Page 117 of Possessive Mafia Vows

“Not exactly.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t press her. She’ll talk about it in her own time.

I notice then that one of her legs is raised above the bed. “What happened to your leg?”

“Long story.” She swallows painfully.

I fill a small plastic glass with water from the jug on the bedside cabinet, support her head with my arm, and raise the drink to her lips. There’s a lump the size of a tennis ball on the back of her head, and her jaw is mottled with blue-black bruising.

“Sienna, I’m so sorry. This should never have happened to you. If I’d been on that flight?—”

“Don’t, Kyle.” She settles back against the pillows, trying to get comfortable. “There’s no point wishing you could change things. We can only do what we think is right for us at any given moment in time.”

She is wise beyond her years, my leoin.

But I’m skirting around the question that I’m afraid to ask.

“Sienna, are you… I mean, the pregnancy, is it…”

I can handle a meeting with a renowned violent mafia don, the police commissioner, and the mayor of New York City, but I don’t know how to ask the woman I love if she is still carrying our baby.

“The baby is fine, Kyle.” Tears well in the corners of her eyes, and I catch them with my fingertip. “Ourbaby is fine.” She sniffs loudly. “This isn’t how I imagined telling you that you’re going to be a dad.”

I move in closer and kiss her on the lips. “We’re not like other couples, leoin. But I promise you on my life?—”

“No, Kyle. You should never swear anything on your life. Not even for me.”

“Too late. I already did. I will always protect you and our child, no matter what it takes. I will never let anything like this happen to you again.”

Her smile widens, even though her eyes are dark and heavy. “Thank fuck for that. Just keep me away from cliff edges, will you?”

“Deal.”

She grows quiet, pensive. “The doctors have suggested that I take it easy for a while. Until the pregnancy reaches the second trimester. The effects of trauma can take some time to present themselves.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t let you so much as lift a finger if I can help it. Think of me as your slave for the next eight months.”

“Slave, huh?” She slants her eyes. “Does that mean that I get to handcuff you and force you to pleasure me?”

“I don’t need forcing, leoin, but you can handcuff me and throw away the key if it makes you happy.”

Footsteps approach us from the corridor, and disappointment weighs me down. I’m not ready to leave her yet. But they keep on walking, and we both sigh with relief.

“You don’t have to stay here in Ireland.” I pull the visitor’s seat closer to the bed, sit down, and cradle her hand in mine. “We can fly back to New York as soon as you’re able to travel. You can move into my apartment, or we can find an apartment elsewhere. Whatever you want to do, Sienna. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be right there with you.”

I hesitate. Before she came to Ireland, Nick Morris had proposed to her, the gallery had been trashed, and our relationship was still teetering at the top of the roller coaster ride that began almost six years ago. Sienna might be having our baby, but we’ve never openly discussed how we feel about each other.

Pulse racing because I need to know, I add, “If you’ll have me.”

What will I do if she says no? What if she doesn’t want me to be a part of this baby’s life because she wants nothing to do with my family? What then? How will we move forward from this?

Sienna chews her bottom lip. “I think I’ll stay here, Kyle. For now. I don’t want to go back to the city.”

I wait for her to enlighten me on where I fit into her plans. Outwardly, I must appear calm, but inside, I’m swallowing great ugly sobs that I want no one to ever see.

“With you,” she says finally. “Because I love you too.”

I kiss her on the lips while the words to the Sum 41 song ‘With Me’ play in my head.

I’d wait here forever, just to see you smile, ’cause it’s true, I am nothing without you.

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