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I ignored him.
“Look at me.”
“No…”
“I fuck you every night like we’re still in that hotel room.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Because watching you struggle to carry my child is a turn-on.”
I hesitated before I looked at him.
“It’s purely biological and animalistic, but it turns me on, nonetheless. And once our baby is born and your body is different, either because it carries scars or stretch marks, those will turn me on too, because of the sacrifice you made.”
This man was something else.
“Now get on your hands and knees.” He grabbed the sheets and tugged them off my body. “Face down, ass up.”
I noticed Bartholomew had spent a lot of his time outside, braving the intense cold like it wasn’t a second thought. When I looked through the windows, I saw him on our property, farther down in the valley.
I had no idea what he was doing.
We owned a lot of land, so much of it that there wasn’t another house in sight.
He eventually returned in the late afternoon before it got dark. He stripped off his jacket and left it on the coatrack by the front door before he walked inside. Dinner was on the stove, and he took a quick glance to see what was on the menu before he washed his hands in the sink. Then he walked up to me, gave me that look I never saw him give anyone else, and kissed me as he pulled me close, his hand on my ass as always.
I melted on the spot. “So…what were you doing out there?”
“I got an idea.”
“Like a gazebo?”
“No. An old acquaintance of mine started a winery to wash his money, but then worked at it full time once he retired from his other profession. Thought I could do the same.”
“We’re going to have a winery?” I asked in surprise.
“No. Olive oil. We’ll have olive groves throughout our property. It’ll give me something to do. Something legal. One day, our children will ask how we have money when we don’t work. I’d rather them see me as a hard worker than a lazy enigma.”
“They would never think that.”
“It’ll also give me something to do with them. Something to bond over.”
“Yeah, that’s nice.” I was glad he’d found something to invest his time in, because he’d been a free agent these last few months. I’d expected him to crack at some point, to succumb to the boredomor become resentful toward me. But he never did. “Dinner should be ready, so I’ll set the table.”
As if he didn’t hear what I said, he changed the subject. “I thought we could go into Florence tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I need to grab a few things.”
“Alright.”
We drove into the city, a thirty-minute drive, and then left the car at his apartment. His staff was still there, having nothing to do when he wasn’t in residence. We’d discussed having them come to our Tuscan villa, but we also enjoyed this time alone.
We entered his bedroom on the top floor, and that was when I saw the white dress laid out on the bed.
I stilled when I saw it, taking a moment to understand exactly what I was looking at.
