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He leaned forward, his hands folded on the table as if in prayer, his voice low, ominous, and as deadly serious as I’d ever heard a man be. “Just like that.”
Seven
Olivia
Then . . .
Thunder boomed mere seconds after the lightning flashed, lighting up the dark sky beyond the open blinds of the hotel room window as rain fell in noisy sheets on the balcony outside. Inside, I was warm and cozy, wrapped up in Christoph’s embrace, the sheet up to our waists as his fingertips trailed lazily up and down my waist.
In the wake of our lovemaking, my body was sated, my eyes heavy as I studied my own fingertips as they ran through his sprinkling of chest hair. The air was saturated with the scent of us together and his cologne, as well as the storm outside. It was perfect. We were perfect. Even if we were new. Everything about how naturally we’d come together in these past couple of months spoke volumes. At least to me.
I lifted my head and propped my chin on his chest, my heart suddenly beating a new, uncertain rhythm. What if I was wrong? What if he didn’t believe in us the way I did? What if he turned me away after what I had to tell him tonight?
He ran a hand over my hair, his soft smile as intimate as anything we’d done together in the humid night. “What is it, bellissima?”
I kissed the side of his pec. “You’re so special, Christoph.”
His brow furrowed. “As are you.” He brushed his thumb down the line between my eyes. “Why do you frown? Tell me.”
“I don’t want to ruin things between us,” I admitted on a whisper, my body automatically curling in toward his as if to seek the comfort of his warmth.
“How could you do that, mi amor?”
I studied his intense hazel eyes in the dim light of the room, idly wondering if that was a dominant or recessive gene over my own light brown. “I’m pregnant.”
He froze at my whispered confession, his gaze roaming my face as if he was waiting for the punch line. After a long, painful moment, he finally spoke. “Pregnant?” he whispered back.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as a half dozen positive tests can be.” I put my hand on top of his. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Christoph. You know that, right? I need for you to know that. I’m not that kind of girl.”
Behind us, the sky cracked open with a whole new wrath and the rain began to pound the windows with fists of fury as the wind began to howl violently.
Yet, despite that, Christoph’s face was calm. You wouldn’t know he had any emotion at all as his gaze moved to the ceiling as he took in the news.
After several long moments, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Christoph? Please say something.”
A boom of thunder filled the room just as his hazel eyes, the ones I loved so much because they’d always brought me such comfort, turned back to me. I searched their depths for a clue as to what he was thinking. A hint of understanding, or at the very least, praying I wouldn’t see condemnation or any sense of betrayal.
None of that.
Even more frightening, it was as if he’d erected a wall, and I couldn’t see him anymore.
I moved to rise, prepared to plead my case. “Christoph, please—”
He shook his head, cutting me off. His next words couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d told me he was the Pope. “Marry me, bellissima. Be my wife.”
Eight
Justin
I woke up that morning as the head of security for Texas Congressman Crenshaw. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept me on my toes with the occasional nut jobs who had an ax to grind with the ex-SEAL turned politician.
By lunch, that had all changed.
My boss, Kade, gave me a buzz to let me know Rodrigo would be replacing me and he was moving me up to the big leagues. But after hearing him out, I had to scoff.