I had won.
“Thank you, Roman,” I whispered, brushing a soft kiss against his jawline, feeling the slight rasp of his stubble against my lips.
His smile flickered, but his expression darkened just as quickly.
His hand drifted over my stomach, his fingers flexing gently.
Roman’s voice was low, pained when he finally spoke. “I saw you through my dagger when you lost our child. I watched Balthazar throw you against the ground.”
His expression twisted into rage, his jaw tightened, and his veins strained against his skin as if remembering it made him wild with fury.
A searing bolt of pain tore through my heart, acute and merciless, and I squeezed Roman’s hand, needing his grounding presence.
“It was so awful, Roman.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it shook with memories too dark to carry alone. “And coupled with your absence… I don’t know how I made it through that time.” My brows knitted together as I swallowed hard. “I do know. I wouldn’t have made it had Malik not rescued me.”
Roman exhaled, his grip tightening as he pulled me closer. His arm curled protectively around me, anchoring me to him.
“We have much to thank Malik for.” His voice was still edged with barely restrained emotion, but acknowledgment was also there. Gratitude. “He has saved us each. And… he saved and cared for our daughter, Rosie.”
“Yes.”
My fingers idly traced the crease in his thigh, my touch featherlight, teasing, the need for comfort morphing into something else.
Beneath my fingertips, his cock stirred, hardening against my touch, responding instantly to me, as he always did.
I wrapped my hand around him, firm but gentle, feeling the pulse of heat and hardness in my palm.
Roman let out a low groan, his eyes darkening with desire as he drew my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles with reverence, with promise.
“We’ll make another baby, amore, I promise.” His lips brushed my skin, lingering. “We can have as many children as you desire. After we defeat Balthazar.”
His words sent a shiver of longing down my spine, the mix of tenderness and possession making my breath hitch.
“Yes,” I breathed.
But just as the moment thickened with desire, Roman chuckled, his voice shifting to something lighter, more amused, though his grip on my hand remained possessive.
“Speaking of Balthazar and his twat of a son…” He laced our fingers together, stroking my palm with his thumb. “I have no idea how you endured being with Tristan. He’s a blithe idiot—a complete pain in the ass. What did you possibly see in him?”
My cheeks heated, a mixture of embarrassment and irritation passing through me.
“I think Tristan hid his true colors.” I sighed, curling closer against Roman’s warmth. “His mannerisms were often forced. They seemed… calculated, almost too perfect. But I can only see that in retrospect.”
I squeezed his hand, searching his face. “I hope you don’t think less of me for being with Tristan.”
Roman’s expression softened instantly.
“I could never think less of you, amore.” He kissed the top of my head, his lips pressing against my hair. “You are the keeper of my heart.”
Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up with excitement, and his smirk curled in a way that made my stomach flutter.
“I almost forgot! I brought gifts from the twenty-first century for you.”
“Gifts?” My heart thumped with excitement, anticipation coiling in my chest.
Roman grinned as he traipsed across the room, opening the armoire and retrieving several items wrapped in silk.
“Your father suggested we buy these,” Roman said, his voice tinged with teasing and deep affection as he returned to me.
