Page 14 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

Emma was sure of it.

After what happened the last time …

She stopped her thoughts by biting on her inner cheek,refusing to go there again. This was not the place or time for her to cry.Affonso hated emotions—he despised an emotional woman even more. It would doher no good to become overwhelmed at a party that was supposed to be a happyoccasion for Affonso and her.

“Your eyes are even tired,” Affonso murmured, reachingup to stroke her cheek with two fingers. “I can see it. Go up to bed, hmm?”

Emma did all she could do not to cringe and move awayfrom the man’s hand. She didn’t like it when he touched her as if he cared, orwith any affection. None of it was real. Affonso’s fondness only went as far asher ability to behave and put on a good show.

She wasn’t stupid.

The eyes were watching. People were surveying theirquiet exchange at the front of the room, gauging the husband doting on hisnewly pregnant, and very young wife. Somehow, Emma managed another smile forAffonso.

It took everything she had to do it.

“I think I will,” she said quietly.

“They’ll all be gone soon enough. Get my child somerest, sweetheart.”

Emma responded with a nod, but she couldn’t get out ofthe room fast enough once Affonso turned his back to her.

Emma’s favorite room in the large, three-level Donatihome was her own personal walk-in closet. Affonso had his own, located on theopposite side from hers that connected to their master bedroom. He rarely, ifever, entered her space. The marble floors, white walls, large mirrors, andpale leather furniture reminded her of the penthouse she had been forced toleave behind in Las Vegas when she married Affonso.

She could sit on the oversized, white leather stool,let her bare feet hit the cold marble, close her eyes, and pretend that she wassomewhere else for the moment. When she opened her eyes back up and stared intothe vanity mirror lit up with bright lights, all she could see staring back inthe reflection was herself.

There was no Emma Donati there.

No mob boss’s wife.

No purchased bride.

Just Emma.

Emmy.

Bending down, Emma undid the clasp on the ankle of herkitten heels. After the spell she’d had four months ago shortly after thewedding, Affonso had demanded she put away the high heels if she becamepregnant again. He did approve of the kitten heels, thankfully. She had beenwearing a pair of her favorite Dolce & Gabbana heels when the white noisestarted to rush in her ears, everything went fuzzy in the corners of hervision, and she lost her breath with the first pain.

Then, after she had hit the floor in the middle of thekitchen, she felt the wetness on her wool dress. Red had smeared between herfingertips when she felt between her thighs to find where the blood was comingfrom.

Emma remembered very little after that.

She’d lost the baby. The doctors hadn’t given her aclear explanation as to why the pregnancy terminated itself, or what might bewrong. They simply said it was more frequent than most people knew for firstpregnancies to end in miscarriage. The fact that she had been in the very earlyweeks of the pregnancy meant she would heal fast and probably conceive againwithout issue.

Emma was terrified it was going to happen again.

She remembered sitting on the toilet two weeks afterher wedding and staring at the test in her hand. Two pinks lines had brighteneda window almost immediately, confirming what she had believed for almost a weekbefore she had gained up enough courage to take a pregnancy test. Her fingershad trembled as she did the math in her head, knowing that at that point, shehad already been a week late for her period.

There was no possible way Affonso could have been thefather.

So she hid it from him.

A week later, she took another test and brought itdown to show her husband over breakfast. Affonso had been excited, joyful even.He’d tried to spoil her relentlessly for the week that followed, but Emma tookhis actions with a grain of salt and faked her own interest.

When she miscarried, Affonso barely looked twice ather. He didn’t say a word when she explained what the doctors said she shoulddo, and how long the bleeding might last. It wasn’t until her husband thoughtshe was back to normal that he came back to their bed at night, demanding andtaking.

Emma participated, but barely.

She just wanted it to be over.