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“You're not going to be fat, you're going to be growing our babies. You're going to look beautiful, even more beautiful than you are now.” I turn us so we’re facing the mirror head-on. “And I’ll be sure to show you my gratitude for it every day. Let me take care of you through this. Let me make this as easy as it can be. Hey, you can even hate me the whole time.” I hold up my hands defensively because suddenly none of my own feelings matter. I just want to make her happy.
“Will you do that for me?” I slide my hand into the front of her jeans and stroke my finger against her sensitive flesh.
“Dario, that's not fair.” She shakes her head as her eyes pierce me through our reflection.
“I don’t play fair, you already know that.” I make tiny circles against her clit, and when she rests her head back against my shoulder and moans, I feel a relief of my own. Madalina can be as mad at me as she likes, but she can’t resist the way I make her feel, and I get a sick sense of comfort out of knowing that.
“Answer the question. Will you let me take care of you?” I ask again, needing to hear her say yes.
“Yes,” she whispers, and when I slip one of my fingers inside her to reward her answer, she mewls like a satisfied kitten.
“Good girl.” I smile against her cheek before I kiss it and make her come.
MADALINA
SIX WEEKS LATER
Ilie still in bed, with Dario’s arm wrapped under my hips and his head resting on my stomach where he fell asleep last night. Reaching over to the nightstand, I pick up the sonogram picture. Looking at the two little babies that are growing inside me puts a warm feeling in my chest.
I won’t admit to Dario that I’m starting to feel affection towards them. I’m still mad at him for what he did, but as I stare at the picture in my hand and wonder how big they’ve gotten over the past few weeks I can’t help feeling blessed that they are there.
“Morning.” Dario kisses my stomach, twice, before crawling up my body and slipping his tongue between my lips.
I don’t respond. I’m still making things difficult for him, and I’m pleasantly surprised at how tolerant he’s been. Maybe he will make a good father after all.
“Did you message Serena back last night?” He looks a little disappointed as he gets out of bed and pulls on his sweatpants.
“No,” I admit, feeling guilty for cutting my family out, theway I have. I just don’t feel like I can face them yet. I’m not ready for people to know about these babies. I don’t want to be congratulated and fussed over, it will make what Dario did seem justifiable to him.
“You should, it's been a long time since we saw them. Your father cares for you very much.”
“Enough to marry me to you,” I point out, pushing his newfound patience a little further.
“You can’t pretend to hate me forever,” he points out heading to the wardrobe and picking me out something to wear.
“I’m not pretending.” I shrug.
“Oh, yes? Well, if you hate me so much, why do you allow me to hold you every night while you sleep? And why do you always look so satisfied after we fuck?” He rests his ass on the desk and gives me that smug look of his.
“Because...” I stand up and move toward him, making sure my lips are close to his but not touching. “I’m your wife, and you always get what you want,” I whisper before picking my own damn clothes out the wardrobe and getting myself changed.
“You can’t just ignore them, they will think I'm mistreating you.” He follows me down the stairs refusing to give up on this and when I spin around and look up at him, the frown he gives me dares me to say what he knows I’m thinking.
“I don’t want to face them yet, and this is getting harder to hide.” I look down at my stomach and even I have to admit that it’s starting to expand. I guess that's what happens when you get railroaded with twins.
“Then don’t hide it.” Dario frames my tiny little bump in his hands proudly. “It looks good on you.” The boyish grin he makes as he stares down at it almost makes me forget that I’m mad at him.
“We spoke about this, it’s our secret while I’m still coming to terms with it.”
“I heard you talking to them.” He’s still grinning when he lifts his eyes back up to mine. “The other night when you were in the bath, I heard you telling them that their father was an overbearing asshole.”
“That's because youarean overbearing asshole, you checked the temperature of that water twice before you let me get in it,” I point out before turning around and continuing down the stairs.
“I didn’t want you getting too hot and passing out.” He chases after me. “It still doesn’t change the fact you were talking to them. You're coming to terms with the fact they are in there, and it’s going to get easier. Soon, you’ll feel them moving around and it will be even more real.”
I don’t tell him that I’ve already felt tiny flutters in the pit of my stomach that I’m sure is the babies reminding me they are there. It’s just in my imagination.
“I’ll speak to my dad and Serena, just not today,” I promise. “ Please don’t pressure me. Stress isn’t good for the spawn of Satan.” I tap my tummy and smile sarcastically before stepping into the dining room.
