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His wife and her well-being would always come first.
* * *
Nyra was lying on the comfortable chaise longue in Adriano’s study at the villa, watching boats lazily drift over Lake Como, with the background of pretty villages. The afternoon felt eternal from her unmoving spot.
Rain was pelting outside mercilessly, matching her gloomy mood.
She pulled Adriano’s leather jacket close around her shoulders, even though the last thing she felt was cold. All she wanted was to drown in the scent of him, and the leather jacket still had a whiff of him. She shifted restlessly. At her lower back, there was that persistent twinge, arrowing down to her pelvis.
It would be better to lie down in her bed, but she didn’t want to leave the cozy room with its large fireplace and books. Here, she felt surrounded by him.
For the millionth time, she picked up her phone, her finger hovering over his number. Cursing, she jerked away and switched the display off.
Anger at herself washed through her. What right did she have to call and inconvenience him when she hadn’t heeded his advice in the first place? He had told her, again and again, that Nadia would only distress her in her current condition. It was almost as if he’d known what would happen.
At least she’d stopped crying over her sister’s actions and stopped panicking about how much worse it could have been, if not for Fabi’s and Bruno’s prompt action.
As if sensing the fracture in her composure, the babies gave a swift kick, nearly up into her chest, making her gasp and laugh.
While she would always wonder about Nadia, she had enough sense now to see the new sister she had acquired. Just this morning, on an impulse, she had hugged Fabi, overwhelmed by affection for the younger woman. Who had burst into tears and admitted that she had been so terrified that she had called Adriano and confessed everything.
Now Nyra was waiting for her husband and the black temper he surely was going to be in. Not that she didn’t deserve it. God, she would bear it happily—make all the promises he demanded of her, if it meant he would hold her after giving her the tongue-lashing she deserved.
Rubbing a hand over her lower back, she put her feet on the ground and was about to shift her bottom when her nape prickled.
She turned so fast that she made herself dizzy. The reward, six foot three inches of masculinity, stood under the archway. Her heart rabbited in her chest and every inch of her longed to run across the study and throw herself at him, like she’d done once.
The only thing she would manage in reality, if she even got up to her feet now, was to waddle toward him. With his thick brows tying into a frown—his penetrating gaze sweeping over her, from her hair to her toes as if looking for proof of her misadventure—his posture told her not to dare something like that.
So she stayed there and simply looked at him to her heart’s content. Just seeing him here, under the same roof, was enough to lighten her grief just a little. And that’s what, she realized with a sudden flare of understanding, it meant to love him.
“I know you’re angry with me,” she finally said, tired of waiting for him to come to her. “And I will take any punishment you give me, but you should know that I did not lie to you at any point. Except after you left. Even that was omission rather than a lie.”
“That’s a concession you will make for yourself, then?” he said, his silky tone hiding something far more volatile.
“What point would it serve to worry you?” she said, hoping he could hear the truth in her words. “I didn’t know that she was coming, Adriano. She had three more months left at the clinic. I didn’t even dream that she was going to run away. All I told her was that you were going out of the country on a trip, and that too, because she asked me about you.” She rubbed at the stupid tears filling her eyes with the back of her hand. “She must have been planning it for a while, and I…didn’t even realize that she was using me. I know you’ll call me foolish for trusting her. I just wish…”
He came to her then, all brooding angles and volatile energy packed into that strong, powerful frame.
Before she could get to her feet, he knelt before her. Making her head swoon with both joy and a sudden flooding of grief.
Hand on her belly, Nyra spread her thighs apart so that they straddled his hips. She longed to kiss him, but her face was wet with tears and snot and sweat.
“Where did you hit your head?” he asked, a whiteness emerging around his lush mouth.
His words sounded like gravel, like they were coming from somewhere far, muffled by some great force on the way.
Nyra had the sudden realization that it was emotion that had changed the tenor of his voice. For a second, she considered laughing it off, but something about the feral look in his eyes arrested the impulse. She lifted her hand and pressed on the still-painful bump on the right side of her head.
“Bend your head,” he said.
Dutifully, Nyra did. Long fingers gently probed the edges of her bump, without causing more pain. “They said everything was okay with you? And the babies?” he said again in that far-off voice.
Nyra was hit with another swift realization. It wasn’t just any emotion that was choking him, it was fear. Fear that he might have lost her, or that she might have been hurt worse or that she might have been in pain.
Fresh tears—God, did she do anything other than cry these days—filled her eyes. “It was an accident. We were arguing…and she was angry with me. I told her I would bring cash so that we could get away and when she realized I had lied and asked Bruno to be present…” She studied her fingers, replaying the scene in her head one more time. “Neither did I take any risk. I realized immediately after she showed up that she needed to go back to the clinic. She was in bad shape, Adriano. All I wanted was to send her back so that she could get help. The only action I could have taken, in your absence, was to call security on her when she first showed up at the villa, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”
“I’m not going to scold you, Nyra,” he said, his own voice cracking.