Chapter Forty-Six
Isabella
“Five minutes,” Colton said as he helped me settle onto the bed the next morning. We’d planned this carefully after discovering the surveillance, scheduling this appointment while most of Rodger’s watchdogs were following Cooper to a symposium. Cooper had flown in from Italy to pose as Colton, somehow managing to slip past Rodger’s surveillance through the service entrance. He’d complained loudly about having to wear Colton’s “uptight banker suits” instead of his usual casual attire, though I had to admit he wore them just as well as his brother. The real Colton’s hand stayed at my lower back, steadying me as my altered center of gravity betrayed my usual grace. “The team has the perimeter.”
I glanced around our secured penthouse, noting on the security feed the inconspicuous black sedan parked on the street below—Stryker’s men, maintaining watch while appearing to be nothing more than chauffeurs waiting for wealthy clients. Another guard, dressed as maintenance personnel, swept the building entrance with practiced nonchalance.
“Doctor Eisenberg will be here any moment,” Colton said, checking his watch. “Steele arranged everything. She’s the same obstetrician he and Ashlynn used…world-renowned, completely discreet.”
Our bedroom—and it had become ours so quickly after my return to London—spoke of our merged lives. My antique jewelry box perched on what was once solely Colton’s dresser, my books stacked neatly beside his on the nightstand. The Whistler lithograph hanging opposite the bed was his, though—elegant, moody, and tastefully understated despite its value. I recognized the brushwork as I settled onto the bed, remembering how many similar pieces I’d authenticated at the bank.
“The Whistler lithograph is beautiful,” I said to Colton as he adjusted pillows behind me. “A rare edition like this would fetch just under a million in today’s market.”
His lips quirked slightly. “Even now, you’re authenticating art.”
“Occupational hazard,” I admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “Though I don’t miss the endless board meetings where I had to explain myself to unsophisticated swine.”
He just gave me a wry smile, knowing I was teasing him.
Doctor Eisenberg entered—an older woman with a no-nonsense attitude. Even her white lab coat was stiff with starch. Silver threads ran through her dark hair, and her movements spoke of someone accustomed to operating under pressure. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who had treated patients in far worse circumstances than a private London penthouse.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her accent carrying hints of northern Germany.
“Like I’m showing too much for four months,” I said, trying to find a comfortable position on the bed. “And the morning sickness—”
“Still persists into the afternoon,” she noted, examining my chart. “More severe than typical at this stage.”
Colton’s phone buzzed. My pulse jumped as he checked it, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly.
“Sari,” he said, tension threading his voice. “Rodger took an earlier flight back to London.”
“Are we okay?” I asked, my throat tightening.
“We have time; the team will alert us if anything changes.”
The ultrasound gel was cold against my skin as Doctor Eisenberg spread it across my abdomen. I watched the screen of her portable machine, trying to focus on this moment rather than the danger surrounding us. Colton’s hand found mine, warm and steady despite everything.
Doctor Eisenberg’s expression shifted slightly as she moved the wand. Not alarm, but something else that made my chest tighten. She adjusted a dial, studying the screen with heightened attention.
“Well,” she said, adjusting the image. “This explains the early showing. You’re carrying twins. Both boys.”
The words landed like a physical weight. I stared at the screen where two distinct shapes appeared in ghostly grey. Two spines curved like question marks. Two heads. Two hearts beating in synchronized rhythm.
“Four months along,” Doctor Eisenberg confirmed, noting my surprise. “Though with twins, it’s normal to show earlier and experience more pronounced symptoms. It’s easy to miss on earlier ultrasounds, especially if you aren’t sure of the dating.”
Colton went absolutely still beside me. When I looked up, his face held something I’d never seen before…everything stripped away, leaving raw truth beneath. Vulnerability, wonder, and fear mingled in his expression. Gone was the confident lawyer.
“Like you and Cooper,” I said softly.
His hand tightened on mine. A slight tremor betrayed emotion he couldn’t quite contain. “Twins,” he whispered, the word half-reverent, half-terrified.
Doctor Eisenberg pointed out features with clinical precision, the spine, skull, and limbs. All developing normally. All perfectly formed. “See here,” she said, tracing a curve on the screen. “Here is Twin A, and here,” she moved the wand slightly, “is his brother.”
But I was watching Colton as he studied our sons on the screen, seeing the moment he truly understood what this meant. His free hand moved unconsciously to my shoulder, squeezing lightly.
“Can we...” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Can we hear the heartbeats?”
Doctor Eisenberg adjusted something on the machine, and suddenly the room filled with a rapid, rhythmic pulsing—two distinct patterns, slightly offset, creating a duet of life.
Colton’s eyes closed briefly, his fingers tightening on mine. For a man who always had words for every situation, he was stunned silent. The naked emotion on his face was startling. Beautiful.
His phone buzzed again, shattering our brief peace.
“Rodger landed,” he said after checking. His voice was rougher than usual. “He’s demanding an emergency meeting with the executive committee.”
Doctor Eisenberg’s movements became more efficient, though no less thorough. “Then we finish quickly. But first—with twins, you’ll need additional supplements. More rest. More precautions.”
“More risk,” I said, the reality of our situation crashing back. Two babies meant more complications. More danger for all of us.
She handed me printouts of the ultrasound images. “Four months with twins means you’re essentially at five months in terms of development and physical demands. Your body is working twice as hard.”
“Explaining the extreme fatigue,” I murmured, studying the images. “And why I can’t seem to stay awake past eight most nights.”
“Precisely.” She made notes in a file—paper only, nothing electronic that could be traced. “No more than four hours at the computer. Regular movement throughout the day. And absolutely no stress.”
At that, I couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “In our current situation—”
“I’m well aware of your circumstances,” she cut in, her voice gentle but firm. “Which is precisely why you must be more careful. Twins are at higher risk even in ideal conditions.”
Colton helped me clean the gel off my stomach, his hands lingering over where our sons grew. The wonder in his expression made my throat tight, but his voice was steady when he spoke.
“Cooper’s never going to shut up about this.”
“At least we told Clara she can’t name them,” I managed, trying to sit up despite my awkward balance. “We’d end up with something ridiculous. Grape and Olive, probably.”
His smile was brief but genuine. “Knowing Clara, something worse.”
I giggled, the sound strange to my ears. It had been a long time since I’d laughed.
“Time to move,” Colton said. “Rodger’s meeting.”
I watched Colton’s transformation, the vulnerable father vanishing behind the warrior’s mask. His shoulders straightened, jaw tightening as he slipped back into the role he’d been playing.
Doctor Eisenberg handed him a packet of prenatal supplements. “These are specially formulated for multiple births. Ensure she takes them morning and evening.”
She packed up her equipment and then Colton escorted her to the door where one of Steele’s men waited to take her safely from the building.
“They’ll use this against us,” I said once we were alone again. “If they discover—”
“They won’t.”
I looked down at the ultrasound photos, studying the grey shapes that would become our children. Two boys. Two brothers. Two lives we were responsible for protecting. “Twins explain the symptoms. The fatigue. The early showing.”
“And why you’re not leaving the penthouse again until this is finished.” His tone left no room for argument. “Doctor Eisenberg will continue to come to us.”
“Colton—”
“Please.” Something cracked in his voice. “I can’t risk—not with both of them. They’re connected forever.”
I covered his hand where it rested on my stomach. “Like you and Cooper?”
“Yes.” He watched London through the penthouse windows, a rare burst of sun peeking through the clouds. “We were always connected. Always knowing when the other was in danger. Always protecting each other. When Allegra was in danger…that was when I killed my first man. And I did it for Cooper, even though the guilt ate away at me for a year. But Allegra was his world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”
His face turned to my stomach, awe still apparent in his face. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. For you.”
I thought of our sons growing together as their father and uncle had. Already sharing blood and space and life. Already learning to survive.
“Does Cooper know?” I asked. “About the appointment today?”
“No.” Colton’s smile was brief. “He didn’t ask why I needed the cover. I’m guessing he assumed, but I wanted us to have this moment first. Just us.”
“He’ll be insufferable,” I murmured. “The twins continuing the family legacy.”
“He’ll be worse than insufferable.” But affection colored his words. “Allegra will have to physically restrain him from buying out every baby store in Tuscany.”
The thought of our future—of a world beyond danger and deception—made my throat tight. “When this is over...”
“When this is over,” he said softly, “we raise our sons somewhere safe. Somewhere with vineyards and olive groves and warmth.”
“Tuscany.” I leaned against him, taking comfort in his solid warmth. “Near the villa.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what we need,” I corrected.
His phone buzzed again, another warning. “Rodger moved the meeting up. I need to get back.”
Reality settled cold and heavy between us. “Go. Maintain our cover.”
He pulled me close, his hard chest providing a safe haven. “Thursday,” he promised. “Thursday, we end this. All of it.” He pressed a kiss to my temple before straightening his tie. “Be safe, my beautiful masterpiece.”