Rosalie thought of the upcoming labor and was terrified of the unknown, the pain, everything she’d have to go through before she could hold her baby. “Promise you’ll stay with me.”
Alex’s gaze went straight to her heart. “I promise.”
Rosalie knew what a promise meant to him. Looking into her husband’s face, held by his steady, powerful arms, she was suddenly no longer afraid.
Alex had just witnessed a miracle.
Sitting in a private suite of the small, modern hospital, he looked down at his newborn baby son in awe.
Tiny. So tiny. He looked at the minute fingers. He’d arranged for the DNA test, as a matter of form. He trusted Rosalie completely, but he’d wanted to make sure the California clinic hadn’t made some mistake. But now, even with the baby’s scrunched-up face, he saw the exact resemblance to his own baby pictures.
For so long, Alex had dreamed of having a child to carry on the family name. And now it had happened at last. He had an heir.
But it wasn’t just an heir. This was a living, breathing child. His heart pounded as he looked down at his son.
Sitting in a soft chair by the window overlooking the lush Italian countryside, Alex had been shirtless for the last twenty minutes. When the baby had started whimpering and crying, the nurse had recommended that Alex comfort him with skin-to-skin contact. Pressed against his father’s warm chest, cuddled beneath a blanket, the baby had swiftly quieted, then fallen asleep.
Alex looked at his wife, who was sleeping in the bed. He thought of everything she’d gone through to give birth. The pain, the fear. It had been a long night. He’d been at her side the whole time, ordering ice chips, raging at her doctor to do something, anything to ease her agony.
“It is too late,” the doctor had replied crisply. “The baby is coming too quickly.”
“I can deal with the pain,” Rosalie had panted, her forehead sweaty, her eyes glazed. “Please, Alex. Just stay with me.”
She’d reached out her hand. He’d taken it. He’d held it for two hours.
Now, he stretched out his hand ruefully. His bones seemed to creak. He could still feel the bruises.
But
how proud he was of her. He was in awe of her courage and strength. He didn’t know if he could ever endure what she just had.
And now, the room was quiet. Both his wife and son slept. Their breathing was even and soft, the sweetest music he’d ever heard.
Alex looked around the private hospital suite. The light from the window was golden, just as it had been yesterday, when he’d kissed her in the vineyard. The room was filled with bouquets of flowers, sent by his acquaintances from around the world, and by the estate staff, who already loved her.
Somehow, this summer had been the best time of his life. He’d never imagined any marriage could be so...happy. Not something to be endured, but actually enjoyed. And not just at night, when they set the world on fire, but during the day too. Rosalie had become not just his companion, but his friend. His true partner.
As he held his newborn, whom they’d named Oliver Ernst Falconeri after Rosalie’s father, Alex looked across the room at his sleeping wife. And the emotion in his heart was so strong he almost couldn’t bear it.
It was too much. He couldn’t care this much. His heart started to race, going faster and faster. He couldn’t have this much to lose. If he failed them—
So much could happen. To this tiny, fragile baby. To his tender, openhearted wife. How could he prevent any possible disaster? How could he keep them safe? His hands tightened around the sleeping bundle in his arms.
Alex had never felt like this before. Certainly not with Chiara. Marrying his first wife had been easy. Without passion, without love, there’d been no fear, no jealousy, no heartbreak, just coldness—his own personal Antarctica, right here in Italy.
His own childhood had been full of drama as his father argued hatefully, always going for the jugular, and his mother gave them all the silent treatment for days, both of them forcing their children to endure the endless cycle of misery. His older brother, Thomas, had soaked up their malice like a sponge, and learned to fight with the same weapons. They’d still died, and so had his sister, though she’d tried to flee and start a new life. And look at Rosalie’s parents—they’d died in a fire.
Anything could happen, at any age, even to people who were rich. Even to people who were loved. Even to people who were good. There was no safety net. He could lose Rosalie. They could lose their child.
Alex suddenly felt dizzy. He took a deep breath, trying to control the frantic pounding of his heart.
He couldn’t let anything happen to either of them. He had to hold it all together. To be tough. To be strong. To be steel.
He couldn’t let his emotions take over, leaving him afraid and weak, with his heart pounding like this, his breath a shallow gasp, and all from fear. Knowing his wife and child could be taken from him at any point. Knowing they could die.
Knowing they could leave.
A man was only as good as his strength. As good as his promises. Alex had to protect his family. And himself.