AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One month later
I feel jittery and restless, waiting for Salvatore to come home from his last meeting. We’re heading into the city tonight for the wedding tomorrow, and I’m ready for all of this to be over with.
With every day that’s passed over the last month, my fears that things will go back to the way they were before our honeymoon between Salvatore and me have dimmed. Nothing has changed. He’s been caring and protective without smothering me, keeping me informed about the Bratva and the upcoming wedding, and he’s given me everything I could possibly want in bed. The house has been mine to decorate freely, and his wealth mine to spend however I please in that endeavor. It’s kept my mind occupied over the past month, keeping me from thinking too hard about the upcoming wedding and the possibility that something could still go wrong, and Salvatore has kept me occupied the remainder of the time.
I no longer worry about him wanting me. But I do wonder whether he’ll ever be able to tell me that he loves me—or how long it will take. The words have been on the tip of my tongue for a while now, but I don’t want to be the one to say them first. I want him to give that to me, and I’m willing to wait for it. I can feel him holding back, and I’m hoping that it’s all this mess with the Bratva that’s keeping him from telling me how he feels. That when it’s over, he’ll tell me what I want so badly to hear.
With a sigh, I set my suitcase on the bed, pausing for a second as a wave of dizziness followed by nausea washes over me. I put one hand on the foot of the bed, taking a deep, slow breath, and I’m so focused on not throwing up that I don’t hear Salvatore walk into the room.
“Are you alright, tesoro?”
I jump, letting out a small squeak, and turn to face him. “Yes,” I tell him quickly. “Just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all. It’s probably stress.”
Salvatore doesn’t ask me what I could possibly be stressed about—he doesn’t need to. He knows as well as I do that I’m not looking forward to going to my former fiancé’s wedding—the fiancé that was thrown out of the church before Salvatore dragged me in front of the altar himself. I’m no longer angry at him over that. Still, it doesn’t change the circumstances of how we began, and it doesn’t make seeing Pyotr again any easier.
“The stress will be over this time tomorrow, tesoro,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head lightly. “In the meantime, I’m going to call Leah and have her come up and help you pack. You can tell her what you want to bring.”
“I’m fine—” I start to protest, but Salvatore shakes his head, gently pressing a finger to my lips.
“Don’t argue, Gia,” he murmurs. “In fact, I’m going to tell Leah to draw you a bath, and you can relax while she packs. I want you well-rested before this.”
I can hear the protective note in his voice, a tone I’ve gotten used to hearing, and I don’t argue. It’s strange, sometimes, how that dynamic has changed between us. I no longer want to fight him tooth and nail on everything, because I trust now that he means well, even when his protective instincts grate a little against my desire for independence. I know he wants to take care of me and keep me safe, and because I trust him now, that fills me with warmth instead of making me want to fly into a rage.
“Alright,” I agree, and I see his eyebrow go up.
“Maybe you are feeling ill,” he teases, even though it’s been a while now since I’ve fought him on every little thing. But he enjoys reminding me that once upon a time, I did, if only because I think he enjoys getting a bit of a rise out of me.
I narrow my eyes at him, about to fling a retort back, only for another wave of dizziness to hit me. I weave on my feet a little, briefly wondering if I can somehow leverage this to get out of going to the wedding entirely, but I know that’s not fair. Salvatore needs me there, to put on a united front for the Bratva deal, and I want to support him. If his duty is to protect me as my husband, then that’s mine, as his wife.
“Gia.” There’s a faint note of worry in his voice as he guides me to the bed, picking up the phone to call Leah. “Just sit down for a minute.”
Ten minutes later, I’m neck-deep in a hot, steaming bath that smells like rich vanilla oil, while Leah follows a list that I dictated to her for packing. I feel a flicker of guilt that she’s handling all of it, but Salvatore does pay her for that, and the bath is helping. The dizziness has mostly worn off, replaced with a tiredness that makes me wish I could just go to bed instead of us driving into the city tonight.
By the time I get out, I find that Salvatore had dinner sent up to the room, a covered tray waiting for me. My bags are packed and set neatly by the door, and Salvatore is nowhere to be seen—probably downstairs in his office finalizing details for the trip. I feel a faint glow of intimacy at how used to each other’s routines we’ve become, and I sit down on the bed to eat what I can, feeling especially cared for by that gesture.
I know how Salvatore feels about me. I’m just looking forward to him feeling as if he can say it.
The nausea returns after I eat—necessitating asking Leah to bring me up a ginger ale—and I opt for black leggings and a long dove-grey silk tunic-style shirt with ankle boots, instead of something sexier for the drive. I’d had visions of wearing a short skirt and getting up to all kinds of fun with Salvatore in the back of the car, but just now, I don’t feel like I’m capable of anything more than a nap.
Salvatore notices, when I come downstairs. He’s waiting in the foyer, our bags already taken out to the car, and he immediately loops his arm through mine when I reach his side. “You look a little pale,” he says concernedly. “We’ll check into our hotel as soon as we get to the city, and you can get a good night’s sleep. You look like you need it.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him dryly as he leads me out to the car, but I know he’s worried about me. I feel sure that it’s just stress, until we get into the car and I look for a champagne flute to pour myself a glass.
“Are you sure you should drink that?” Salvatore frowns, his brow creasing. “What if you’re pregnant?”
I pause, my hand halfway to the glass, a sudden burst of excitement jolting through me. I hadn’t thought about it, despite the fact that Salvatore and I have been having enough sex over the past month to get me pregnant three times over—probably because I have been so distracted that I’d put it to the back of my head. But now the possibility seems sudden and immediate, and I look at him, a hopeful expression on my face.
“You think so?”
“Well, if not, then I guess I really am going to have to keep you tied to that bed,” Salvatore says wryly, pulling his phone out. He starts to type out a message, and I look at him curiously.
“What are you doing?”
He glances up at me. “Texting my assistant. There’ll be a pregnancy test waiting for you at the hotel room when we get there.”
I blink at him, a sudden, soft warmth filling me. I can hear the hope in his voice, too—a hope that I once wondered if I’d ever hear, and hearing it now gives me faith that eventually, I’ll hear the rest of what he feels for me, too.
I find myself hoping that once we get to the hotel and I take the test, it will be positive. This is exactly what we need before tomorrow, I think to myself as I lean back against the seat, feeling exhausted all over again. Something to look forward to, together, when this is all over.
