The Double Life of My Pregnant Ex-Wife (Carmen and Marco) novel Chapter 45

The rain had started again, a steady drizzle that turned the narrow streets of neutral territory slick and treacherous. Carmen sat in the backseat of Luca’s car, her gaze fixed on the dim horizon. Her expression was calm, but her hands, tightly clasped in her lap, betrayed the nerves beneath her composed exterior.

“This is reckless,” Marco said from the passenger seat, his voice sharp as he glanced back at her. “Meeting Emilio Bianchi alone? It’s asking for trouble.”

Carmen didn’t look at him. “If we wait for Arianna to strike again, we’ll lose more men. I’m not sitting back anymore.”

Marco turned in his seat, his anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re walking into a snake pit, Carmen. Bianchi doesn’t make deals—he collects heads. If he even suspects you’re playing him—”

“Then I’ll handle it,” she cut him off, her voice cool and firm. “We need to know what Arianna’s planning, and Emilio’s the closest we’ll get to her.”

Luca shot Marco a warning look from the driver’s seat. “She’s right. Emilio’s got his own agenda, and if we play this carefully, he might give us something without even realizing it.”

Marco scoffed, but it lacked his usual fire. “And what if he does realize it? Do you think he’ll just let her walk out alive?”

“She’s not walking in there without backup,” Luca replied calmly. “My men are already in place. If anything happens, we’ll get her out.”

Carmen finally looked at Marco then, her expression softening slightly. “This is bigger than us, Marco. You know it. I need to do this—for the family, for our child.”

Her words struck something deep within him, and Marco exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping. “You shouldn’t have to risk your life for this.”

“Maybe not,” she said softly. “But I’m the only one who can.”

Marco didn’t argue this time. He simply turned back in his seat, staring out at the rain-slicked streets with a storm still brewing in his eyes.

________________

The meeting place was a long-abandoned train depot, its once-busy platforms now overtaken by rust and silence. Carmen stepped out of the car first, her coat pulled tight around her as she walked toward the center of the platform. The cavernous space stretched out around her, littered with broken crates and the echoes of dripping water.

She felt Marco’s eyes on her back, even as Luca’s men spread out in the shadows, ready to act at the first sign of danger. She couldn’t afford to falter now.

A low whistle broke the silence.

“Well, well,” Emilio Bianchi’s deep, gravelly voice rang out from the far end of the platform. He emerged from the shadows with two men flanking him, his tall, imposing figure almost predatory as he approached. His scarred face split into a grin, and his dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “If it isn’t Carmen Venetti herself. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Truce negotiations,” Carmen replied evenly, keeping her voice steady as Emilio came to a stop a few feet in front of her.

“Truce,” Emilio repeated, his grin widening as he turned to his men with a mock chuckle. “Hear that? She wants peace.”

His men smirked but said nothing, their hands hovering near their weapons. Carmen ignored them, keeping her focus locked on Emilio.

“Peace benefits us both,” she said smoothly. “You’ve got Arianna whispering in your ear, promising you the world. But how many times have those promises fallen apart?”

Emilio tilted his head slightly, his smile faltering just a fraction. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But what makes you think I’d ever turn on her? Arianna’s given me something your husband never could: opportunity.”

“And when she’s done using you?” Carmen countered, her gaze sharp. “When you’ve bled yourself dry fighting her battles, what do you think she’ll do? Thank you? Or turn her men on you to make sure you can’t challenge her power?”