Chapter 18
Roman was still asleep when I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. He didn’t like opening his eyes to an empty space beside him, he’d never said it outright, but I’d learned that much quickly. Still, the scent of food was calling me, and so was the gnawing hunger that came with pregnancy.
The mansion was quiet as I padded into the kitchen. Amara, the chef, was already there, a pale-blue apron tied neatly around her waist, her silver hair glinting under the soft overhead lights. She looked up from the counter where she was slicing ripe peaches and smiled.
“Good morning, Mam,” she greeted warmly. “You’re up early.”
“I was hungry,” I admitted, sliding onto one of the tall stools by the island.
She chuckled. “That’s not hunger, that’s your little one telling me I’d better feed you before you faint.”
Within minutes, she had set down a plate so perfect it could’ve been in a magazine, soft scrambled eggs, avocado toast sprinkled with chili flakes, a small bowl of berries, and a side of the peaches she’d been slicing. Beside it, she placed a glass of fresh juice.
“You’re spoiling me,” I said, already digging in.
“That’s the idea,” she replied with a wink. “Pregnancy is no time to skimp. You need strength, for you and for your baby.”
I paused mid-bite, the fork hovering halfway to my mouth. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I still can’t believe I’m… going to be a mom.”
For a second, the clink of her knife against the cutting board slowed. Amara looked over at me, her expression softening in a way that made her silver eyes almost glow. “You’ll be a good one, I can tell. You’ve got that look about you, half terrified, half fiercely protective already.”
I gave a shaky laugh. “Sounds about right.”
She set the knife down and came around the counter, leaning one hip against the marble island. “That’s the mark of a mother, Layla. You think the fear will pass, but it doesn’t. You just learn to live with it… and you turn it into strength.”
The words sank in, heavy and warm all at once.
My chest tightened, because she was right, my fear wasn’t weakness, it was fuel.
I’d felt it in those moments after the attack, when I thought Roman might lose me.
I’d felt it when I heard Rosemary’s voice full of venom.
And now… I knew I’d burn the whole damn world if it meant keeping this baby safe.
She gave my hand a quick squeeze before turning back to her peaches, like she hadn’t just lit a match inside me.
She wasn’t wrong. As I picked at the rest of my breakfast, my mind wandered, straight to Roman. I tried to picture him holding a baby, a smile lifting my lips at the thought.
It was almost impossible to reconcile. The man I knew was all hard edges and lethal intent, a predator in an Armani suit.
I’d seen him tear through enemies without a flicker of hesitation, his voice cold as steel when he ordered death.
And yet… I could also see him the way I’d caught him in quiet moments, reading beside me without touching his book, just watching me breathe.
Pulling the blanket higher over me when he thought I was cold.
Kissing my shoulder like it was some holy thing.
The thought of those hands, those same hands that could snap a man’s neck would be cradling something so small, so fragile, made my throat tighten. He would protect our child with the same ferocity he protected me… maybe even more. And God help anyone who even thought about harming us.
I wasn’t worried about whether he’d love our child. I was worried he might love too hard or guard too tightly, the way he did me.
After breakfast, I headed upstairs, energy buzzing in my veins.
I opened the walk-in wardrobe and was greeted by the overwhelming sight of endless racks of clothing Roman had stocked for me when we first got together.
Dresses in every colour and cut, tailored pants, silk blouses, shoes that looked too expensive to even try on.
My hand skimmed along hangers until I found it, a dark burgundy dress in soft, slinky fabric that pooled between my fingers like liquid.
The deep neckline dipped low enough to be daring, and the high slit up the thigh…
yeah, Roman would lose his mind. I paired it with a set of high black pumps that made my legs look a mile long.
A shadow shifted in the doorway. I glanced over to see Gideon leaning casually against the frame, arms folded, eyes scanning the room the way a soldier might scan a battlefield.
“Morning,” I said, holding the dress against me. “What do you think?”
He gave the faintest of nods. “He’ll like it. A lot.”
I laughed. “That’s the point. You know anything about this function tonight?”
His lips twitched in the closest thing I’d seen to a smile from him. “It’s formal and way too public. The kind of place where everyone’s pretending to be polite while they size each other up. You’ll have a lot of eyes on you.”
“Sounds… intense,” I said, though my pulse quickened with anticipation.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be nearby the whole time, you won’t even know I’m there.”
I nodded, oddly reassured by his steady tone, but then he added, “And you won’t just have me, because the twins will be there too.”
I looked at him sharply. “Ashen and Rael?”
He gave a short nod. “My Lords orders. Between the three of us, no one will get within ten feet of you unless they want to leave in pieces. He’s… taking no chances, Layla. Not after last time.”
A strange mix of emotions swirled in my chest, a warmth at the fact that he cared so much, frustration at the reminder of how much danger he thought I was in. “Three bodyguards for one night out?” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but my voice came out softer than I intended.
“Three predators,” Gideon corrected, a faint smirk touching his mouth. “And every single one of us is under orders to put your safety above everything else. Including Roman.”
I froze. “Above Roman?”
His smirk widened just a fraction. “Those were his words, not mine.” My heart tightened at the thought of Roman putting my safety above his own.
Once my outfit was settled, I made my way back to the bedroom. The curtains were still drawn, the room bathed in that warm, dim glow Roman preferred when he slept. I slipped under the covers, curling up beside him.
He stirred almost instantly, one arm instinctively wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. Even in his sleep, he was protective. Possessive. I smiled into the pillow, knowing that when he opened his eyes, I’d already be right where he wanted me, right beside him.
His breath was warm against my neck, slow and steady, but there was a subtle shift in the weight of his hold, a tightening, like some part of him had already woken and registered that I was there.
His fingers spread over my hip, anchoring me in place, as if even the thought of me getting up again was unacceptable.
For a few minutes, I just lay there listening to the deep, quiet rhythm of him.
It was the only time I ever saw him unguarded; the sharp edges smoothed away by sleep.
I traced a slow, invisible pattern along his forearm, memorizing the feel of him, the faint ridges of old scars, the heat of his skin, the steady pulse beneath my touch.
When his lashes finally lifted, his gaze locked on mine instantly, dark and piercing even in that first hazy moment of waking. “Hey baby,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly from sleep.
“Hey.” I smiled, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”
A faint, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest, as he pulled me even closer until my leg was hooked over his hip. “You should be resting,” he said, eyes narrowing just slightly in that way that always made my stomach flutter. “I don’t want you to tire yourself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
But the way he was looking at me, still half-asleep yet already cataloguing every detail, told me he’d never take my word for it. With Roman, trust was ironclad once given… but vigilance was eternal.