracted to bad boys. He’d been a bad boy in his own right. She remembered that he knew his way around a woman’s body. He’d played her like a virtuoso.

Her mouth dried at the memory.

The best sex she’d ever had. And now she had a baby growing inside of her. Shit.

“Do you remember anything about him?” Kalia asked.

Then Violet remembered. He’d put her in a cab, but put his number in her phone.. She’d never used it, too embarrassed by her actions that night. “He put his number in my phone.”

Kalia left, then brought back her phone. It had minimal charge left. At least her electricity hadn’t been turned off and she could charge it. She scrolled through her contacts.

“Find him?”

“Amedeo. I remember he made me think of Mozart.”

“Was he Austrian?”

“No, Italian. First generation, I think. We didn’t talk that much that night.”

Kalia flashed her a smile, clearly seeing the humor in her remark. Violet took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Guess I better call him.”

“Give it some time. Nothing’s going to change in twenty-four hours.”

“It might. I’m not sure I have rent this month. Well, it’s due for three months ago. I don’t have the front or the back rent.” She looked at Kalia as tears threatened to leak out of her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

“You are going back to bed and sleep. Then when you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to have a clearer head and then you can decide a course of action,”

Violet sighed. Her friend was right. The news was still a shock. She couldn’t make a hasty decision. There was now a baby involved. She might actually have to find a real job instead of freelancing. She chafed at the idea, but she needed benefits to go to the doctor. She had someone else to think of now.

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