Page 9 of Their UnBearable Destiny

Shehad been growling.

A growl that had turned into a moan.

And it was all his fault.

Well, his fault and her bear, who was apparently determined to climb all over him before the night was over. Even when she told that bear exactly who was in charge. Yeah, her bear didn’t listen to her either.

She started to open her mouth to speak with him but ended up a hair shy of snapping at him. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

He gave the plate a few swipes and then set it in the drainer alongside the others. “It’s kind of an unfair question, don’t you think? You ask me what you’re thinking. And, even if I get it right, you’ll deny it. Tell me what you’re thinking, or don’t,” he paused for a moment and then continued on before she could argue. “It is your choice, Ana. It was always your choice. And one that I respected.” His hand reached out and hung the drying cloth on a little loop hanging under the cupboards. He didn’t turn around and she knew why.

Or at least she thought she knew.

“I’m not expecting that things have changed between us through the years, Ana. I am only asking for a chance to show you the man I’ve become.”

It was too good to be true. Felt like another carrot dangling in front of her. At any moment, it could be yanked away. But if time had proved anything to Emiliana, it was that she couldn’t seem to learn not to hope. And here he was, saying things were different.

She didn’t think he was lying. Uberto had never been that. Blunt and honest to the point of putting her in a murderous rage? Sure. But not a liar. So, she opened the door even when she knew it would likely slam right in her face.

“Show me then,” she blew out a soft breath between her lips, struggling to keep her voice calm, “tell me about Allegra.”

When she looked up at him she saw his smile, nearly a smirk, but still holding on a smile.

“What?” She fought off the tight feeling in her chest, worrying how deep inside of her he could see.

Reaching for his phone on the counter, he unlocked it and walked closer, opening an app as he went. When he reached her side, he handed her the phone. The woman in the picture was playing a cello, her face marked with a blissful smile. Her fingers arched onto the neck of the instrument as her bow sang across the strings. Even though the photo was a still image, she swore she could almost hear the music that surrounded her.

Blinking at the image she turned in her chair and looked up at Uberto beside her. “That’s Allegra?”

He looked back at her. “What?”

She wanted to ask him but shook her head, deciding to stay quiet. “Nothing.”

Uberto’s expression spoke volumes, but he had the grace, or was it the self-preservation, to keep quiet. Looking at his phone he swiped his finger across the screen and showed her the next photo. The same woman held lightly in Valerio’s arms, seated on his lap.

She brought the phone closer to her face, looking at the details in the image. The woman’s eyes were unfocused and yet, filled with joy. And even though Valerio looked at the camera, she could feel his attention focused on the woman in his arms, one arm securely wrapped around her back, his other hand was gently splayed over her belly.

It was easy to see that Allegra had lush curves normally, but the swell of her belly under Valerio’s hand spoke volumes.

“When,” her throat pinched off her air for a moment, “when is she due?”

Uberto’s gaze turned inward for a moment as he sought the answer. “In two months if Natale’s cub was anything to go by.”

“Natale,” she hedged, “is Salvatore’s mate? The fashion designer from Durante?”

He nodded and took the phone back for a moment to switch albums. He handed her the phone and pulled a chair up beside her. “Here.” He tapped the edge of the camera at the rosy cheeked baby. “That’s Amara. She’s got ‘Tore wrapped around her fingers and toes. There’s nothing her Papa Bear won’t do for his little cub.”

Along with her frank perusal of the image on the screen, she absorbed the sound of Uberto’s voice. She wasn’t sure, but she could almost feel a longing in her heart, but not her own.

Uberto looked down at the baby and the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a soft smile. “She’s something special, our Amara.”

Our Amara.

She knew that feeling in her chest wasn’t her own. It was his.

He didn’t even look at her when he swept the photo aside and changed to the next photo. His brothers and their mates sitting easily together around a picnic spread under the trees. Seated in Natale’s lap, was her little girl, smiling wide enough to show her toothless grin.

“It’s different now,” he spoke to her without looking at her, his gaze focused still on the picture. “When we moved to America. We worked hard,” he laughed, “so hard, we rarely had a moment to think outside of our jobs. We built our business not just for us but for everyone here as well.”

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