Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(77)
One perk of having a driver is having both of my hands free for eating.
The patient has already been given the epidural by the time I get to the operating room, and after I examine her, I perform the procedure right away, as she’s starting to dilate and one of the twins is positioned the wrong way. The mom-to-be frets the entire time—she’s in her early forties and wasn’t able to conceive until her sixth IVF cycle—and when I place the two tiny but perfectly healthy boys in her arms, her face lights up with such joy that I have to blink away a few tears.
“Thank you, Dr. Cobakis,” she says fervently as the nurses take the babies for their tests. “Thank you so much for everything.”
“It was my pleasure, believe me,” I tell her as I check her bandages one last time and jot down some notes in her chart. “Some pain and bleeding is expected after the procedure, but if you start to run a fever or are in severe pain, call me, okay?” I give her a strict look. “I mean it. Any time, day or night.”
“Will do. You’re so kind.” Her teary-eyed smile is exhausted but full of joy. “Is it true what I overheard from the nurses? You’re getting married this weekend?”
Rumors certainly travel fast.
Stifling a sigh, I say, “Yes, I am. But you can still call me if anything. I’ll be around, okay?”
“Oh, thank you! And congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be a beautiful bride.” She beams at me, and I smile back, enjoying the uncomplicated interaction.
Unlike everyone else in my life, this woman doesn’t know that this wedding is coming out of nowhere, or that I’m marrying a man most of my friends haven’t met.
“Get some rest and enjoy your sons,” I tell the new mom, and then I head back to the office to wrap up the day.
Maybe Peter has the right idea about not dragging this out any longer than we have to.
With any luck, the wedding madness will be over by Monday, and then things will return to normal—or at least as normal as they can be when you’re married to the man who once kidnapped you.
59
Peter
I give Danny an evening off and pick up Sara myself, too eager to see her to wait the extra few minutes necessary for her to get home. I’m glad she’s neither volunteering at the clinic tonight nor has a performance, because even the hours she spends at work are too much time apart for me.
I need her with me. Always.
She comes out of her office building, her hazel eyes searching the street—looking for Danny, no doubt—when I open the car door and step out.
Her gaze immediately swings to me, and a smile lights her pretty face as she heads my way. It’s a warm summer day, and she’s wearing a sleeveless gray dress that hugs her ballerina-like frame. Her shiny chestnut waves bounce around her slender shoulders as she walks, and I’m again reminded of a fifties Hollywood starlet transplanted into modern times.
My beautiful ptichka.
I can’t fucking wait until she’s my wife.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly, stopping in front of me. “Did you get a new car? I didn’t know that was—”
I catch her face between my palms and slant my mouth across hers, kissing her deeply. I can’t help myself. I crave everything about her, from the sweetness of her scent to the way her slim body arches against mine, her hands clutching helplessly at my biceps. I want to devour that sweetness, drink it in until I quench this raging thirst—though I know there’s no quenching it.
I’m going to crave her until the day I die.
Becoming aware of some irritating giggling, I lift my head and pin the offenders—a pair of teenage girls standing a dozen feet away—with a harsh glare. They skitter away instantly, their faces paling under the heavy layer of their makeup, and I turn my attention back to Sara, who’s blinking up at me, her soft lips swollen and rosy from the kiss.
“Hi, ptichka.” Fighting the urge to reclaim those lips, I lower my hands to her shoulders, squeezing gently. “How was your day?”
“It was good.” She still sounds a bit out of breath. “How about you?”
“Also good. I got this new car for us.” I nod toward the black Mercedes S-560 behind me. At first glance, it looks like any other luxury sedan. A closer inspection, however, would reveal that the windows are made of bulletproof glass and that the metal frame is unusually sturdy.
It cost me a pretty penny, but it’s worth it. I’m not expecting anyone to shoot at us, but one never knows. Plus, this car is pretty much indestructible in a crash—something that’s very important to me after what happened with Sara in Cyprus.
“Nice,” she says, even as a tiny frown forms between her eyebrows. “What about my old Toyota?”
“I sold it.”
She steps out of my hold, her frown deepening. “You didn’t think to consult me?”
I’m tempted to haul her to me and kiss her again until she forgets whatever it is that upset her about this. However, we’ve put on enough of a show for the passersby, so I just ask, “Were you attached to that car, my love? I can get it back if it has some sentimental value.”
That doesn’t seem to please her either. “No, I don’t care about the car. It’s just…” She squares her shoulders and looks me in the eye. “Peter, I need you to involve me in decisions that affect me—that affect us both. You told me once that this can be a partnership if I wanted, and I want that now. It’s important to me.”