The timer chimes softly. I freeze, suddenly afraid to look.
I force myself to take those three steps to the counter. My heart pounds in my chest as I reach for the test.
Two pink lines.
Positive.
I clutch the test to my chest as tears spring to my eyes. A child—our child—grows inside me. The joy crashes over me in waves, stealing my breath. This baby is the physical manifestation of what Silvo and I have built together, a love forged from arrangement and obligation into something fierce and real.
But fear follows close behind. Our world drips with danger. Just weeks ago, bullets flew and blood spilled. The Tartarov threat may have subsided, but for how long? The legacy of violence stretches back generations. What right do I have to bring an innocent life into this?
Yet hope burns brighter. This child could be something new—a De Luca born into peace rather than vendetta. A symbol of unity where there was once only division.
I find Silvo in his study, bent over maps and reports. When I enter, he looks up, concern immediately crossing his face.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
I place the test on his desk. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes widen, darting between my face and the test. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, processing.
Then he stands so quickly his chair crashes backward. In two strides, he’s around the desk, lifting me into his arms, spinning me in circles.
“A baby?” His voice cracks. “Our baby?”
I nod, tears streaming freely now.
He sets me down gently, his hands framing my face. “I never thought... I never imagined I could be this happy.”
“You’re not worried?” I whisper.
“Terrified,” he admits, pressing his forehead to mine. “But it’s you and me now. We’ll protect our child together. And with the alliance between our families, we’re in a safer position than we’ve been in years.”
His lips find mine, soft and reverent. The kiss deepens, and I melt into him.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Both of you.”
He lifts me into his arms, carrying me to our bedroom. His touch is different tonight—tender, gentle, almost worshipful. Each caress, each kiss feels like a promise.
Silvo lays me gently on our bed, his eyes never leaving mine. The tenderness in his gaze makes my heart swell. His fingertips trace my face as if memorizing every curve and contour.
“My wife,” he whispers, “the mother of my child.”
I pull him down, claiming his mouth with mine. Our tongues dance as his hands slide beneath my blouse, caressing the sensitive skin of my stomach where our child grows.
“I need you,” I breathe against his lips.
He undresses me slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to each newly exposed inch of skin. When I’m naked beneath him, he takes a moment to simply look at me, his eyes darkening with desire.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he says, his voice rough.
I reach for him, unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders to reveal the tattooed expanse of his chest. My fingers trace the inked patterns as I’ve done countless times before, but tonight feels different—sacred somehow.
When he enters me, it’s with exquisite care. I gasp, arching beneath him as he fills me completely. He moves slowly at first, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling.
“I love you,” I whisper, clinging to his shoulders. “God, Silvo, I love you so much.”
His pace increases, his powerful body moving against mine. One hand slides between us, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cry out.
