I stand there, staring at the closed door.
That went poorly. Incredibly so.
I'm going over the Tuesday plans alone when Antonio appears in my doorway.
"Busy?" he asks.
"Always." I don't look up from the blueprints. I'm focused on work, and I'm not interested in hearing Antonio's disappointment in my inability to knock my wife up.
Not that he cares what I'm doing. He walks in and takes a seat. "You seem...different lately."
I lift my head.
"Different how?"
"Happier. Despite the fact that Gemma still isn't pregnant and Nero is breathing down our necks about the attacks."
I glance up. "You want me to be miserable?" I ask, confused. "My happiness is bad?"
"I want to understand what's changed." He sits across from me, and I see the toll that the cancer is taking on him. His face is thin, and his eyes look sunken. "A month ago, you were going through the motions. Now you're...engaged. Excited, even." There's a note of suspicion in his voice.
Fuck, he suspects something. And why wouldn't he? The only time I'm this jovial is when I'm killing. And there hasn't been much chance for that lately.
"The Neros called me. They're concerned about Gemma. They haven't heard from her."
I snort. "Adrian isn't exactly her favorite person," I remind my uncle. "She blames him for this marriage. More than she even blames me."
"Even so," he says, "have her call. Check in."
I want to tell him I don't tell my wife what to do. But that would be a lie. I love commanding her. I just don't think she needs to kiss her brother's ass. He's not really concerned about her. He told me as much.
"I also want to talk about why she is still not pregnant?—"
My jaw tightens. "It's been eighteen weeks. Everyone is acting like we've been at this for years."
"I am simply thinking that perhaps we need to consider if everything is…" he trails off. "Alright."
"Alright?" Where is he going with this? My chest feels tight as I think about the look on Gemma's face when she told me her period came.
"In working order?"
"With my cock?" I laugh. "I can assure you?—"
"No," he snaps. "With your wife."
His words stop me dead. I'm not laughing anymore.
"We should have her see a specialist." He shakes his head. "Honestly, I should have forced that before the wedding. Fertility rates in women?—"
"No," I cut him off. "No, fucking way."
"Saint—" There's a warning in his voice.
"I said no." My voice is cold. Hard. "No one is examining her. No one is touching her. She's fine, and she will conceive."
"You can't know that."
"I know she doesn't need some doctor poking around because you're fucking dying." I stand. "Tell the Neros to back off and take that same advice. An heir will come. It's been less than five months."
