The Kiss Thief(97)

“Arthur,” his voice boomed in the room, “I beg you, please let me talk to your daughter. My wife is, and always will be, the most important thing in my life.”

My heart burst in my chest at his words, and I quivered, feeling the heat of a thousand suns warming me from the inside.

“You will never make her happy for as long as you hang my sins over her head,” my father warned. My husband was still on his knees, and I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. They rushed down in the form of a sob. I slapped a hand over my mouth, afraid they’d hear me.

Wolfe smirked, his eyes flashing with determination.

“I do not intend to do that anymore, Arthur.”

“Does that mean you will stop messing with my business?”

“That means I will make an effort to play nice for her.”

“What about White and Bishop?” my father asked.

“I’ll do whatever I see fit with them.”

“I can take Francesca awa—”

“No, you can’t,” Wolfe interfered, cutting him sharply. “The only person who is in a position to take Francesca away from me is Francesca herself. It’s her choice who she wants to be with—not mine. Definitely not yours. You’ve killed my brother, then my parents. My wife is where I draw the line. You cannot take her. I will unleash hell if you do.”

I closed my eyes, feeling my body swaying from side to side. I hadn’t eaten all day, and the scent of the cigar made me want to throw up.

“Go to her,” my father said brokenly.

My husband got up on his feet.

Then, for the second time in my life, I swooned.





I WOKE UP COCOONED IN my husband’s arms.

He sat on the king-sized bed, my head resting on him in the exact same position we were curled in when we were in the barn, when he showed me Artemis. His spicy cologne and distinctive male scent engulfed me in comfort, and I pretended to be asleep a little longer, prolonging the uncomfortable conversation that waited at the end of my slumber.

He dragged the tip of his fingers over my back through my shirt, pressing a kiss to my hairline. I visited the memory of him kneeling in front of my father, telling him that I was the most important thing to him. Warm honey coated my heart.

“I know you’re awake,” I heard my husband murmur to my temple. I groaned, shifting in his arms. The thought that these arms were wrapped around Karolina Ivanova a week ago made me want to throw up all over again. I propped myself on my forearms, shooting him a tired look.

“You’re pregnant.” He looked down at my stomach as if he was expecting to see a bump. Seeing his face again was the greatest gift I’d ever been given. It was absurd to think I dreaded said face the morning after the masquerade. Shortly after, he became my favorite thing about myself. I became his reminder that there was something more than vengeance and justice in this world. We were co-dependent, and we had to co-exist. One without the other was a dormant being.

To be alive and not really living was a terrible curse.

“It’s yours.” I put my hand on his for emphasis.

“I know.” He ran the tip of his nose along mine, gathering me in his arms as though I was something great and precious and hugging me close.

“Does that make you unhappy?” I sniffed.

“Becoming a father? I always thought it would. I was sure life ended when parenthood began. But that was before I found someone worthy to start a family with. I’m still not entirely sure about my abilities when it comes to parenthood. Luckily, I know my wife will be the best mother this planet has to offer.”

Silently, my eyes raked the room. There was so much I wanted to say, but I knew that it could break something that was not yet even glued.

“What about you, Nem? Are you happy being pregnant?”

I straightened, swallowing my fear and letting the words rip from my throat before I lost my courage.

“I’m…unsure. We’re constantly fighting. We set a world record in miscommunications. And you just slept with someone else a week ago to get back at me—and not for the first time. I kissed Angelo last week, furious with the truth about you and my father, but I didn’t take it any further. We’re volatile and unfaithful. We don’t live in the same wing…”

“We will,” he cut me off. “If that’s what you want.”

“We need some time to think.”

I needed some time apart from him. Not because I didn’t love him, but because I loved him too much to make a conscious, healthy decision for our baby.

“There’s nothing to think about. I didn’t sleep with Karolina. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to—God, Nemesis, I wanted to fuck you out of my life for good—but there could never be anyone else. It is you that I love. It is you whom I want. It is you whom makes living a spectacular thing I want to experience, rather than participate in reluctantly, every day.”

I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks, fat and salty. We were so good at hurting each other. This had to stop.

“I kissed another,” I whispered. “I cheated on you.”

“I forgive you.” He cupped my cheeks in his big hands. “Forgive yourself, and let’s move on. Come back home, Nem.”

“Nothing happened in that hotel room.”

“I don’t give a fuck what happened between then and there. I believe you, but it makes no difference. I want to start this over. The right way.”