Or maybe both.He’d insulted her a year ago.But tonight, he’d saved her.And Azlyn was one hundred percent certain that SUV parked down the street hadn’t been a coincidence.
Instead of biting back the sharp retort on her tongue, she took a breath and said calmly, “Would it be possible to get some diapers, bottles, and formula for our son?”
Chapter 19
“Our son.”
Zayn felt another wave of stunned joy crash through him.Azlyn wasn’t hiding the truth—she was holding their child openly in her arms.She just… hadn’t told him she was pregnant.
Yeah, he should probably be furious about that.
And maybe later, after the shock wore off, hewouldbe.But right now, all he could think about washis son.The wild, unforgettable passion he and Azlyn had shared a year ago during one of the most chaotic times of his life had created something extraordinary—a perfect, sweet little boy.
“Zayn?”Azlyn prompted gently.
He startled slightly, dragging his gaze away from the baby to meet her eyes.“I’m sorry?”
“Diapers,” she repeated.“And bottles.Formula.He’s curious now, looking around and taking everything in.But soon, he’s going to get hungry.”She sighed.“I breastfeed, but it’s never enough.”
Zayn barely heard her past the wordbreast.Instantly, uninvited images of Azlyn’s body filled his head—specifically,those.They’d been perfect.And they looked fuller now.Was that from nursing?From pregnancy?
What had she looked like while pregnant?
His entire body tensed, caught in the flood of images.He ached with the knowledge that he’d missed it.Missedeverything.She must have been gorgeous—soft, lush, glowing as she carried their child.
“Zayn!”she snapped, her tone sharper now.
He blinked, then cleared his throat, realizing far too late that he’d been blatantly staring at her chest.
“Right.Yes.Absolutely.I’ll get you everything you need.”
“Thank you,” she replied softly, then looked down at their son.“This is Griffin.He’s eleven weeks old.”
A thousand questions surged through his mind.What was the pregnancy like?How much does he weigh?Does he have ten fingers and ten toes?But only one came out:
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
Azlyn sighed and looked down at the baby again, avoiding his eyes.Zayn followed her gaze, feeling a tight ache in his chest as he watched their son wriggle in her arms.That ache quickly shifted into longing.
He wanted to hold him.To feel his weight in his arms.To see if he would stop crying inhisembrace, the way he had quieted when Azlyn held him.
Griffin babbled happily, kicking his legs and smiling up at his mother.He tried to stand on her lap—his tiny legs not quite strong enough—but clearly eager to explore his world.
“You’ll want a paternity test, I’m sure,” Azlyn said quietly.
Paternity?It hadn’t even crossed his mind—not truly.Thecountrywould require proof, of course.But Zayn didn’t need one.There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his soul.Heknewthis was his son.Maybe it was because he knew Azlyn—knew the honesty in her eyes.Or maybe it was the echo of their past, the passion that had sparked the life now wriggling in her arms.
Before he could answer, the door behind him opened.He turned as one of his guards entered, carrying a large bag stuffed with diapers, clothes, bottles, and several containers of what Zayn assumed was formula.
Another followed with a box under one arm—flat-packed and labeled with a picture of a bassinet.
“The hotel didn’t have a bassinet?”Azlyn asked dryly.
Zayn chuckled.Of course she’d notice the detail.“I don’t think the guards want anyone in the hotel to know there’s an infant up here.Until we can get you back to Lativa, Griffin’s presence has to remain a secret.”
“We’re not going to Lativa,” Azlyn replied lightly, tickling the baby’s tummy until he giggled and latched onto a stray curl that had dislodged from the band holding the rest of Azlyn’s lustrous hair.
“Wearetaking our son back to my country,” Zayn said, his voice firm.
