Chapter 24
AURORA
It's morning, and my friends are leaving. Part of me wants them to stay forever, to keep this buffer between me and the intensity of life with Axel. But another part knows they need to go. This is my life now. I need to figure it out.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Tiana asks for the hundredth time. "We can stay longer if you need us."
"I'm okay. Really."
"You almost died last night."
"But I didn't. Axel got there in time."
"Because he's obsessively protective," Chloe points out. "Which is hot but also concerning."
"I know. We talked about it. We're working on finding balance."
"Are you though?" Chloe stops packing, looks at me seriously. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're in deep with a man you barely know. Living in his house. Pregnant with his baby. Isolated from everyone who cares about you."
"I'm not isolated. You're here."
"We're leaving in an hour. Then what? You're alone with him again."
"I'm not alone. Viktor's here. The staff. And Axel and I are actually talking now. Really talking."
Tiana sits beside me on the bed. "Do you have feelings for him? Real feelings?"
The question makes my chest tight. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably. Yes."
"That's a lot of answers."
"Because I'm confused!" I drop the shirt I was folding. "I don't yet know what we are."
"What do you want to be?" Chloe asks.
"I want..." I stop, trying to put words to feelings I barely understand. "I want this to be real. Not just convenience or obligation because of the baby. I want him to choose me because he wants to, not because he has to."
"Has he given you any indication that he wants to?" Tiana's voice is gentle.
"Last night, he said he wants to try. That he wants us to build something together."
"That's something."
"It's not enough though, is it? Wanting to try isn't the same as actually caring. Actually..." I can't say the word love. It's too soon, too big, too terrifying.
"Aurora." Chloe takes my hand. "I know this is scary. But I saw the way he looked at you last night when he thought you were in danger. That man was terrified. Not because of some obligation. Because he cares about you."
"You think so?"
"I know so. The question is, do you care about him?"
Do I?
I think about Axel's hands on my face, checking for injuries. The fear in his voice when he asked if I was hurt. The way he held me last night, like I was something precious.
The way he makes me laugh when we're not fighting. The respect he shows for my mind, my skills. The vulnerability he showed when talking about his sister.
"Yeah," I admit. "I think I do. Which is insane because we've known each other for what, six weeks total?"
"Sometimes that's all it takes," Tiana says. "My parents knew each other for three weeks before they got married. They were together for thirty-five years before my dad died."
"That's different. They weren't in a mafia situation with people trying to kill them."
"True. But the feeling part is the same. When you know, you know."
"I don't know anything. I'm just scared and confused and falling for someone who might break my heart."
"Then be careful," Chloe says. "Protect yourself. But also give this a chance. Real feelings are rare. Don't run from them just because they're scary."
Tiana nods. "Follow your heart. Even if it leads somewhere unexpected."
A knock on the door interrupts us. Axel enters.
"Ladies, the car is ready whenever you are."
"We'll be down in five," Chloe says. Then, to my surprise, she looks Axel in the eye. "We need to talk."
He raises an eyebrow. "About?"
"About the fact that you're with our best friend. Which means if you hurt her, we hurt you."
"Chloe!" I screamed, mortified.
"I'm serious. We don't care how many guns you have or how scary you are. You break her heart, we break your kneecaps."
Tiana joins her. "She's not joking. We will find a way."
Axel looks between them, and then he does something unexpected. He smiles. Really smiles, genuine and warm.
"I like your friends," he says to me. Then to them: "Noted. I'll do my best not to require kneecap breaking."
"See that you don't." Chloe grabs her bag. "Come on, Tiana. Let's give them a minute."
They file out, leaving Axel and me alone.
"Your friends are terrifying," he says.
"They're protective."
"I respect that." He steps closer. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused, and a little bit happy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I move into his arms, rest my head on his chest. "Thank you for bringing them here. I needed that."
"I know. That's why I did it." He kisses the top of my head. "Even though it almost got you killed."
"Too soon for jokes about that."
"Sorry."
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other. It feels natural now. Easy.
"I have a question," he says.
"What?"
"Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
I pull back to look at him. "We have dinner together every night."
"Not like that. A real dinner. Just us. No business talk. No Viktor interrupting. No crisis to handle. Just you and me."
"Like a date?"
"Exactly like a date."
Something warm blooms in my chest. "You want to take me on a date?"
"I've realized I've done everything backward with you. Got you pregnant before I took you to dinner. Asked you to live with me before I asked you out properly. I'd like to fix that."
"Axel Santego, are you trying to court me?"
"I'm trying something. Not sure what to call it yet." He looks almost nervous. It's adorable. "So? Will you have dinner with me?"
I grin. "Yes. I'd love to."
"Good. Seven o'clock. The garden terrace. Margareta's making something special."
"What should I wear?"
"Whatever makes you comfortable. Though I have to admit, I'm partial to that blue dress you wore last week."
The fact that he noticed what I was wearing makes me ridiculously happy.
After I say goodbye to Chloe and Tiana, I spend the afternoon getting ready. Which is silly because it's just Axel. But it also isn't just Axel. It's our first real date. Our first attempt at something normal.
I choose the blue dress he mentioned. It's simple, elegant, and hits just above my knees. My stomach's still flat enough that you can't tell I'm pregnant. I leave my hair down, the way he likes it.
At exactly seven, I step out onto the garden terrace.
And stop in my tracks.
The space has been transformed. String lights hang overhead, casting warm golden light. A small table is set for two, with candles and flowers. Soft music plays from somewhere, instrumental and romantic.
Axel is standing by the table, wearing dark slacks and a white button-down shirt. No tie. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks devastating.
"Wow," I breathe.
"You like it?"
"It's beautiful. When did you do all this?"
"Margareta and I conspired while you were getting ready." He pulls out my chair. "Please, sit."
I do, feeling like I'm in a dream. This man who runs a criminal empire, who kills people without hesitation, who terrifies grown men, is pulling out my chair and looking nervous about a date.
"Wine?" he offers, holding up a bottle.
"I can't. Baby."
"I know. It's sparkling grape juice. Margareta assured me it's fancy."
I laugh. "That's sweet."
He pours for both of us, then sits across from me. For a moment, we just look at each other.
"This is weird," I say.
"Good weird or bad weird?"
"Good weird. We've had sex multiple times, screamed at each other several times. But we've never just... dated."
"Hence tonight. An attempt at normal."
Margareta appears with the first course. Some kind of soup that smells incredible.
"This looks amazing," I tell her.
"Wait until you taste the main course," she says with a smile, then disappears.
The soup is delicious. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Axel speaks.
"Tell me something about yourself I don't know."
"Like what?"
"Anything. Your favorite color. Your first kiss. What you wanted to be when you grew up."
"Okay. Favorite color is teal. First kiss was Tommy Martinez in eighth grade behind the gym. Terrible. All tongue and no technique."
Axel laughs. "Poor Tommy."
"And I wanted to be a dancer. Ballet specifically. Took classes for ten years."
"Why did you stop?"
"Dad said it wasn't practical. That I needed skills I could use in the family business. So I switched to accounting."
"Do you regret it?"
"Sometimes. But I love numbers too. They make sense in a way people don't."
"I get that." He finishes his soup. "My turn?"
"Please."
"Favorite color is navy blue. First kiss was Maria Gonzalez when I was fifteen. Also terrible. We bumped teeth."
I giggle at the image.
"And I wanted to be a chef."
That surprises me. "Really?"
"Really. I loved cooking. Creating something from nothing. The precision of it." He shrugs. "But my father had other plans. Said Santegos don't cook, they command. So here we are."
"Do you ever cook now?"
"Rarely. But sometimes, late at night when I can't sleep, I'll make something. Just for myself."
"You'll have to cook for me sometime."
"Deal."
Margareta brings the main course. Chicken in some kind of cream sauce, roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned. It's restaurant quality.
"This is incredible," I moan after the first bite.
"Margareta's been with me for fifteen years. She knows what she's doing."
We eat and talk, conversation flowing easily. He tells me about growing up in the organization, learning the business from his father. I tell him about my mother, the good memories before she died.
"What was she like?" he asks.
"Warm. Funny. She could make friends with anyone. Dad used to say she was the only thing that kept him human." I smile at the memory. "She'd read to me every night. Made up voices for all the characters. I fell asleep to her voice every single night until I was eight."
"I'm sorry you lost her so young."
"Me too. But I'm grateful I had her at all. Some people never get that kind of love."
"Like me," he says quietly.
"Your parents weren't warm?"
"My mother left when I was five. My father was... hard. He believed in discipline. Control. Showing no weakness." Axel's jaw tightens. "I learned early that feelings were liabilities in our world."
"That's a terrible way to grow up."
"It made me strong."
"It made you lonely."
He's quiet for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. It did."
I reach across the table, take his hand. "You're not alone anymore."
"Neither are you."
We finish dinner, and Margareta brings out dessert. Chocolate cake with raspberry sauce. It's sinful.
"I'm going to gain so much weight with this baby," I say around a mouthful.
"Good. You're too thin right now."
"I'm stress eating. Does that count?"
"Only if the stress is my fault."
"It's definitely at least fifty percent your fault."
He grins. "I'll take those odds."
After dessert, he stands and offers his hand. "Dance with me."
"There's no dance floor."
"There's music and space. That's all we need."
I let him pull me up, and he wraps one arm around my waist. I rest my hand on his shoulder, and we sway to the music.
"I'm not very good at this," I warn.
"Me neither. We'll be terrible together."
But we're not terrible. We move easily, naturally, like we've done this a hundred times.
"Thank you for tonight," I say. "This was perfect."
"It's not over yet."
"No?"
"I have one more thing planned."
He leads me to the edge of the terrace, where there's a telescope set up pointing at the sky.
"I thought we could look at stars," he says. "There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight."
"You set up a telescope?"
"Viktor did. Under protest. But yes."
I look through the eyepiece, and the sky explodes with clarity. Stars I've never seen before, planets, the cosmic dust of distant galaxies.
"This is incredible," I breathe.
"I know you like astronomy. You mentioned it once."
"You remembered that?"
"I remember everything you tell me."
I pull back from the telescope to look at him. He's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"What?" I ask.
"You're beautiful. And I'm an idiot for not telling you that sooner."
"You've told me plenty of times during sex."
"That doesn't count. I should tell you when we're not naked. When there's no agenda. Just because it's true."
My heart is doing dangerous things in my chest.
"Axel..."
"You're beautiful, Aurora. And smart. And brave. And you make me want to be better than I am."
"You're already pretty good."
"I'm a criminal who runs a violent organization and has more enemies than friends. I'm objectively terrible."
"You're also loyal and protective and surprisingly sweet when you want to be." I step closer. "And you make me feel safe even when everything's chaos."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kisses me. Soft, tender, nothing like our usual desperate encounters. Just his lips on mine under the stars.
"Take me to bed," I whisper against his mouth.
"Demanding."
"You like it."
"I really do."
He leads me upstairs to his room. We undress each other slowly, carefully. Then we're in his bed, wrapped around each other.
But we don't have sex. We just hold each other. His hand rests on my stomach, where our baby is growing.
"I can't feel anything yet," I say.
"Soon. In a few weeks, there'll be movement."
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified. I have no idea how to be a father."
"I have no idea how to be a mother."
"Then we'll figure it out together."
"Together," I echo.
I drift off in his arms, feeling safer and happier than I have in months.
And for the first time since this whole thing started, I let myself hope.
Hope that maybe this could work. That maybe we could build something real out of all this chaos.
That would be the best thing in the world.