Isabella
Luke reached out to touch my abdomen again.
He was convinced I’d overheat under the Maltese sun, and had appointed his hand as my personal thermometer.
I raised my sunglasses to stare at him. Within the first five days, he’d tanned like some mythical Greek god.
My eyes lingered on his happy trail and the tight little navy swimming trunks he wore.
He was possibly Poseidon, and had a sea serpent for a cock.
“Darling, if you need cock, just ask. There’s no need to look so longingly at it,” he drawled.
“Ugh. You spoiled it by talking,” I said, pushing his hand off while he chuckled.
I rose from the lounger and stretched out.
This was my first proper adult break in years.
It was exhilarating, a true mental break from everyday life, without the constant weight of worrying about anyone else. It was our bubble. Though I did message the children every single day—but that was in the evening, so it didn’t count.
“If you want my ass, darling, just ask. There’s no need to perve on it,” I drawled, matching his tone from earlier.
The lounger scraped against the poolside tiles just as I dived into the water.
Sucker.
? ? ?
Luke’s thumb brushed over my wedding ring before he toyed with the diamond on the other. The evening air still held its warmth, the sky just edging toward dusk, streaked in soft violets and gold above the harbour.
But it was the view the restaurant was famous for—dark water rippling black against the glittering lights strung along the marina, boats bobbing gently at their moorings, laughter and music drifting faintly from somewhere further along the promenade.
I smiled to myself as the waiter who’d seated us brought over our drinks, the ice in my sparkling water catching the last of the light.
My new husband cleared his throat.
“My wife cannot have any raw or undercooked meat. No unpasteurised dairy. No raw eggs. No liver or paté. No alcohol. And no processed meat,” he rattled off.
Then came the smug smile.
“My wife is pregnant,” he declared, as if he expected the poor man to bow, in recognition of his own miraculous role in creating new life.
The waiter was too busy jotting it all down on a tiny paper pad.
I had no doubt in my mind about what kind of father Luke would be.
It wouldn’t matter to him whether he had a son or a daughter.
If I hadn’t known why he was like this, his intensity might have overwhelmed me.
But in those quiet, intimate moments, he’d shared his desires with me, as well as his fears.
His biggest one was the fear of failing his family.
I leaned in and placed my hand over his, turning the other palm-up to hold him. His gaze broke away from the waiter and the order he was placing. His smile softened, and those small creases—the ones I’d grown to love—gathered at the corners of his eyes.
“I love you,” I mouthed.
His other hand rose to rest against the white linen at the centre of his chest, before sliding over his heart.
Just a small, simple gesture. But I knew the depth of his love, unlike any other I’d known.
It was fate.
? ? ?
Luke opened the door for me, and I stepped into his home. The sculpture was gone, as well as the awful mirror wall. The foyer now looked more like a stately home entrance than a modern showhouse.
Warm light spilled from a chandelier overhead, catching on brass fittings and throwing soft gold across the walls, and the faint scent of fresh paint and sawdust still lingered beneath something richer—beeswax polish, maybe, or the wood itself.
The harsh white flooring had been replaced by deep, dark polished wood, cool and smooth beneath my sandals. It matched the ivory walls perfectly, and when I turned, I gasped.
There was a grand staircase now, tucked into the corner and split across two levels, curving gracefully upward into shadow.
The carpentry work on the bannister was astounding—hand-carved, intricate, the kind of craftsmanship that took months, not weeks.
I crossed the floor and touched the polished wood, cool beneath my fingertips, the grain smooth as glass.
It was more like a pillar than the beginning of a bannister.
No wonder he’d kept us away.
“Do you like your new home?” Luke murmured, coming to stand behind me, his breath warm against my ear.
I could still smell the faint scent of wood and paint in the air, mingling now with the clean, familiar note of his cologne.
“It’s like a different house. It’s stunning,” I said, unable to disguise the awe in my voice. “This is why we stayed in the pool house before we left for our honeymoon.”
“Yes, I wanted it to be a surprise for you.”
I took a deep breath and turned to face him properly.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered. “I love it, but I don’t want to be swept away by your wealth.”
His arm tightened around my waist, and I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek.
“I know, darling. You’re crazy for my cock.”
My slow smile became a grin, and I hugged him tighter.
He was utterly impossible.
In a few days, we’d all be living under one roof. Amber wanted to spend a few more days at home first, which was fine—I understood her hesitancy. There was a lot of change happening all at once.
Luke’s hand came to rest on the small bump that had only just begun to show over the last few days.
“Would you like a grand tour?” he murmured, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my dress.
I glanced up at him.
“Just the bedroom.”
He wiggled his eyebrows like a lecherous wretch.
“I need a nap. I’m exhausted.”
His expression turned serious at once, and he began ushering me toward the stairs, one hand hovering at the small of my back the whole way up.
I’d have laughed, but I was already falling asleep on my feet. The early flight and the long day of travel were finally catching up with me.
The bedroom, when we reached it, was softly lit—curtains partially drawn against the last of the afternoon light, the new bed impossibly large beneath crisp white linen, the whole room smelling faintly of lavender and something clean, unlived-in still, waiting to become ours.
What I loved most was that he climbed in beside me. His warmth and strength drew me close instantly, until my eyes fluttered and finally shut. I fell asleep with his palm resting against my belly, and quiet words of love and gratitude murmured against my ear.
Content.
I’d never felt this content, or this safe, in all my life.