Page 90 of Beauty and the Daddy
"I'm not worried," I say, easy. I'm fucking guilty.
Something tells me if I hadn't been in Luca's world, he would've seen this attack coming a mile away. But Luca's got enough on his plate, and I don't need to add another conversation to it tonight.
Once we'rein Sofia's room, Meatball and Bruno, too, Sofia asks if we can watch a movie.
"In a minute," Luca says, eyes still on me.
Sofia pats the bed beside her. "Belle, sit."
I sit.
Luca just watches me with those eyes. "You ok taking care of her?"
I nod.
He nods back.
"You won't stay, Daddy?" Sofia huffs.
"Daddy's got to work. I'm sure you both are hungry. I'll have the staff send up some food."
"Can I have pancakes?"
"You can have pancakes," he says, smiling in a way that reminds me why I go weak around him.
"And you?" He turns to look at me.
"Sure. Same." I don't bother saying I'm not hungry. Sofia can eat my share, too.
I'm nauseous as it is, and if I so much as smell anything, I'll see stars in a bad way. Morning sickness is a liar with no respect for clocks. It shows up when it wants, which apparently includes nine at night after gunfights.
We do a movie. Some animated classic. Sofia's head drops to my thigh before the second act. I tell myself if I just sit still long enough, peace will seep into me like tea. It doesn't.
At some point, Luca checks on the world and comes back to tell me to go to bed.
"I've got her," he says and insists I go to bed like a naughty little girl.
By the timedawn peels the night off, the house feels like it's been revamped. There are more men than I can count and every corner looks dangerous.
But I'm starving and need something to eat before I faint.
The kitchen smells like heaven. Normally I'd float, smile, steal a spoonful, kiss whoever made it. Today, one step inside and my stomach files a formal complaint.
Forget about the goddamn eggs.
I pivot like a figure skater and make it to the nearest bathroom in time to hurl my guts out. The baby has very strong opinions about eggs.
Noted.
The door creaks. Tiny footsteps. "Belle?"
I squeeze my eyes closed.Dear God, please let her not think anything of this.I turn and it's Sofia, all big eyes and worry, hugging my waist from behind like she can anchor me to feel better by force of will.
"Don't worry," she whispers into my back. "I won't tell Daddy."
That sentence is a little bomb. I sit back on my heels, wipe my mouth, and face her. "Tell Daddy what?"
She blinks like I'm cute. "I'm going to be a sister, right?"
