The sound of footsteps reaches me a second before the edgy scent of testosterone—musky, like leather with a hint of woodsmoke—envelops me. I draw in the fragrance of his aftershave, like fresh snow on earth. The cold rush of a winter’s wind, followed by the snap and crackle of a fireplace. The images flow over me just before his arms wrap around me. Goose bumps pop on my skin, and my core trembles. I turn around, tip-up my chin, and meet those brilliant blue eyes. Warmth flares in their depths, and silver flashes riddled with sparks of gold. The look he only wears when he is around me, as I have learned.
"Don," I murmur, "I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow."
"I missed you, Beauty." His dark voice flows over me, coils in my chest, and sinks into my blood. A cascade of warmth flares out from my core to my extremities. My toes curl. I bite down on my lower lip, and he lowers his gaze to my mouth. "I missed my wife." He tilts his head and replaces my teeth with his own. He tugs on my lip, and my pussy clenches. Moisture beads my center, and my stomach flip-flops. My pulse ratchets up. Sweat beads my forehead, and I tear my mouth from his. I tip up my chin and watch him watch me with a curious gaze.
"Everything all right, baby?" He frowns as he pushes the hair back from my face. He pauses with his palm on my forehead. "Your skin is clammy." The lines in his forehead deepen. He peers into my face, no doubt, taking in my sudden pallor. My stomach ties itself in knots, the wave of sickness pushing up against my breastbone, my throat. Turning, I race to the bathroom.
I throw up into the toilet bowl. Michael comes up behind me and holds back my hair as I proceed to empty what little is left in my stomach—namely, bile—then dry heave. Finally, when my stomach stops roiling, I slump back against the wall.
He flushes the disgusting remains, then wets a towel and wipes my mouth with it.
"Thank you," I say gratefully. He throws the towel aside, wets another one, and holds it to my forehead.
The coolness from the cloth sinks into my skin, and I sigh.
"Better?"
"I am now that you’re here with me." I reach for his hand and twine my fingers with his.
He peers into my eyes. "Are you—?
"Pregnant?" I bite the inside of my cheek. "I think so."
"You haven’t checked?"
"I was waiting for you to return."
"I’m sorry I had to take off on such short notice. I’d have preferred to be here, especially with Christian’s triplet still in a coma."
"It’s understandable," I murmur. "It’s been nearly two weeks since he was shot."
"And we still don’t have a lead on who did this." He pulls me up to my feet, then scoops me up in his arms. I cuddle into his chest. There’s nowhere else I feel as I do, here with him, in our home. Not that I have been spending much time at home recently either. With Christian leaving for London to track down Aurora, and Michael and Seb leaving to take care of business, it left me and Cassandra, along with Nonna, Massimo, Luca, and Adrian, to take turns being with Theresa.
The woman is stubborn. She refuses to leave his side. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but she finally agreed to head back once a day to shower and change her clothes before returning to keep her vigil.
The doctors moved him into a suite in the hospital which resembles a hotel suite, except for the medical equipment, that is.
It’s a brighter, more cheerful room, and at least, there is an extra bed that Theresa can use. Of course, her preferred spot is in the chair near the bed, holding his hand. She also speaks to him and reads to him, and the doctors say that’s good. It helps to keep his subconscious engaged and gives him a reason to return.
"How is he?" Michael places me down on the bed, then sits down next to me. "I haven’t been to the hospital yet. I came here directly from the airport.”
"He’s the same," I murmur. "It’s difficult to see him and not think of Xander. Of course, if Theresa has her way, he’ll wake up and think of himself as Xander." I laugh.
He blows out a breath. "It’s not healthy, the fact that she has her hopes pegged on his waking up and for the two of them to then have a chance at a real relationship, unlike what she had with Xander."
"It seems cruel to destroy her expectations." I raise a shoulder. "Also, he did step in front of her and take a bullet for her, so that must mean something."
"Perhaps…" Michael doesn’t sound convinced.
"Perhaps, he did it out of instinct?" I offer. "Perhaps, it’s that same instinct which will have him look for a relationship with her?"
"Hmm," Michael's lips firm. "And Christian? Is he back?"
"They are returning tomorrow. I’m glad you convinced him and Aurora to stay in London and take a few days for themselves."
"He wanted me to call him if there was any change in his triplet’s condition. But ... I get the sense that he is also dreading meeting his triplet when he wakes up."
"We still have no idea about who he is, do we?"