Chapter 21
Daleyza
Hands pulled her hair over her shoulder, and he placed a kiss there. “Smells good.” His nose brushed against the shell of her ear from behind.
“Veal milanesa.”
“My favorite.”
He turned her in his arms, his lips unerringly finding hers. Nipping her bottom lip, he drew a gasp from her at the sting and used the opportunity to slide his tongue along hers. The kiss was long, slow, and full of heat.
When he finally pulled away, he corrected himself. “No, that’s my favorite.”
She smiled. Desire curled around her insides, swirling in tendrils of pink and silver. Yes, desire had colors. Pinks for the happiness he brought her. Silver for the molten metal of his eyes, showing all his want of her.
Never would she have believed an arranged marriage—an unwanted marriage—would bring her such joy, even in the face of the ugliness they were surrounded by. Nor had she thought she could possibly love a man whose soul belonged to a cartel, but she did.
Not that she’d told him. She couldn’t. He didn’t love her, and to say it might break the fragile connection between them.
That was the last thing she wanted. But it was okay that he didn’t love her back.
He cared about her and wanted her physically.
He was kind to her, despite his cruelty elsewhere, and he’d kept his promise.
He protected her, always and in all things.
He’d been gone for the past week on an assignment from his father.
She hated when he left because it was the only time she felt unsafe.
While he was on the grounds, his family left her alone.
But if he was gone? They delighted in reminding her she was at their mercy.
So when Ildefanso left the grounds? She tried to never leave their suites, locking all entry doors from the hallway and the balcony and pulling the curtains over the French doors.
She had no illusions it would stop them from entering if they truly wanted to, but it gave the illusion of protection.
By unspoken agreement, they never discussed his sudden disappearances.
The only reason she knew why he was gone this time was that she’d overheard his brothers in conference with Hector while they smoked on the terrace below.
This time, he’d gone to Mendoza, seeing to problems with a middleman who Hector believed had cheated him out of product, which always meant Ildefanso shed blood.
Sometimes it was merely a beating as a lesson. Other times, he was forced to kill.
The only good thing about his absence this week was that it gave her time to think. To plan.
But there’d also been too much time to worry about how he would react to her news.
While he’d been gone this past week on assignment from Hector, she practiced what she wanted to ask him.
She turned to finish setting the table, and he took advantage to nuzzle into her neck from behind. His mood lacked the darkness that cloaked him when he returned from those times requiring the latter. That boded well.
“You’re vibrating, belleza. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She turned to him. At the sight of the raised eyebrow, the one he used to his advantage when he smelled a lie, she quickly reassured him. “Truly. Nothing bad. I just need to tell you something, and I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”
“If it’s nothing bad, then why are you concerned how I’ll react?”
Blowing out a breath, she opened her mouth to share the speech she’d rehearsed. As usual, the words she’d prepared flew out of her head, and she simply stated her news. “I’m pregnant.”
He stood rock solid. Biting her lip, she watched his face for the words to sink in.
A note of disbelief tinged his words when he finally spoke. “Truly?”
Unable to reply verbally, she merely nodded. The movement felt like more of a series of jerks, but it was all she could manage.
A slow smile spread across his face, the worry bleeding from his silver eyes.
“You’re pleased?” she asked tentatively.
In response, he took one of her hands in his and laid it over his heart. “I know we discussed our concerns with bringing a child into this madness, but yes, Leeza. I’m more than pleased.”
Gathering her in his arms, his lips met hers once more. With his pounding heartbeat under her palm, she released the tension that had been building this past week, growing exponentially the closer his return approached.
When they came up for air, her cheek joined her palm over his heart.
“You’ve made me an incredibly happy man. Will the food keep?”
“The dish covers will preserve some of the heat. It probably won’t taste as good as it would freshly prepared, but I can have it warmed later.”
“I have a feeling I won’t notice it terribly much. Right now, I need to show you just how much I missed you and how wonderful it is to welcome our child into our lives.”
He swept her up into his arms and carried her into their bedroom.
The sound of the door entry beeps signaled that Ildefanso was returning from whatever duties he used as an escape from her.
It had been a familiar habit in the past when he wanted to avoid an argument.
Instead of hashing things out, potentially saying things they couldn’t take back, he fled.
They were stuck with each other because of the inability to divorce, but pushing him away was always the one thing she had feared most.
Apparently, neither of them had changed much in the years since they last saw each other.
Like the night she’d been lost in the memory of, dinner was waiting.
Unlike that night, she had no news to share with him, good or bad.
Instead, she hoped to use the meal as a means to repair the effects of her harsh words earlier.
It didn’t make them untrue, but the choices made were in the past, and they couldn’t be undone, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.
It also didn’t mean that he didn’t need to hear them.
To understand how she’d felt when he’d left.
She could have been kinder in how she shared her emotions.
The timing could have been better as well.
Unfortunately, who knew how long she had to share her hurt.
They had only tonight before they embedded themselves back into cartel territory.
While there, it was definitely not the time to share.
And afterward? Who knew how long she would have before they placed her in a new location, and he was once again gone from her life.
When he stepped up to where the foyer met the breakfast bar, he halted, setting his bag, much emptier than before, on its surface. It was easy to read his confusion. Rather than let him stew in it, she chose to jump feetfirst into the fray.
“I waited for you, figuring you wouldn’t have eaten. It arrived not too long ago, so it should still be fairly fresh, and I’ve been keeping it warm.” She nodded toward his bag. “What’s in there? Laundry?”
Clearing his throat, he replied, “Yes. You didn’t have to wait to eat, but gracias. You’re right. I didn’t eat. Do I have time to take a quick shower?”
“Of course. I’ll throw your laundry in the machine, and by the time I get everything set on the table, you’ll be done.”
He met her at the bar where she was grabbing his bag. A hand kept her from picking up the bag. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay. I want to. You’ve done enough for me in the last two days to warrant a few favors to make your life easier.”
They stood, locked in stasis. His body leaned toward hers, as if he meant to kiss her. She held her breath but saw the moment he caught himself. Part of her mourned that he did.
True to form, he returned, freshly showered in record time, just as she was setting the containers on the table, each with serving utensils nestled inside for easy access. Standing behind one of the chairs, she watched as he inhaled the scent of the spices and closed his eyes in appreciation.
She tried for a teasing tone to lighten the heavy mood that had settled between them. “Still the fastest showerer on the planet.”
He paused. “I was never fond of lingering there.”
A smile teased her lips. “No, you weren’t.”
In what felt like another lifetime, he’d explained to her that in the Navy, sailors didn’t have the luxury of time in the showers, especially since hot water was at a premium, if it existed at all.
The second reason was that he didn’t understand many people’s fascination with shower sex.
He hated kneeling on the hard tile, and when standing, he worried he’d lose control and hurt her, or himself, by dropping her when he had her up against the wall.
She knew he would never drop her, but it was an honest fear of his, so she let it slide.
Mostly, she suspected, it had to do with the fact that Ildefanso did nothing halfway, and their lovemaking had always been a drawn-out affair.
The water would go cold before he got to the good stuff.
“I recall you being of the same sentiment.”
This conversation bordered on dangerous.
“True.”
The larger reason, though, was that extended time spent in the shower equated with scrubbing the blood from his skin so not a speck remained. Aside from not wanting her to witness that part of his life, he told her it made his skin crawl.
“Your apartment,” she began. “It doesn’t smell like you live here.”
“What do you mean?”
“No smoke.”
“Ah. No. I gave it up.”
Silence hung between them.
“I asked Cherry what your favorite food was. She told me that you loved Vietnamese food, but that every time you ordered, you got something different, so I ordered several things since I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”
“Everything from V?’s is good.”
They sat and began to fill their plates.
With her first bite, she moaned as the flavors exploded across her tongue.
His smile grew. “Told you it was good.”
“I’ve never had Vietnamese food before. I’ve been missing out.”