Page 60 of Where the Wind Whispers

Kaz tensed. He already intended to visit the Italian next once he had everything set up, but he was more than willing to speed up those plans should there be a need. The last thing he’d ever let that man do was jeopardize his unborn child.

Reading his expression, Violet shook her head. “Don’t do something stupid, not now. I need you—we need you.”

She laid a hand on her stomach, drawing first his gaze there, then his hand. But it wasn’t enough for him to just lay it where hers rested. Instead, he dove beneath the fabric of the blazer and dress she was wearing until he could touch the gentle curve there.

One wouldn’t know she was carrying his child just by looking at her, but as soon as he got his hand on her, on the slight hardness there, it thrilled him in a way nothing else could.

“For now,” he said, contenting himself with the feel of her.

But it wouldn’t be long before he went after Alberto.

Not long at all.

On the surface, it seemed nothing had changed since Violet left the new home she shared with Kaz. The floors were clean, nothing was out of place, and the stainless steel refrigerator didn’t boast a single fingerprint.

A maid, Kaz explained.

He’d hired one, apparently, or maybe it was two.

She wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t that she didn’t listen while he talked, because she did hear him, but Violet was somewhere else entirely. The whole situation seemed a little … surreal.

She walked back into their home, and it was like she never left. She’d noticed that not one thing was different when she’d walked through the halls to their bedroom to change her clothes.

Violet hadn’t expected that at all.

Maybe it was almost a little too perfect.

“Violet.”

She pulled open the refrigerator door, peering in to see what was there. Surprisingly, it was well stocked with all sorts of things. She pulled out a few items, setting them aside on the counter to make something to eat.

“Hey, we can order something in for tonight,” she heard Kaz say.

“I’d rather cook.”

“All right.”

So that’s exactly what she did. While Kaz milled about, constantly watching her and saying very little, Violet made supper.

Because that felt normal.

It seemed right.

Violet had just shoved the casserole dish into the oven and closed the door when Kaz came up behind her. The light press of his hand to her hip shattered the surreal sensation of Violet’s world. It brought her back from that cloud of haziness and put her feet back on the ground.

It had all happened.

It wasn’t some insane dream that she’d woken up from.

She had left—she survived—and she was back.

“Are you going to talk?” Kaz asked. “Maybe tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Violet blinked, staring blankly at the light above the oven. “How often does the maid come?”

“Often enough.”