Page 107 of Dangerous Vows

“I’m fine,” she whispers.

“No, you’re not,” I mutter. “And that’s okay.”

I walk to the sink, grab a washcloth, run it under cool water, and gently press it to her forehead. Exhausted, she leans into my touch.

“Stay here,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen, I move like I’ve done this a dozen times—because I have. Ginger ale. Crackers and her favorite blanket on the couch.

I carry everything back in and help her sit against the bathroom wall.

“Here,” I murmur, cracking the seal on the bottle. “Small sips.”

She obeys, her lips brushing the rim of the glass.

Then I place a few crackers in her palm and sit beside her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like armor.

“I hate this part,” she mumbles.

“I know.”

“But I love the reason for it.”

I glance down at her belly, barely showing, but maybe it’s my imagination. All of this feels real, but becoming a father is surreal.

“I do too,” I say quietly as my nose nuzzles her neck.

She leans her head into me, and I hold her tighter.

Even as the world burns around us, this moment, right here, is everything I’d fight for a hundred times over.

PIETRO

BLOOD IN THE AIR

Matteo’s headlights slice through the pouring rain as his SUV pulls up. I knew something was wrong before he even stepped out—it’s late, so that means it’s important. He must have news that needs to be delivered in person. He trudges through the rain, not caring that the rain is soaking his clothes. His stance is tight, and his expression is darker than usual as he strides into the house.

“The doctor’s dead,” he blurts out as he shakes off the rain from his arms and runs his hand through his hair, slicking it back numerous times to keep it from falling under the weight of the water. He’s agitated.

My gut drops. “What?”

“Julie just called,” Matteo says as his voice turns to steel. “The doctor was stabbed in his garage. No media coverage, and of course, no witnesses. It was a clean hit, Pietro. They didn’t want attention—they wanted silence.”

“Amara…” I whispered before I could stop myself.

“They know she’s pregnant,” Matteo confirmed grimly. “And I guarantee you, Miloš knows too.”

I rub a hand down my face as the implications crash down around me. “She told her father, thinking it would put him off on the arranged marriage. I assumed he told Miloš.”

“I think he’s keeping that information to himself. Or he thought she was bluffing.”

We walk into the living room in silence.

“She’s not just my woman anymore. She’s carrying the heir to the Morettis and us.”

“She’s a walking treaty,” Matteo mutters. “And he’s no idiot. Reckless perhaps, but with that baby, he can destroy two empires and wrap himself in a cloak of protection. If he obtains Amara, well, she gives him bulletproof protection. She and your baby are his get-out-of-jail-free card. He’ll have total immunity.”

This is bad. Very bad, and this makes him very dangerous. But as much as his admission floors me, I’m not oblivious to the fact that Amara is listening from the bedroom. She has an uncanny sense of timing, and she’s done it before.

---