Page 183 of Diego

Not gone, but smaller.

Until then, improvement had been something I had to trust was happening because I had stopped bleeding and felt better. Actually seeing the difference made it real. The dark area beside the pregnancy was still visible, but it had shrunk enough that even I could tell it was not the same size it had been in the hospital.

Everything I have been doing over the past couple of weeks is helping.

Dr. Mehta was pleased, although not pleased enough to release me from any of the restrictions that are currently driving me insane. The hematoma is still there, which means I am still supposed to take it easy, avoid exercise and lifting, keep my time on my feet limited, and continue avoiding sex until she clears me.

I had been disappointed by that last part, and I get the feeling Diego was too, but we’ll survive.

I look down at my stomach again and let my palm settle there.

The nightmare is already fading around the edges. The reality is better.

The hematoma is shrinking. The baby is doing well. I am getting better.

With a sigh, I throw the blanket off my legs and swing my feet to the floor, deciding that if the nightmare is going to leave me unsettled, I can at least do something useful with the nervous energy it left behind.

I am hungry.

Emilia is off today, and I have no intention of interrupting Diego while he is working just because I want lunch. I am perfectly capable of finding something for myself in the kitchen.

I change out of my sleep clothes, and even though the clothes I change into are very similarly soft, it makes me feel like I accomplished something.

I take the elevator downstairs, still not ready to try the stairs. I assume Diego is in his office even though I don't hear his voice, but there’s something a bit unsettling about the quiet. I step out onto the main floor, already thinking about what's in the refrigerator and how my stomach is feeling today.

Then I see someone outside.

I stop immediately.

A woman is standing on the terrace with her back mostly toward me, one hand resting on the edge of the outdoor table as she looks toward the lake. I have never seen her before.

For a moment I simply stare because there are enough people moving in and out of Diego’s life that an unfamiliar face should probably not be shocking, but nobody has simply appeared in the house since I got here without him telling me first.

My first instinct is to find him.

I take one step toward the hallway leading to his office and then hesitate, annoyed with myself for feeling uncertain in a house where I have technically been living for two weeks. Before I can decide whether finding Diego is sensible or ridiculous, the woman turns.

She sees me through the glass doors and smiles.

That is when I notice the little boy beside her.

He is standing close to her chair with one chubby little hand wrapped around the arm of it, probably not much older than one or two, and the resemblance hits me almost immediately. He has enough of the Conti look in him that I recognize it despite having only seen Diego and Ricardo. Dark hair, strong little features already beginning to form, but softened by something that clearly comes from his mother.

The woman beside him has chestnut-brown hair and a narrow, elegant face with high cheekbones. Even from several feet away, her gray-green eyes are striking.

I know immediately that this is Victoria.

Mario’s wife.

I have not met her yet, but there is nobody else she could be.

She opens the terrace door and steps inside, keeping one eye on the little boy as he toddles in after her. “You must be Blair.”

Her voice is warm enough that some of the tension in my shoulders releases.

“I am.”

She smiles again. “I’m Victoria. And this is Leonardo.”