Chapter Thirty-Seven Adriana
Things were still tense between us–but not so tense we didn’t need to look after the twins.
We shuffled into the apartment, the hum of the city fading behind us as the door clicked shut. My hand instinctively went to my belly, still in awe of the life—or rather, lives—stirring within. “What do you think about Alexander for him?” I mused, dropping onto the couch and sinking into its embrace.
“Alexander,” Tristan echoed, pulling off his shoes and joining me. His lips quirked up in amusement. “Catherine and Alexander. You’re going for a royal theme?”
“Maybe.” My laugh was light, but the fatigue of the morning clung to me like a second skin. It was hard to believe our twins would be here in less than five months. “I just want them to have strong names.”
“Strong, huh?” He leaned back, arm draped over the backrest, watching me with those eyes that always seemed to see right through me. “How about Callum? It’s Irish, means ‘dove.’ A symbol of peace and all that.”
“Callum,” I repeated, rolling it around on my tongue. It wasn’t bad. “What does Tristan mean?”
“Means hot as fuck,” he said, winking at me.
I couldn’t help but smirk at his response. Even in these uncertain times, his cocky confidence remained a constant. “You’re an idiot,” I muttered, swatting at him playfully. He caught my hand and drew it to his lips, the warmth of his kiss seeping into my skin.
He let go of me.
“Today was a lot, wasn’t it?” I sighed, my body feeling every bit of the exhaustive ultrasound appointment we’d just come from. I kicked off my shoes and leaned back.
Tristan’s gaze dropped to my feet, and he frowned at the sight of my swollen ankles. “Let me help with that,” he said softly, getting down on one knee before me. His large hands gently cradled my foot, thumbs pressing into the tender arches with just enough pressure to ease the ache without causing pain.
“Thank you,” I murmured, a small smile playing on my lips as I watched him. The way he knelt, so attentive and caring, it almost felt like he could propose all over again. I really hoped he wouldn’t.
Our conversation drifted, inevitably, to the upcoming gang moot. I knew how these meetings went, the undercurrents of power plays and veiled threats. Tristan said it was next week, and I could tell he was worried about it.
And as much as I wanted to shield our little family from it, I also understood it was part of who we were—especially for Tristan, the heir to a legacy he had not asked for but was born into.
“Tristan,” I started, the words heavy with all the unspoken fears that came with carrying our twins. “This moot... it’s not just another meeting. It’s dangerous, and you know it.” My voice trembled, betraying my worry.
He looked up at me, his hands still on my feet, and his touch was like a promise—an echo of the vows we’d taken. “I know, Ade, I do.” His voice was steady, but I saw something flicker in his blue eyes. “But this is my right. It’s what my father prepared me for.”
“Your father isn’t here, Tristan,” I said softly, my heart aching for him. “You’re going to be a dad now. Our babies...” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “They need you alive, not just carrying on a name.”
He let out a breath, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of my words. Then he kissed the top of my foot gently before rising to sit beside me. “I’m Malachy’s son in every way that counts. This empire, these streets - they’re mine to protect. And I’ve got to be there to ensure our future is secure.”
“Even if it means risking the present?” I countered, searching his face for some sign of doubt, some hope that he might choose us over the legacy.
“Especially then,” he replied, his jaw set. “Because without that security, what kind of future will our children have?”
I wanted to argue, to fight against the fatalism in his tone, but instead, I leaned into his embrace, seeking solace in the familiar strength of his arms. He held me close, and for a moment, the dangers lurking beyond the walls of The Callahan Domain seemed distant, like shadows at the edge of a dream. But they were all too real, and as much as I wished otherwise, I knew Tristan wouldn’t—couldn’t—walk away from them.
And that scared the shit out of me.
If there was no way of getting him out of it, I needed to be in it with him.
“Tristan,” I murmured into the quiet of the room, my voice laced with a plea. “I need to be at the moot. It’s not just about you; it’s our children too. Their safety, our future—it depends on the decisions made there.”
He tensed beside me, his body like a coiled spring, ready to unleash the full force of his authority if needed. His blue gaze, usually so calm and assured, flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—fear? No, Tristan Callahan didn’t do fear. Concern, then, for what he couldn’t control.
“Adriana,” he started, his tone low and even. “You know I would burn down the world before letting anything happen to you or the twins. But that moot is no place for you—the risk...”
“Risk?” I cut in sharply, pulling back to meet his eyes squarely. “Our lives are built on risk. I keep telling you, I’m not some damsel, Tristan. I’m an Orsini. And I can handle more than you think.”
I saw the conflict play out across his face. He understood my resolve, knew that my presence could sway the tides in ways others might not predict. Yet, his protective instincts surged like a riptide, threatening to pull us both under.
“Damn it, Ade,” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I want you safe, here, away from the crossfire.”
“Safe is an illusion in our world and you know that better than anyone.” My response was immediate, sharp with truth. “And you forget, Tristan—I don’t scare easy.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh.
“Okay,” he finally conceded, his voice rough with reluctance. “But we do this together. Every step, every decision—you’re by my side. There’s no way for me to talk you out of this, is there?”
“Tristan, you know as well as I do that these meetings are about more than just posturing and threats.” I stood my ground, feeling the weight of our family’s future pressing firmly on my shoulders. “The decisions made there will ripple through our lives. I need to be part of it.”
He paced before me, his movements controlled but revealing an undercurrent of agitation. “Your place isn’t on that battlefield, Adriana,” he countered, trying to mask the edge in his voice with a calm he clearly didn’t feel.
“Isn’t it?” I challenged, stepping closer to him. The morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow that did nothing to soften the steely resolve in my eyes. “I’m not just your…well, whatever I am, Tristan. I’m going to be a mother, and I’ll do whatever it takes to shield our children from the fallout of our world.”
“Damn it, Ade, it’s because you’re the mother of our children that you should stay away from the dangers that lurk there!” His voice rose, taut with the strain of a man torn between his heart’s desires and his mind’s logic.
“Exactly why I can’t,” I said, my tone laced with a passion that matched his own. “You think I can sit idly by while others decide our fate? Our babies’ fate?”
We were close now, almost toe to toe. The air around us seemed charged with electricity, with every breath we took amplifying the silent battle of wills taking place.
“Adriana,” he started, but I cut him off.
“Tristan, listen to me.” My hands found his chest, not to push him away but to forge a connection, to make him understand. “I am a partner in this life we’ve built, and I won’t be sidelined when everything we love is at stake.”
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw the internal war play out over his features—the protector versus the partner. He grappled with the instinct to keep me locked away from the danger and the knowledge that I was more than capable of standing with him.
“Adriana, I—“ His words faltered as he looked down at me, his expression a mix of admiration and exasperation. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Good,” I replied, a small, defiant smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “It means I’m getting through to you.”
“More like driving a stake through my plans,” he muttered, though I caught the hint of a reluctant smile on his lips as well. “But I can see there’s no changing your mind.”
“There never is,” I said, then went back to the couch. God, I was so tired…
Tristan closed the distance between us with a few heavy steps. He dropped to the couch beside me, and without a word, wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. The embrace was tight, almost crushing in its intensity, as if he could shield me from the world’s evils through sheer force.
“I can’t lose you, Adriana,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You and the twins...you’re my everything.”
The raw honesty in his voice cracked something inside of me. For all our sparring, all the sharp edges we both wielded so deftly, this vulnerability was what bound us most deeply. Here, in the circle of his arms, I felt the layers of our lives together—the love, the fear, the indomitable will to protect what was ours.
He didn’t know it yet–but I was also going to do whatever it took not to lose him.
Even if that meant killing my own father.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Tristan
She was so close. And she hadn’t pulled away.
The chaos of the city seemed a distant murmur against the silence in my apartment. I pulled Adriana closer on the couch, finding solace in her presence. My lips brushed hers, a gentle assurance amid the turmoil that constantly brewed outside these walls.
“Tristan,” she gasped out my name, in that way that always drove me crazy.
I kissed her again, this time with an urgency that mirrored the tightening grip I had on the reality we shared. My hand trailed up her arm, feeling the play of muscles beneath her skin, the heat of her blood rising to my touch. She leaned into me, her hands finding their way to the back of my neck, fingers pressing insistently, urging me on without a single word spoken.
“Ade,” I murmured against her mouth, tasting the name like a promise. A shudder ran through her as my hand wandered down her side, committing to memory the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip. With each caress, I stoked the fire within her, one that burned away any pretense of restraint we might have clung to before.
“Tristan,” she said again, her voice thick with everything unsaid, everything we knew but never voiced aloud. It was all there between us, in the press of her body to mine, in the fervent way our mouths moved together.
I pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes, searching for that silent permission she had never once denied me.
The world outside the walls of my apartment seemed to fall away; there was only Adriana, with her short, dark hair framing her face like a halo tipped in shadow, her breath a tantalizing rhythm against my skin.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice laced with a need that echoed my own. I didn’t need any more encouragement than that.
My hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the softness of her skin. A gasp escaped her lips, rewarding my boldness as I explored further, memorizing the topography of her changing body.
Adriana arched into my touch, her body responding with an honesty that words could never match. Her spine arched, pressing her closer to me as though she could merge our very beings with the force of her will. Her hands clutched at me, pulling me impossibly nearer, and I reveled in the feel of her beneath my fingertips.
“More,” she breathed out, a single word that was both command and plea. I obliged without hesitation, tracing circles over her ribs before venturing to the rise of her breasts, eliciting a moan that vibrated through me.
My hands roamed down the curve of her waist, fingertips grazing over the fabric of her blouse that seemed almost a sacrilege to the skin hidden beneath. She arched into my touch with an unspoken invitation, and I obliged, tugging the material free from her skirt to expose the expanse of her stomach. Her skin was warm against the cool air of the apartment, and I leaned in, pressing a trail of kisses along the softness of her belly.
“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice laced with urgency as her fingers tangled deeper into my hair, guiding me, grounding me.
“Can I?” The words came out huskier than I intended, my restraint teetering on the edge as I sought her permission.
“Please,” she said, and it was all the confirmation I needed. In that moment, her desire was clear, tangible as the heat radiating off her body. And it mirrored my own, a craving that pulsed through me with the force of a tidal wave.
“Say it, Ade,” I urged, needing to hear the words, to know this was what she wanted as much as I did.
“Fuck me, Tristan,” she breathed out, the raw need in her voice sending a jolt of pure desire coursing through my veins.
“Whenever you want.”
“Then you’d do nothing but fuck me.”
“Oh, that sounds awful,” I said. “Take off your pants.”
Her laughter filled the room as she slid her leggings down her legs, a delicious sound that echoed inside me, sparking a fire that only she could kindle.
Without another word, I lifted her effortlessly, feeling her body mold to mine as if we were two pieces expertly cut to fit together. Her legs wrapped around my waist, a silent acquiescence that spurred me on. I carried her over to the chair that stood isolated like an island in the midst of my apartment.
“Here,” I said, my voice gravelly, guiding her down onto me as I sat on the sturdy chair. The sensation of her settling onto my lap, my cock burying itself to the hilt in her tight pussy, her warmth enveloping me, was almost more than I could bear. Our movements were deliberate, unspoken communication flowing between us as easily as breath. She moved, and I responded.
“Tristan...” she moaned softly, and the sound was like music, a siren song that commanded my entire being.
“Adriana,” I replied, my hands finding purchase on her hips, guiding her rhythmically.
“Harder?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.
My grip on her tightened, my control slipping as I thrust upward with a fierce determination.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” I said. “Wait–”
In the haze of desire, I stood, lifting her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist as if they were meant to be there. Our lips crashed together, a messy union of need and affirmation as I carried her to the bed.
“Wait. Am I too heavy for you?” Adriana asked suddenly, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze that cut through the lust.
“Too heavy?” A chuckle rumbled in my chest as I held her gaze. “Ade, I could lift you up and carry you through a goddamn hurricane.”
“Is that the plan?”
“I don’t know. Are you into hurricanes?”
“What are you doing?” she asked, fighting a smile.
“Giving myself a second,” I replied. “I’m really close and I want to enjoy you for as long as I can.”
“Tristan,” she murmured against my mouth, her breath hot and quick. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I vowed, laying her down with a care that felt extremely difficult considering the raw hunger clawing at my insides. Her back met the sheets, but our connection never faltered. My hands roamed over her body, memorizing every curve and contour even though I knew them by heart.
The bed accepted our weight without protest. Her eyes locked onto mine, dark with promise and filled with the same reckless abandon that urged me on. I positioned myself above her, feeling the heat from her body beckon me closer, demanding all the love and ferocity I possessed.
“Show me,” she whispered, her voice laced with both command and vulnerability.
I obliged, moving with a precision that made her gasp.
“And for the record,” I added, lowering my voice to a growl, “I love every inch of you—especially these.” My hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks, eliciting another gasp from her lips.
She threw her head back, surrendering to the pleasure. My name was a mantra on her lips, fueling my need to claim her, again and again.
“Tristan,” she breathed out, her voice laced with laughter and want.
“Every time,” I assured her before capturing her mouth with mine once more.
I eased Adriana onto her side, her body curling instinctively as I molded myself to her back. The shift in angle brought a new depth to our connection, and her soft sigh encouraged me to push harder, deeper.
“Fuck...” She gripped the sheets, her voice climbing with each powerful stroke.
“Let it go, Ade,” I urged, feeling her body tighten around me, ready to tip us both over the edge.
“Are you going to come inside me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to come into your tight little pussy while you play with your clit. Is that what you want?”
I felt her nod against my chest, her fingers slipping down to where our bodies were joined, amplifying the pleasure that was building in us both. “Don’t stop,” she cried out, her voice a plea and a demand all at once.
“Tristan,” she murmured, her voice fraying as she neared the edge. I responded with primal need, my pace unyielding as I felt the tightening coil within her threatening to snap. “I need you... Tristan...” Her voice was a strained whisper, her body quaking underneath me.
“That’s it, love,” I groaned, my own climax rising hot and fast in sync with hers. “I’m here, Ade. Let go for me.” My fingers joined hers between her legs, circling her clit with a determination that matched my erratic thrusts.
“Fuck!” Her back arched off the bed, her body shaking as the wave of pleasure broke over her, carrying her away. I followed her into the abyss, the feel of her pulsating around me driving me to my own earth-shattering climax.
We crashed together in the aftermath, our breaths harsh and ragged as we clung to each other, grappling with the intensity of what we’d shared. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, matched by the pulsing rhythm where our bodies were still joined.
“Jesus,” Adriana said.
“Nope, just me.”
“You’re not funny.”
“A little funny,” I replied. “Are you okay?”
Adriana sighed. “Yeah,” she said, nuzzling into the crook of my arm as she sighed contentedly. “Never better.”
I kissed the top of her head, and wondered how long that would last for.