Page 52 of The Mafia's Septuplets
I look at the neatly arranged food and feel my composure cracking. The kindness is exactly what I don’t need right now because it makes the tears I’ve been fighting threaten to spill over completely. “Thank you, but I’m not really hungry.” My voice sounds strained even to my own ears. “I think I need to lie down for a while.”
She studies my face with quiet concern. “Are you feeling unwell? Should I call Dr. Layton?”
“No, I’m just tired. Pregnancy fatigue.” I stand up too quickly, and the room tilts slightly. “I’ll be fine after some rest.”
“Of course. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.” She begins gathering the scattered fabric pieces. “Rest is more important than work right now.”
I climb the stairs to Iskander’s bedroom and close the door behind me, finally allowing myself to fall apart in private. Thetears come harder now, born from a combination of hormones, fear, and frustration that I can’t seem to control.
I curl up on the bed we share, surrounded by his scent and the warmth of expensive linens, but it’s not enough to quiet the panic building in my chest. Seven babies. How do I carry seven babies to term? How do I survive the delivery? How do I care for seven infants without losing myself completely?
The questions circle endlessly through my mind, each one bringing new waves of terror that make my breathing shallow and rapid. My chest constricts like someone’s pressing down on my ribs, and I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I’m having another panic attack, and Iskander isn’t here to help me through it.
An hour passes before I hear his footsteps in the hallway. He enters the bedroom looking haggard and exhausted, his usually perfect hair disheveled and his shirt wrinkled. Dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and there’s tension in his shoulders that speaks of constant stress. “Willa?” He takes in my tear-stained face and immediately crosses to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know where to start.” The words come out in a rush. “I can’t concentrate at work, I don’t know if I can trust Eve with important tasks, I’m falling behind on everything, and I’m terrified about the babies.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his arms, his familiar warmth immediately soothing some of my anxiety. “Tell me about the babies. What’s frightening you?”
“All of it. The pregnancy, the delivery, and what comes after.” I bury my face against his chest, breathing in his scent. “What ifI can’t carry them even to thirty-two weeks? What if something goes wrong during the C-section? What if I die and leave seven orphaned babies?”
He tightens his arms around me. “You’re not going to die.”
“You don’t know that. The doctor said there are risks with multiples and complications that could happen at any time.” The panic builds again as I voice my fears. “What if my body can’t handle this? What if I’m not strong enough?”
“I have no doubt about your strength and ability to do this.” He tilts my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. “You survived the foster system, built a successful career, and inherited a business you’re learning to run while pregnant with seven babies. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”
“But what if I can’t? What if?—”
He silences me with a gentle kiss, his lips soft against mine. When we break apart, his expression is more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen it. “You want to know the truth? I’m terrified too. Not just about the delivery, but about being a father to seven children, and whether I can protect all of you. Mostly, I wonder if I’m capable of the kind of love they’ll need with my own father as my only role model.”
His honesty breaks something in me, bringing a new wave of tears, but they’re quieter and less explosive now. “You’re already protecting us. You’re already loving them.”
“Am I? Most of the time, I feel like I’m failing at everything that matters.”
I reach up to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble beneath my fingers. “You’re not failing. You’re learning, just like I am.”
“I don’t want you to face any of this alone.” He leans into my touch. “I’m here for everything, the good and the bad.”
The simple promise unleashes something desperate inside me. I pull him down for another kiss, this one hungry and demanding. He responds immediately, fisting his hands in my hair as our mouths meet with desperate desire.
“I need you,” I whisper against his lips. “I need to feel close to you.”
“Always.” He kisses me again, deeper this time. “You never have to ask.”
My fingers work at the buttons of his shirt while his hands slide under my sweater, finding warm skin that makes me gasp at the contact. The fabric falls away piece by piece until we’re skin to skin, and the sensation of his chest against my breasts sends electricity through my entire body.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is rough with desire as he strokes his hands along the subtle changes pregnancy has brought to my figure. “Your body is incredible, carrying our children.”
The possessive words make me arch against him, craving more contact. “Touch me everywhere. I need to feel you.”
He lifts me onto the bed and follows me down, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. I thread my fingers through his dark hair, holding him close as he works his way down my throat with lips, tongue, and gentle teeth.
When he reaches my breasts, he cups them carefully while brushing his thumbs over nipples that have become more sensitive with pregnancy. “These are fuller now,” he murmurs against my skin. “More responsive.”
He takes one nipple between his lips, circling it with his tongue until I’m arching beneath him with soft cries. The sensation shoots straight to my pussy, making me ache for his touch there too. He lavishes the same attention on its twin, his teeth grazing gently while his hand explores the curve of my waist.
“I love watching you respond to me.” He presses kisses down my ribs, his stubble creating delicious friction against my skin. “The way your breath catches and the little sounds you make are captivating.”