"Another little tigress cub to join our family. Just like hermamma," he'd say.
"Now we'll have another handsome devil like hispapa," I say, moving closer to him and resting my head on his shoulder.
"I wish he wouldn't," he says, so softly I can barely hear him. I turn my head toward him, my brows knitting in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
The tick in his jaw lets me know this is a delicate subject.
"Being handsome doesn't guarantee you anything except doubting everyone's intentions toward you," he says cryptically.
"I don't understand…"
"Remember theSymposium?" he asks, and I nod. "It's easy to desire the flesh—it's innate. It's human nature to be drawn to beauty. It's harder, though, to desire the soul, because you're first dazzled or repulsed by the flesh," he pauses, his hand gently stroking my hair. "But when everyone desires the flesh, how do you know who desires the soul?"
"So you'd rather be repulsive?" I counter, because our experiences are polar opposites. "Isn't it the same the other way around? When everyone is repulsed by the flesh, how do you get someone to give you a chance?" He may have grown up fawned over by everyone around him, but I grew up being scorned by everyone, so I can attest that it's not fun either.
"I'd rather be…normal," he says with a sigh. "Average…the type of person you'd pass by on the street and not look at twice."
"I'd rather be pretty too. We all want what we can't have."
His fingers suddenly grip my chin as he forces me to look into his eyes.
"You are. To me, you're the prettiest woman," he says, and for once I don't argue. Instead, I smile, going up on my tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. So what if he's lying? For once in my life, I feel pretty, and his words bring me even more joy.
"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.
I refrain from telling him that I'm not with him because of his looks and that it's the glimpses into his heart that made mefall in love with him. Because that would mean admitting my feelings, and I don't want to give him any future leverage.
We're fine like this, loving but with no words of love. We're…comfortable.
My next doctor's appointment comes, and we get ready to go together. On the way to the hospital, though, Enzo receives a phone call about an urgent situation at the Sacré-Cœur, where his sister lives.
"I don't want to leave you alone," he says reluctantly, and I can tell he's genuinely sorry for missing the appointment.
"Go help your sister. There will be more appointments," I say, pushing at him playfully.
A little more back and forth and he finally decides to go, but not before assigning me double the number of bodyguards.
When we reach the hospital, I convince my bodyguards to wait outside the gynecology section, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with five menacing-looking men.
I enter the hallway and take a seat in the waiting area. I'm a little early, so the nurse informs me that I should wait until my name is called.
Picking up one of the magazines lying around, I try to immerse myself in the reading, hoping time will pass faster.
I notice, though, from the corner of my eye as a man sits right beside me. I frown, noting all the other empty seats around.
Odd.
Trying to ignore it, I turn back to my magazine.
"Nice weather for November," the man says, and I realize he's addressing me.
"Sorry, I'm married," I say quickly, showing him my ring finger. I've experienced Enzo's jealousy before, and I don't want a repeat.
Instead, I stand up to move seats.
"It's not a pickup line, Mrs. Agosti." His knowledge of my name has me immediately on alert.
