She put a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her. “The thing is, you’re right. I’m not good enough for you, Sab. I never was. I think we should both stop … being unrealistic.”
He groaned, and put his hands on either side of her face. His dark eyes were probing hers gently. “You’re not good enough for me, Emily? How can you be so absurd?” He stroked her cheek gently. “You’re infinitely better than me. How can you think I’m ashamed of you? Ashamed of anything about you? Do you want to get a job as a garbage woman? Fine. I will still love you. I don’t care what you do, so long as you are happy.”
Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding. Her head hurt. Her ears were ringing, as though perhaps his words had been an illusion of sound. “You just said you love me.”
His eyes widened. He had indeed said that. And though he’d never realised it before that moment, he knew it to be true. “I do,” he shrugged, as though her feelings weren’t a complete obsession of his. “I think I …”
“Shhh,” she shook her head, tears of despair sparkling in her eyes. “Don’t say anything else.”
His dark eyes flashed as they searched her face, trying to understand her. “I have never said that to a woman before, Emily. I’ve never come close to feeling it for anyone.”
She sucked in a deep breath for strength. “Sabato, let me speak.”
He nodded, true anxiety forming a knot in his gut. He hoped against hope she felt the same way that he did, but he couldn’t be sure.
“This is all very complicated.” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth.
He straightened, withdrawing himself from her mentally. She didn’t love him. She didn’t want him. He braced for the words he knew were coming. “Love is not complex,” he corrected, his tone cold to hide the ache inside of him. “It is something you either feel or you don’t.”
Her lips lifted in a watery smile. Hope was something she didn’t dare feel. “I’m pregnant, Sabato.”
His entire expression changed. His body was held completely still. He stared at her, his face a mask of disbelief. “You’re …”
“Pregnant.” She nodded, her own anxieties threatening to chew through her now. “It’s still very early.”
He pushed aside his own reaction, focussing everything on her and her needs. “That could either be very good news, or very bad news, depending on how you feel about me,” he murmured thickly.
She nodded. “You must know how I feel,” she said, stepping towards him so that he could wrap his arms around her. She pressed her head against his chest. “I fell in love with you the second I saw you. And the first time we made love, I knew I wanted to feel that way all the time. For the rest of my life.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “I do love you, Sab.”
His relief was immense, but concern chased it swiftly. “So why are you so unhappy?”
She ran her hands along his back. “Because!” A sob escaped from her. “It’s so completely messed up. You live here, and I live in London. Plus, there’s Andrew to consider. He’s my brother, and I just adore him. Whatever decisions I make in life have to be right for him. I’m not free to just do what I want. You see that, don’t you?”
Sabato nodded. “Of course I do. He’s your family.” He stroked her hair thoughtfully. “I have never tried to change you, cara. Only to give you the financial independence to pursue your dreams.”
She nodded against his chest. “I know that.” And she did. Everything he’d done, set against the context of the fact he loved her, made it work. It made it good. It made it noble and gallant.
She kept her head tucked against his chest; she could hear the steady bump, bump, bump of his heart.
“Emily,” he said quietly, pulling back a little so that he could look into her eyes.
“Yes?”
“When I come to London next week, it will be with a plan for how we’re to make this work. I do not want you to worry. Understood?”
Emily checked her appearance for the tenth time in as many minutes. The vintage dress was a pale peach colour, and it perfectly flattered the strawberry tones of her hair and skin. She’d teamed it with a chunky gold necklace and a pair of boots. A minute before he was due, the lift doors whooshed open into the luxurious loft Sabato had installed her and Andrew in.
His eyes drunk in her appearance, as he moved swiftly towards her. He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in an embrace. They stood there, arms entwined, for several moments.
“How long do we have until Andrew returns?” Sabato asked, unable to indulge his body’s cravings until he’d put Emily’s worrying mind to rest.
“An hour,” she said, her nervousness obvious.
“Please, sit down then,” he nodded towards the table.
Emily arched a brow, as willing as ever to tease him for his bossy manner.
He tapped her bottom for good measure, then moved with her to the wooden table.