Page 114 of Entangled

Cara frowned. “He’s still new. I don’t want to bottle-feed him. I’m better for him, Gian.”

Her body ached to feed her child.

“Not my call,” Gian said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Besides, what’s important is that he eats.”

Cara nodded, but only because she knew Gian was right.

Marcus had to eat.

It was that simple.

Surprisingly, Marcus took the bottle with Cara feeding it to him. He drank it slower, and with a scrunch to his nose, but he certainly didn’t give his mother the same kind of trouble he had given his father.

Gian took the baby to burp him—Cara didn’t have the strength—and then placed a sleepy Marcus into his mother’s arms. Cara took the time to look at her lover. A tired, strained smile stared back at her, but there was love, too.

Always love.

Gian dragged a chair closer to Cara’s bedside, and took a seat. His arm curled around her lower half, while his other swept through her curls to keep them out of her face. His forehead pressed to hers, and his lips dotted sweet kisses along the seam of her mouth.

“This will never happen again,” he promised.

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. At least, not by the person who did it, and not for the reasons it was done. It will never happen again, mia cara bella. Ever.”

Just the way his tone dipped, and his dark gaze lit with fire, Cara chose not to ask more questions. They were things she didn’t need to know, because she knew Gian.

She knew his love. She knew his providing, careful, strong hands. She knew his entire life and soul were the two things he was currently holding. It would always be enough for her.

“Let me help,” Gian said, offering Cara his hand to help her from the limo.

She took it, muttering, “I’m fine, Gian.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t need—”

“Gian, you need to relax. It’s been two weeks. The infection is gone. The doctor said I’ve healed well, internally and externally. I can get out of a car.”

He stared at her. “So?”

“Gian!”

“Let me help you, mon ange.”

Cara wasn’t going to be given much of a choice, it seemed. She let Gian help her out of the limo. She was better, two weeks after being released from the hospital. It was only Gian that hovered over her like a goddamn hawk, now, constantly on edge and ready to kill someone for even breathing in her direction.

She wished she was joking.

Cara smoothed down her black dress as Gian leaned in the car to grab her clutch and wide-brimmed hat. Funerals were not Cara’s favorite thing, not in the least, but this was one she refused to miss.

Even when Gian said she didn’t need to go, or there were some people who may be uncomfortable with his mistress’s presence. Even when he warned there would be media outside the church, although the private graveyard would be protected from unwanted attention.

Cara didn’t care.

She had to go.

For Chris?

Of course, she did.