Page 93 of She's My Queen

Severio scrunches up his nose, looking a little uncomfortable. Last time he looked uncomfortable, he almost proposed. I want him to be uncomfortable until expressing his gentler side becomes comfortable for him. I want him to show me this side of him whenever, however, he wants, and as often as he wants without restraint, without concealing how he feels.

“I kept the seashell,” he says.

I blink. “Oh. That’s…” I swallow.

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. I was ten. I put it in my pocket, and when we left the island, which I considered our summer vacation, and returned home, I put it in my safekeeping box. It stayed there for another decade, and when I found it, I had someone preserve it, punch a hole in it, and I’ve worn it ever since.”

“Now I feel bad I don’t remember.”

Severio shrugs.

“But I remember a blue-eyed, dark-haired older boy punching Father Thomas in the face.”

“Guilty.”

I try to smile. It works. Not a lot, but I feel the corners of my mouth turn up.

“I saw you at the Gits Hotel in Hungary,” he says. “A coincidence, I assure you. You were with a man.”

“Nothing happened with him,” I rush to say.

“Oh, believe me, Cristina, I know nothing happened.”

I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”

“I took care of it.” Severio stretches, then plucks something from his pocket. He slips it onto my finger. I lift my hand and see a ring. It’s the serpentine one that matches the ring on the necklace. I drop the necklace on the bed and take the big ring from it, holding it between my thumb and forefinger.

“Say yes,” he orders, and lets me slide his ring onto his finger.

I answer with as much of a bark as I can summon. “Woof.”

34

SUPRISE

CRISTINA

Alittle while after I regain consciousness, the pain kicked up again, and I went under morphine, even though I was trying to tell Severio what I remembered of the incident at the church. Once my brain caught up with the urgency of it all, I tried to tell him who cornered me in the church and how it all played out, who the men were, and anything else I could remember.

Severio realized I was in pain again, and he made me stop talking and take pain meds so I could sleep. He shushed me and told me to rest because the business could wait. It warms my heart that he’s making my recovery a priority and putting it before business. It’s a huge tell that he cares about me, even though he never said the three magical words.

He will. He will when he’s good and ready and not a moment sooner, and if I pushed him for it, they wouldn’t mean as much to me as they will when he’s in his element. The uncomfortable one. I want this intimate side of Severio for myself. It is the most beautiful version of him, and I’m honored that he trusts me with it.

“Hey, you want to hear something crazy?” I ask.

He nods, but the door opens, and a man enters.

“Good morning,” the man says from the door. “Is it okay if I come in and examine you before I make a round?”

Severio waves him inside, blue eyes sharp, fixed on the man.

“I’m Dr. Bautista, the surgeon who operated on you.” He’s about five-ten, with dark hair and a kind face that’s instantly likable.

“Hi,” I say.

“I was here last night, but you slept through most of our conversation, I’m afraid. This morning, I’m only going to do a physical, and then I’ll order tests. Based on those, I’ll know your progress. Okay?”

“Okay.”

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