Page 167 of The Crowned Garza

On family, Saint and I have agreed to wait a while for kids. As it is, with the level of effort it takes for us to spend quality time together, we believe kids will reduce that time to nothing rather than bring us closer together. We’re more keen on strengthening together as a unit.

We’re also fine with not having kids, or adoption if, biologically, it’s too late for me by the time we do decide to start a family. We’ve had long discussions about this and, for now, we’re happily on the same page. We just want to be together.

At some point, our lives will slow down and we will know for certain.

The whirring sound of a drone flies by us.

“She’s obsessed with you, isn’t she?” I watch the drone drift to the west of the island. “What does she think is gonna happen to you out here? Angry seagulls will attack you and roast you in a pit?”

“Just ignore it,” he hums against my neck, slipping one hand inside the flap of my robe to fondle my breasts.

The O is annoyingly overprotective of Saint. Wherever he goes, there they are. Usually invisible or not obvious. For instance, the yachts dotting the sea all around us aren’t just people enjoying the ocean. They’re security. For him. There’s no one after Saint or out to get him. The woman at the helm of the organization is just obsessed with him. Granted, this private island stay is courtesy of her, a wedding gift to us. But I swear sometimes it feels like I’m sharing my husband with another woman.

“You think it’s possible for us to sneak in another week?” I ask on a moan as he pinches my nipple.

“Trust me, I’ve thought about it. But with everything we both have lined up—that we’ve already pushed back for an extra week here—it’s not possible.”

I drop my head back to his shoulder, pushing my ass at his semi. “Bummer.”

“Or we could just go rogue. Run away together. Disappear for a little while.”

Hilarious. “Besides the fact that Red Cage would probably burn to the ground without you, I don’t think there’s anywhere we could hide whereshe”—I point my coffee cup to the drone off in the distance—“wouldn’t find us.”

He hums again, so relaxed, so indolent. “Oh, how little faith my wifehas in me.”

That has me turning in his arms to face him. My heart hiccups when my eyes meet his.

Whenever our gazes connect, the world fades.

Helovesme. He loves me deeply and wholly. He loves me with all of who he is.

I know because his eyes tell me. They hide nothing from me anymore. They’re vulnerable and open and honest and speak to me without words.

The day he stops loving me, I’llknow.

Light of my life. King of my heart. Master of my soul.

“Are you saying you have a ‘great escape plan’ stacked away?”

He merely winks.

“Of frickin’ course you do,” I whisper, grinning back at him. “Tempting as it is, let’s save the great escape plan for when wereallyneed it.”

He bumps his nose to mine. “Agreed.”

I rest the coffee cup on the railing and untie the strings of my robe. “Let’s make the most of our last two days here before we get back to our crazy life.”

His gaze darkens as my robe falls open. “Sì, mia regina. Let’s.”

~