Chapter Forty-Four
Gualtiero
We have a name for our child.
I nuzzle into Ella’s hair, breathing her in. This is becoming more real by the minute.
My angel is quiet against my chest, her breathing slow and even. The pain medication is finally working, and her body is no longer rigid, no longer braced.
“What is your most cherished memory of your mother?” she asks softly, her fingers toying with a button on my shirt.
I’m not surprised she raises the subject again. Talking about naming our children after our parents has brought them to the front of my mind too.
I don’t need to think about it. “Every Saturday morning,” I say quietly, “Mama was allowed to take Mateo and me to the beach for a few hours.”
Ella shifts, lifting her head slightly. I feel it before I see it, the change in her posture, the tension returning in a different way.
“Allowed to?” she asks.
Is she worried it will be the same for her?
If we were to remain in my world, it would. Keeping Ella and our child safe is my priority. Perhaps for the first time, I understand Papa’s reluctance to let us leave the compound.
“Leaving the house always carries risks when you are a De Marco, especially if you are the heir,” I say. “When we were little, Papa minimized our exposure by keeping us home as much as possible. Mama was happy to abide by that if it meant we were safe.
“After Mama died, Saturdays were hard to get through. So Papa filled them with training for our position.”
“You told me you were twelve when your dad started taking you along to meetings,” Ella says. “What other training was there?”
There are things about my childhood I never want Ella to know. But I also don’t want to lie to her.
My focus has to be forward, not backward. So I choose my words carefully.
“My training began the moment I was born. From the time I was little, I was taught to always be aware of my surroundings. Weapons were a natural part of my world.”
Ella flinches the tiniest bit, and I understand why.
“To you it probably sounds wrong, but preparing me for the life ahead, giving me the skills to survive and thrive, it was one of the ways my father showed his love.”
Ella shudders in my arms. “How old were you when… when you first…?” She can’t bring herself to finish the question.
I was young when I took the life of a man for the first time. He deserved it. He betrayed my family and abducted young girls to sell them into the sex trade. It’s something our family has always abhorred.
But pulling that trigger and watching a body fall limp stays with you forever.
“Angel,” I say quietly, “I don’t want to lie to you. But I also don’t want that part of me living in your head. You know it happened. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there.”
The thought of her seeing me only as a murderer, even though I am one, knots my stomach.
“Okay,” she whispers, maybe even a little relieved. “So what did you do with your mom at the beach?” She changes the subject, and I’m grateful for it.
“We played in the water, raced each other along the shore, all the things regular kids get to do,” I say. “And afterward we’d get gelato. We could pick any flavor we liked. It was the highlight of every week.”
The way it all ended still hurts.
“The house was quiet after Mama’s death. There was no more laughter, no more singing. She loved to sing. It made everything brighter.
“While she was alive, our home had warmth. Without her, it was cold and empty.”
My hands move slowly up and down Ella’s back, grounding myself in the simple fact that she’s here and I can hold her.
“You know, I understand better now what my father went through after losing her,” I continue. “He became a shell of his former self.
“When you were gone, it felt like part of my soul had been ripped out. Every day without you was bleak. I was scared for the first time in my life.
“My father had a decade with my mother. If I felt like this after only a few weeks, how much would it destroy me after years together if I ever lost you?”
I shift so I can look into my angel’s eyes. They brim with love.
“But still, Ella. I want to be with you every single day of my life.”
My gaze flicks between her eyes. I want her to understand how much she means to me, that my love for her is true and deep, that I was made only for her.
Her breath feathers my skin as I trace my lips along her jaw. My heart pounds when I reach her mouth and claim it as mine. Our tongues meet, and I drown in her, never wanting to come up for air.
She kisses me back with the same hunger, a soft whimper escaping her throat and going straight to my cock. It hardens instantly in my jeans as she arches closer.
My need for her spikes. I want her naked and beneath me, but not here. And not until we know that she and the baby are okay.
With monumental effort, I pull away, breathing hard. Ella rests her forehead against my chin as she fights for air too.
“I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” she whispers. “That was never my intention.”
The day she disappeared was one of the darkest of my life, and I want to forget it forever.
“We’re together now. That’s all that matters. Unlike my father after Mama’s passing, I had hope.
“Hope to find you again and fix whatever made you run. Hope we’d be together once more. That kept me going.”
She snuggles deeper into me and my arms tighten around her.
As imperfect as this setting is, this right here is perfection.
Ella lies on the examination table in the dimly lit obstetrician’s office, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she clutches my hand. Her fingers are cold, and I give them a reassuring squeeze.
“Our baby is going to be fine,” I murmur. “I can feel it.”
I hope my voice steadies her, and I pray my instinct is right, that the fall didn’t harm the precious life growing inside her.
Her pulse races beneath my fingertips. I rub her arm soothingly with my free hand.
We’re about to see our child for the first time. The thought sends a strange, unfamiliar sensation through my chest.
Only days ago, this felt impossible. Ella was missing. I knew she was carrying my child, but she was beyond my reach, and it drove me mad. Now she’s here. She’s giving us another chance. And, God willing, our baby is still safe.
I can’t wait to meet him.
A happiness I don’t recognize spreads through me. It feels strange, especially coming from me, but I feel like I’m glowing with it.
And it’s all because of her.
I bring Ella’s hands to my lips and press a gentle kiss to each fingertip. I smile at her as the ultrasound machine comes to life, its soft hum filling the room.
Dr. Barnes preps the equipment. I steal a glance at Ella, her face caught between apprehension and hope. I wish I could take every one of her worries away.
“Alright, Ella,” Dr. Barnes says, breaking the silence. “This is going to be a little cold.”
She applies gel to Ella’s abdomen, and I watch with bated breath as the probe moves across her skin. The screen flickers, a blurry image slowly sharpening into focus.
And then I see it.
The tiny, flickering heartbeat of our baby.
This small, rhythmic pulse is our love made visible.
My breath catches. Emotion rises fast and hard in my chest.
Fuck me.
I glance at Ella. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, awe and wonder written across her face.
“Tiero,” she whispers, her voice trembling, “that’s our baby…”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I manage a shaky smile.
“Yes,” I say, my voice thick. “It is.”
I engulf her hand in both of mine and bring it to my chest, holding it there as my heart pounds beneath her palm.
The doctor points out the features as the ultrasound continues. Tiny limbs. A developing spine. The precious outline of a head.
I’m overwhelmed. Life is taking shape right in front of us.
As the examination goes on, the doctor’s voice fades into the background. All I can focus on is that heartbeat flashing on the screen.
I meet Ella’s watery gaze and brush a tear from her cheek.
“He’s alright, angel,” I whisper, awe and tenderness threading through my voice. “All safe and snug inside you.”
Ella giggles, the sound light and unguarded, and it feeds something deep in my chest.
“Or her,” she corrects for what feels like the hundredth time. It makes me chuckle too.
“I can’t wait to meet this little one,” she whispers, her voice full of wonder.
Dr. Barnes prints a couple of images and hands them to me. They feel like a treasure in my hands. I take photos of them with my phone right away, wanting a piece of this moment with me always.
As the doctor finishes up, I pull Ella close, our foreheads touching.
“Thank you, angel,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me your love and this chance to be a father. You’re making all my dreams come true.”
Who would have thought I’d have them at all?