Page 55 of Thin Lives

He shouldn't be standing there, watching her.

But he couldn’t move.

Emma started to hum quietly under her breath, still rubbing her stomach with soothing, gentle movements. “I need you to stay in there for a little while longer, Cross. Until your daddy is ready—when he’s back to himself. Okay, bambino? Just a little while longer.”

Cross?

Calisto blinked, taking in the name. Something about it made him want to smile, but it also felt like a heavy weight had landed on his chest. He didn’t know why, though, because he’d never even heard it before.

Guilt compounded hard in Calisto’s emotions. Unable to spy on Emma more than he already had, he knocked gently on the door, cleared his throat for good measure, and pushed it open.

Emma didn’t even look up.

It was almost like she knew he was standing there watching her.

Had she?

“Calisto,” Emma greeted quietly.

With the door fully open, he had a much better view of how little clothing she actually had on. Calisto’s gaze traveled over Emma’s long, shapely legs straight from her bare feet right up to the creaminess of her thighs. The chemise she wore barely reached mid-thigh, and it was low cut enough to showcase her cleavage. His throat tightened, as did his slacks.

Calisto ignored those strange reactions.

This woman was married.

And pregnant.

He had no business being attracted to her.

Clearing the thickness from his voice, Calisto asked, “Would you like a moment to get dressed?”

Emma stood, reaching for a silk robe that hung off a dresser. Her pup barely moved an inch, just stayed happily sleeping by her feet like the dog had nowhere else he would rather be. She quickly pulled on the robe, and tied the sash at her waist.

“I’m fine,” Emma said. “Do you have news about Affonso?”

Calisto raised a brow, unsurprised at the dryness in her tone. She didn’t sound like she cared at all, or that she wanted to know anything.

“Do you care to hear it?”

“He’s my husband.”

“That’s not an answer,” Calisto said.

Emma didn’t break his gaze for a second. “I suspect he’s not dead, or you probably wouldn’t be here. At least, I would think you’d have other things to take care of. I called Cynthia and Michelle’s school. I had their flights booked—they’ll be here in two days. I’m sure Affonso will want his children.”

“He probably will.”

“Yes, well, if that’s all you came for—to tell me that he’s survived the surgeries—you can go.”

Calisto took a step into the small room, not finished in the slightest. He had other things he wanted to know—things that had very little to do with his uncle.

Yet, the second he walked in, he also stopped.

His gaze dropped to the floor.

White marble stared back at him.

Calisto had looked at the floor before—he’d seen white marble.