Page 56 of The Specialist

“Now, Matteo had offered us a house on his island if you want a totally different lifestyle.”

“What?”

He chuckled. “There is a hospital on the mainland. Easily accessible and always in need of doctors. Damien said you would love it there. We could live happily in a very safe place. You could be a doctor, be close to Damien, have me, and I will still look after the babies.”

“And everything here?”

He shrugged. “Is a placeholder. Part of my life I can leave behind. As long as I have you, my paintbrushes, and lots of babies, I am happy.”

I sat up, looking at him. “Egan, have you ever changed a diaper? Held a baby?”

He sat up as well, looking insulted. “Sofia, I can dismantle a bomb in minutes. Implode a building without disturbing anything around it. Take apart and put back together a number of weapons in seconds. I think I can figure out a diaper. Or how to hold a baby.”

I gaped at him, and he began to laugh and tapped the end of my nose.

“I have visited the island many times. Held the babies, rocked them. Changed and fed them. I love that part of visiting. I can hardly wait to hold my own. To watch our children thrive.” His gaze darkened. “To watch you grow round with them and know they are safe and warm within your body. You will make the sexiest mother-to-be.”

“You will be an amazing father,” I whispered, fighting the thick feeling in my throat and blinking at the moisture in my eyes.

“What is this?” he murmured, wiping his thumb over my cheek where a tear fell.

“I can’t believe this, Egan. I can’t believe you. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you love me.”

He pulled me into his arms. “I am the lucky one, my Sofia. You are my dream. And together, we will figure out our life. Here. The island. A house elsewhere. Wherever you are is my home.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “You are my home.”

I shut my eyes, letting his words sink in.

“You are mine,” I replied.

“Then we have everything we need.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Egan

Candlelight flickered over Sofia’s face, highlighting her beauty. I sipped my wine, watching her as she stared over the water. She had her chin propped up in her hand, and she wore a small smile, looking content. I loved watching her expressions. She had become much more open with me now that she had let her guard down.

She turned her head, meeting my eyes.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful. I like to look at you.”

She indicated the window. “The view is far more spectacular.”

“I disagree. Your beauty puts it to shame.”

She picked up her wine, a soft color flushing her cheeks. “Stop.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

I lifted one shoulder, smiling at her indulgently. “Why does it embarrass you that the man you love thinks you are the most beautiful woman on this earth? You should be pleased.”

“I’m not used to it,” she admitted.

“You will grow accustomed.”