Page 142 of Unholy Union
His mouth quirks. “What about you, principessa? What did you think when you found out you’d be becoming Mrs. Cato Valente?”
I wrinkle my nose, trying to recall the exact morning in Papi’s office.
It feels like almost a lifetime ago now, even if it’s only been six months.
“It was one of the worst moments of my life.”
He barks out a laugh. “Thanks.”
“Can you blame me?” I grin, reaching out to flick his shoulder. “I was twenty-three! I wasn’t expecting to get married for at least another five years. Tessa and I were supposed to go to Europe over the summer and enjoy ourselves.”
Cato cocks a brow at me, eyes glinting. “Enjoy yourselves, huh? You mean like you two enjoyed yourselves at Nocturna that night?”
“Oh my god, first the cyanide, now this! You Valente’s sure know how to hold a grudge.”
“Says the Corsini who held one of the biggest grudges in human history.”
I dismiss the accusation with a snort. “That was my father. You can’t blame me for his insanity. But Icanblame you for refusing to let go Nocturna!”
“Let it go?” He pins me under him in the blink of an eye. I’m pressed back into the pillows, anchored by his delicious and familiar weight as he hovers over me and his tone turns thick and possessive. “How could I let it go when you were grinding on another man right in front of me? A man who wasn’t me.”
I bite my lip, cheeks flushing hot. “He wasn’t who I was thinking about though.”
“No?”
“I was thinking about you.”
“Yeah? And when I brought you back here?”
“What do you think? I… I enjoyed it,” I admit, face burning. “And I hated myself for it.”
His hand slides over my hips, tracing the curves as if he’s memorizing me all over again.
“I think we might need to do some more practicing then,” he growls against my throat, lips brushing the skin under my jaw.
I shudder at how his warm breath fans across my skin and his hands glide over my curves, gripping and fondling me.
“That’s never stopped me from mouthing off before, you know.”
“Trust me,” he says, smirking. “I’m counting on it.”
I giggle at how teasing he’s being and how playful the moment feels, deciding I might as well tell him what’sreallybeen on my mind all night long.
It’ll only make the moment feel that much more celebratory.
“Cato?”
“Hmmm?”
I take a breath, peering up at him, stroking his jaw. “Did you notice I didn’t have any wine tonight?”
His muscles tense, the one in his jaw clenching against my palm. “You drank all that iced tea…”
“It’s because the wine from the other night made me nauseous,” I admit. “Which was weird, because I’ve never reacted that way before. So I… I took a test. Well, three.”
“Three tests,” he repeats, his thick brows furrowing. “Sabrina, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m pretty sure… um, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”
