Page 69 of Twisted Vows

Chapter 19

Emma Lanza

I wake clear-headed and alertfor the first time in ages, so when nausea hits me as I sit up, I scramble over Fiero’s massive body and make it to the toilet before I lose the contents of my stomach. The band around my stomach only tightens as memories of Narciso’s final moments flash through my mind.

I murdered someone. It’s not the same as losing a patient. Now I’m no better than all the other criminals I’ve fought so hard to escape over the years.

Except as Fiero gathers my hair into his fist and rubs my shoulder, my regrets vanish.

I am not the same as Seppi Capito or my father. Neither is my husband.

I won’t fool myself and say Fiero hasn’t done some horrific things in his life, but his purpose sets him apart. He has his own moral code. Hell, just the way Tristan acts like a normal kid around him proves he isn’t the monster his brother is.

I spit, wipe my mouth with toilet paper, and accept Fiero’s help to the sink. After rinsing out my mouth and loading my toothbrush with toothpaste, I meet my husband’s eyes through our reflections. The concern on his face awakens butterflies in my stomach.

I scowl, tell him I’m fine, and pop my toothbrush into my mouth to scrub my teeth and tongue with way too much vigor.

He offers me a crooked smirk and kisses me on the top of the head before reaching around me to brush his teeth, too.

Emotions hit me. I don’t have names for them all, but tears flood my eyes. I hide my face in the sink as I rinse out my mouth. When the emotions only grow, I blindly drop my toothbrush back into the holder and splash water on my face.

I want to see his toothbrush next to mine every morning. I need him in my bed every night. I can’t imagine dinner without him there to feed me. I never want to walk the city streets without his protective arm around my shoulders.

I love Fiero Capito.

The realization should terrify me, but it doesn’t.

He passes me the towel when I finally turn off the water. I squeak as he turns me around by my hips and pins me against the sink. In the blink of an eye, he surrounds and overwhelms me. I lower the towel just enough to peek at him over the terrycloth.

He quirks a brow. I scowl and swat his uninjured arm with the towel.

“You’re such an ass. I just vomited my lungs out and you’re spinning me around like a top? Real smooth, mafia man,” I grumble with much less heat than I intend.

He doesn’t take the bait.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Worry shines from his eyes as he searches my expression.

“Is it morning sickness?”

The hope he tries to hide behind his tough exterior destroys my initial reaction to scoff and smack him. My heart hurts as I shake my head. The chemical imbalance of depression makes for some strange side effects, but my menses are still on track. I’llprobably start bleeding in the next day or two. I dread seeing the look on his face when I tell him.

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

“Then why’d you throw up?”

I shrug.

“Not good enough,mia caramellina. Use your words.”

I roll my eyes and push his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. Not even an inch.

“Death isn’t new to me, but killing someone is, so give me a break,” I snarl.

His gaze dips to my lips before he grabs my nape and pulls me tighter against him.

---