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"I had my contact at the police station run his prints through the database, but we found nothing."
"Nothing?" I blink.
"Whoever he is, he’s managed to cover his tracks well."
"Or it could mean that he is innocent?"
"Maybe." He cups my cheek. "When do you want to take the test?"
I draw in a breath. "Now."
"You sure? We can wait until you feel stronger."
"I feel much better now that you’re here." And it’s true.
As long as Michael is with me, I can face anything. Only question is, what will his reaction be when I tell him about the potential consequences of my pregnancy?
Christian
Earlier today, I spoke with Michael on the phone, and he told me that my triplet is stable but still unconscious.
I felt guilty about staying away when my family needs me, but Michael convinced me that it was just as important for me to woo my wife and bring her back home. I had hesitated and he was insistent that I take as much time as needed to consolidate my relationship with Aurora. He promised that he’d call me if anything changed in my triplet’s condition, and that’s when I finally relented.
We spent an idyllic weekend in Aurora’s apartment, after which she went back to work, returning exhausted every day. Seeing her in her natural habitat, taking in just how much effort she put into her role as a doctor, has put things in a new light. Oh, I knew she was clever and that she was a good doctor, but I had never appreciated just how much of herself she puts into building up her career… To be fair, it’s more than a career; it’s a calling. And it feels wrong to ask her to give it up and move back to Palermo with me.
So, I haven’t. Instead, I’ve focused on the now, and the time I have with her. I’ve made sure that there was food to eat—yes, I did order it in— when she got back and ensured that she got a good night’s sleep. After I fucked her, of course.
That’s how we passed most of the week, and now it’s Friday, and I’m scheduled to fly home tomorrow.
The doorbell rings, and I let in the caterers. They get to work laying the table, complete with cutlery, candles, and wine glasses. They place the prosecco in the bucket and leave. Just in time, for a few minutes later, Aurora walks in.
She takes one look at the table and pauses. "Wow," she breathes, "what are you celebrating?" She kicks off her boots, takes off her coat and drops it, along with her bag, on the sofa in the living room. She walks over to the table and raises the lid of one of the dishes. The tangy scent of spaghetti fills the space. "Oh, yum." She reaches for a fork, and I click my tongue.
"Now, now, don’t be naughty, my Flower."
"But I’m hungry," she whines. "I’ll take only a bite; I promise." She dips her fork into the food, scoops up some of the strands, and brings it to her mouth.
"Oh my god," she groans, "this is so good. Did you have it catered from a Michelin-starred restaurant?"
"Even better." I smirk. "I had Zia Anita’s Cucina make it special for us."
"Zia Anita?" She blinks. "You have an aunt who lives here?"
"She’s actually my cousin’s husband’s sister’s uncle's wife."
"Huh?" She scowls. "Isn't your cousin's husband's sister's uncle the same as your cousin's husband's uncle?"
My grin widens, and she frowns. "You’re kidding me, right?"
"Almost." I laugh. "She really is a distant relation who moved to London thirty years ago and now runs one of the most authentic Sicilian restaurants in all of London."
"Right…" She licks her lips. "Well, whoever she is, her spaghetti rocks."
"I’ll be sure to tell her that." I walk over, then scoop up some of the sauce from the corner of her lips and bring it to my mouth. "Hmm…" I survey her features. "You’re right; it really is delicious."
Her pupils dilate, and by god, I’m sure I can smell the ripe scent of her arousal. I wrap my fingers around her wrist, then bring the fork to my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the tines, and a whine spills from her lips.
"Not fair," she whispers, "you’re seducing me."
