Page 88 of The Red Queen

Theresa beamed at him and showed them up to their room, which belonged to Desi’s younger sister who would bunk on a cot in her father’s office.

Desi and Giovanni were left alone.

Desi turned to him, contrition on her face.

“Don’t even try it, wife,” he said, walking slowly toward her.

“Try what?” she asked innocently.

“Try pretending you’re sorry for taking off on that damn cruise ship,” he growled, shoving her back on the bed and reaching for her boots, kneeling at her feet to pull them off one at a time. “I should blister your ass for that.”

She laughed as he rocked back when the boot finally gave, sliding off her foot. “But Iamtruly sorry. That cabin was terribly cramped, and the buffet food was awful.”

He chuckled, flipped her over, and slapped her ass hard.

She yelped as the heat spread, then settled into a fire that moved quickly to her pussy. She rolled over and stared up at her husband, who was climbing on top of her. She gripped his face and lifted herself to kiss him.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“You will never leave me again,” he grunted, his gaze becoming serious. “No excuses. If you do anything like this again, I will lock you up and spend the rest of our lives creating a palace for you in my dungeon. You will have every luxury, but you will never again see the light of day.”

Desi knew he was telling her the truth and she accepted it. She would rather be his captive than live any kind of life without him. Her fingers danced down his chest and she undid the buttons before shoving the fabric back. A gasp flew from her lips as she saw his bare chest.

“No vest!” She thumped him in the sternum and glared up at him. “You could have been killed.”

He smiled down at her and shook his head. “I was never in any danger.”

She touched his arm, which was wrapped in a bandage. “I’ve never seen anyone shoot the way you did today, but no matter how magnificent you are, you’re not bulletproof. You need to take better care of yourself. Our baby will need a protector.”

“He’ll have two,” Giovanni said, kissing her nose and tapping her gently in the center of her forehead. “You will be a fiercely protective mother.”

A wave of vulnerability hit her. She loved the creature growing inside her, but she didn’t know if she could be a good mother.

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“Because I know you,” he said seriously. “You have exceeded any expectations I could’ve had. You are compassionate, kind, loyal, loving, and generous.”

She frowned at him. “Have you been spending time with another woman? That doesn’t sound like me.”

He chuckled, but then quickly sobered. “It’s time to look to the future and let the past go. Become the woman you want to be.”

She nodded. “I will, but I have one more thing to do before we leave Mexico.”

“Anything formio amore.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Desi was back at the beginning, where she’d been taken, beaten and spit out for the world to ravage. Only she hadn’t collapsed, she hadn’t given up, and she hadn’t died. She came back stronger.

Giovanni stood next to their borrowed jeep. He nodded to her, then cupped his hand over a cigar and lit it. The scent, familiar and comforting, wrapped around her. Giovanni’s men fanned out, tasked with keeping her safe while she took one last tour of her previous home, the Garza compound.

Desi picked up the sledgehammer Giovanni had Dino purchase for her. She swung it as she strode toward the burnt bones and ashes of Nico Garza’s pride and joy, his once beautiful mansion. She carefully picked her way through the mess toward where her bedroom would have been.

There was almost nothing left. No bed, no wardrobe, no closet. She would’ve mourned her incredible collection of designer shoes, except Giovanni ensured that she had every shoe her heart could desire.

Giovanni was right. It was time to let go of the past, to cleanse it from her brain and her heart and move into the future with her growing family.

She stood next to the only item of hers that had survived the fire, her bathtub. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was smelling bubbles and soap rather than acrid smoke and dirt. She’d spent many pleasant hours in this bathtub, but still with the expectation that Nico could walk in at any moment, drag her from her bath and either vent his anger, his lust or whatever thought had popped into his head.

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