Page 16 of Stained Honor

A soft smile slips onto my lips before I answer in the same quiet tone.

“We’re okay.”

For a second, he goes completely still. Then he slowly pulls back and looks at me with narrowed, questioning eyes. I lift the pregnancy test still clenched tightly in my hand and show it to him. His gaze locks onto the positive sign. His chest starts rising and falling faster. And for one terrifying second, doubt crawls through me like poison.

I never told Carlo I stopped taking the pill because I wanted to surprise him someday. But now, watching his silence, a horrible thought suddenly takes root inside me.

What if I’m the one about to be surprised by his reaction?

I ease myself slightly out of his arms and ask quietly, “You’re not happy?”

One corner of his mouth lifts as his eyes find mine again, and the sheer amount of love pouring out of them nearly drowns me. He squares his shoulders proudly, pulls me tighter against his chest, and asks in a rough, arrogant voice, “What do you think?”

A smile spreads across my lips, and I bite down on the corner of my mouth shyly. He kisses my smile carefully before murmuring, “I’m getting another piece of you.”

His kisses trail lower, over my neck, my shoulder, the top of my chest, until he drops to his knees in front of me. Wrapping both arms around my hips, he presses a kiss to my stomach and adds softly, “I’m gonna be the father of another one of your babies.” His eyes lift to mine again. “Happy’s not even the right word for this.”

I slide my fingers through his hair, lean down, and kiss the top of his head, staying like that for several quiet seconds before he finally rises to his feet again. But the second his gaze lands on my bruised cheek, something dark and violent flashes through his expression.

“Am I happy that that motherfucker bruised my wife?” His jaw tightens. “My pregnant wife?” He lets out a cold laugh. “No. Not even a little.”

Without warning, he hooks an arm beneath my knees and lifts me into his arms before carrying me to the bedroom. Without setting me down once, he sits against the headboard with his legs stretched out and keeps me settled against his chest.

I tilt my head up to look at him. “Did you catch him?”

He takes a slow breath, and the wicked gleam lighting his eyes answers me before his smirk does. He only nods once.

I fist his shirt tighter and say with disgust, “That bastard told me I turned him on.”

Carlo exhales sharply through his nose and looks at me carefully.

I bite my lip before admitting, “I slapped him.”

Pride flashes instantly through his expression, but his fingers still move gently through my hair as he says, “That was dangerous, baby. You should’ve let Giorgio handle him.”

The memory of the shooting flashes through my head, and I lift myself off his chest to sit more upright on his lap.

“Those men who helped us… were they yours?”

His thumb strokes the uninjured side of my face while his deep voice drops into that low, dangerous tone that always wrecks my heartbeat.

“You really thought I’d send my spoiled little baby, the woman I love, away from me with only one bodyguard protecting her?”

My heart stops for a second at his words.

I pull back and sit beside him on the dark green sheets, my stomach twisting painfully as I ask, “You forgave me?”

He straightens slightly and narrows his eyes at me. “Sending you here was never about forgiving you or punishing you. I sent you here to protect you, Emily. Not to punish you.”

Tears instantly flood my eyes, and before I can stop myself, my voice rises.

“Not even saying goodbye to me? Not calling me once in an entire month? Not letting me see you for thirty-three fucking days?” My throat burns. “That was supposed to protect me, Carlo?”

He leans toward me, trying to pull me into his arms, but I shove hard against his chest, hard enough that pain shoots through my own palm.

It doesn’t stop him.

Even while my slaps land against his chest and occasionally his face, he still drags me into his arms and holds me there.