I lift her onto our bed, following her down onto silk sheets that smell like her perfume. The moonlight streaming through our windows paints her skin silver, and I take my time exploring every inch of her changing body.
I’ve never been a man who believed in happiness. Survival, success, power—those things made sense. But happiness felt like weakness, like something that could be taken away.
Now I understand the difference. Happiness isn’t weakness—it’s fuel and it’s what makes everything else worth fighting for.
42
KASI
“The Munich distributioncenters will be operational by November,” I tell Klaus as we wrap up our video conference. “All permits have been approved, and your local partners have confirmed staffing schedules.”
Klaus Mueller’s weathered face creases into what passes for a smile on the laptop screen. Behind him, I can see his pristine Munich office with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Bavarian cityscape.
“Excellent, Mrs. Moretti. Your coordination has made this expansion remarkably smooth. The bureaucratic challenges alone could have delayed us for months.”
Alaric leans back in his chair beside me, reviewing the contracts we’ve just finalized. Three months of negotiations concluded in a handshake agreement that will generate millions in legitimate revenue over the next five years.
His hand rests casually on my thigh under the conference table, a gesture of intimacy that’s become second nature since our perfect evening in the garden three days ago.
I can still feel the echo of his touch from that night, the way he worshiped my changing body with reverent hands and whispered promises about our future. We made love with an intensity that felt eternal, both of us believing we’ve finally found something real and lasting.
“There is one more matter,” Klaus says, his formal expression softening slightly. “Something personal, if I may.”
“Of course,” I reply, Alaric’s thumb tracing small circles on my leg.
“I understand congratulations are in order. You are expecting your first child?”
“Yes, in February.”
“Wunderbar! As it happens, I have something that might interest you.” He reaches off-camera and returns with a thick hardbound book, its dark blue cover embossed with gold lettering. “German medical text on pregnancy and childbirth. Quite comprehensive, used in our finest hospitals.”
He holds the book up to the camera so I can read the title clearly:Schwangerschaft und Geburt: Ein umfassender Leitfaden.
“This is very thoughtful, Klaus.”
“German medical practices are quite advanced,” Klaus continues, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “This contains information you won’t find in American texts. Research on prenatal nutrition, birthing techniques, postpartum care developed over generations of German mothers. Consider it essential reading for any intelligent woman preparing for motherhood.”
Alaric squeezes my thigh gently. “That’s generous of you, Klaus.”
“Nonsense. Mrs. Moretti’s linguistic skills and cultural understanding have been invaluable to our partnership. This is merely a small token of appreciation.” Klaus straightens his tie, returning to business mode. “I’ll have it shipped immediately. Express delivery to arrive within forty-eight hours.”
“I look forward to reading it,” I tell him truthfully.
“Excellent. The German medical terminology may present some challenges, but I have complete confidence in your abilities.”
After we end the call, Alaric turns to me with an amused expression. “A German pregnancy manual?”
“Klaus believes in thorough preparation for everything. You’ve seen his contracts—every contingency planned three steps ahead.”
“Are you actually going to read it?”
“Of course. It’ll be good practice too. Reading an entire medical text in German will challenge my comprehension skills beyond business vocabulary.”
“My brilliant wife, never missing an opportunity to learn something new.”
He pulls me closer, his mouth finding the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me shiver.
“The staff will worry if we’re late for dinner,” I murmur, even as I lean into his kiss.
