Page 102 of Ruthless Desire

The possessive worry that floods me is all-consuming. She is MINE. Mine to protect, mine to care for, mine to nurse back to health. No one else gets to see her vulnerable. No one else gets to touch her.

I push the car faster, the needle climbing past 100. If this is some ploy by my enemies, they'll pay. I'll raze this whole fucking city to the ground if anyone's harmed a hair on her head.

As I race back to the villa, my thoughts spiral. What if it's not just a sickness? What if... My hands tighten on the steering wheel as a new possibility emerges. Could she be pregnant? The thought sends a jolt of something primal through me – pride, possession, an overwhelming need to claim and protect.

A dark smile curves my lips as I imagine Natalie swollen with my child. Oh, my beautiful, stubborn raven. You might have just given me the ultimate gift without even realizing it.

I press down harder on the accelerator. Whatever's wrong with Natalie, I need to be there. Need to see her, touch her, make sure she's safe.

The hunt may be over for now, but a new challenge is just beginning. And I'll be damned if I let anything – sickness, enemies, or Natalie's own stubbornness – come between me and what's mine.

Enzo better have called a doctor. The best one money can buy. Because if anything happens to Natalie... well, there won't be a force on Earth that can stop the hell I'll unleash.

I'm coming, solnyshko. Hold on.

The tires screech as I pull into the villa's driveway. I'm out of the car before it fully stops, striding towards the entrance with purpose. Enzo meets me at the door, his usually calm demeanor tinged with worry.

"Boss," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Where is she?" I demand, already moving past him.

"Upstairs. The doctor's with her now."

I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding a violent rhythm against my ribs. When I reach our bedroom, I pause, hand on the doorknob. For the first time in years, I feel something dangerously close to fear.

I push it down, steeling myself before entering.

Natalie's lying on the bed, pale and small against the dark sheets. The doctor, a grave-faced man I vaguely recognize, looks up as I enter.

"Mr. Corleone," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "I was just finishing up."

I ignore him, moving straight to Natalie's side. Her eyes are closed, lashes dark against her too-pale cheeks. "Solnyshko," I murmur, taking her hand. It's cool to the touch, and I have to resist the urge to bring it to my lips.

Her eyes flutter open, focusing on me with effort. "Dante," she whispers, and the relief in her voice sends a jolt through me. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here," I growl, stroking her cheek. "Where else would I be when you need me?"

She manages a weak smile, and I feel something in my chest constrict. I turn to the doctor, my voice hard. "Well? What's wrong with her?"

The doctor clears his throat. "It appears to be a severe case of food poisoning, Mr. Corleone. Nothing life-threatening, but she'll need rest and fluids."

I nod, processing. Food poisoning. Not pregnancy, not an attack by my enemies. Just a mundane, ordinary illness. The relief is overwhelming, quickly followed by irritation. How dare her body betray her like this? Betray me?

"And you're sure it's not..." I trail off, my eyes flicking to Natalie's stomach.

The doctor follows my gaze, understanding dawning on his face. "Ah, no, sir. There's no indication of pregnancy at this time."

I feel Natalie tense beside me, her hand twitching in mine. I squeeze it gently, a reminder of my presence, my control.

"Thank you, doctor," I say, my tone making it clear he's dismissed. "I'll take it from here."

Once we're alone, I turn my full attention to Natalie. She looks fragile, vulnerable in a way that both infuriates and intoxicates me.

"You had me worried, solnyshko," I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "Don't ever do that again."

She attempts to roll her eyes, but the effect is ruined by her obvious exhaustion. "Yes, because I planned this," she mutters.

I chuckle, dark and low. "There's my feisty little raven. Already feeling better, I see."

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