Page 9 of His Queen

I place my palm on my forehead. “Well, yeah. Someday.”

“And Nicoli?”

“He mentioned it the other day, saying he wants kids. But I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” I stomp over to the chaise and take a seat on it, leaning back, not caring that I’m wrinkling all the samples. “I think event planning is enough of a commitment for me right now.” I stare up at the covered ceiling. “I feel like the world’s biggest brat by not being satisfied with my life—a life most would die to have.”

“You’re not a brat,” Leandra says as she shoves my legs to the side so she can take a seat. “Our DNA compels us to have purpose. And right now, your purpose is to give Abigail Winslow the wedding of her dreams.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t say it like that.”

“How did I say it?” She chuckles.

“Compared to your purpose of raising happy children, mine sounds…superficial and stupid.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not stupid. You know what you need?” She takes my hands and pulls me up, and I suddenly turn into a petulant child who doesn’t want to believe that Santa isn’t real. “You need to find a way to tell your husband that you’re doing this. Having his support will only make you enjoy this so much more.”

“And how do you suppose I do that? Make a big, bright, bold sign and hold it up over my head for him to see as he parks his car in the driveway?”

She frowns. “Even though I do love that idea, I think mine is better.”

I straighten, wiping a wisp of hair from my face as I try to pull my shit together. “And what is your idea?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned while being married to Alexius, it’s that you have to make them see you.”

I purse my lips. “My husband sees me plenty, I can assure you. In fact, last night he really got in there and saw—”

“Please,” Leandra interrupts, shoving her finger against my mouth. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“O…kay,” I say against her finger with my lips all scrunched up.

Leandra glances around my office and grabs the champagne blush silk sample off the chaise. “You are going to put together the best wedding this city has ever seen. You are going to pour your heart and soul into this project, and somehow we will get Nicoli to that wedding so he can see what your life’s passion looks like.”

I’m about to tear up as my best friend stares at me with so much compassion, I can practically feel it soak into my heart.

She pulls me in for a hug, and I’m reminded of how much I appreciate having this woman in my life. Leandra is the strongest person I know, and I’m so lucky to have her in my corner.

“Thank you.” I squeeze her tight.

“We’ll make him understand,” she assures me as she steps back. “I do have one request, though.”

“Anything.”

She grabs the champagne blush fabric from the chaise and holds it out to me. “You’re going with this color. It’s beautiful.”

I smile and take it from her and slide the silk through my fingers. “Deal.”

“Now, get started on the wedding of the century.” She winks and saunters out of my office, closing the door behind her. The smile that spreads across my face can’t be stopped after Leandra’s pep talk. She’s right. Maybe telling Nicoli how important it is for me to do my own thing isn’t the way to go. I need to show him. Maybe then he’ll understand. And maybe once I prove to myself I’m capable of doing something on my own, I’ll be ready to take the next step in my life. Become a mother.

I take a seat at my desk and pull my laptop closer. Ever since Nicoli mentioned children the other day, I’ve found my thoughts wandering to my mother, at least what I can remember, which isn’t much. Maybe that’s why I’m hesitating, doubting myself, thinking I don’t have what it takes to be a mother. I didn’t have one growing up. Mrs. Del Rossa has always been there for me, and I love her dearly. But it’s not the same. And with her living in Tuscany now, who will I ask for help if I don’t know how to change my own baby’s diaper? Who will I go to for advice when my baby is crying and I have no idea why? Sure, I have Leandra, and God knows she’s the best mother in the world. It comes so naturally for her. But there’s a part of me that wishes my mom could have been here, be the one I turn to.

I’m staring at the search engine on my laptop as my fingers hover over the keys, then start typing my mother’s name. Natalia Tirelli. It’s not the first time I’ve tried searching her name on the internet. I’ve typed her name into that little search box a million times, but I’ve never been able to get myself to press enter. As much as I want to know more about my parents’ murder, there’s always been a sense of dread that comes with it. It’s impossible to erase something you wish you didn’t know, which is why I chose to…not know, why I never pressed Mr. Del Rossa for answers about that night.

I glance out the window as I take in a deep breath. It’s an overcast day outside, the sky a dull gray color. Our winter is here, and it’s only going to get colder.

Turning my attention back to my laptop, a faint memory of my mother’s face trickles in. But it’s hazy, and I know if I force it, the image will turn into the one I fight to forget every day of my life. Her lifeless eyes.

Natalie Tirelli. It’s right there in the search box and that damn enter key is taunting me. Why now? After all this time, why would I want to dig into the past now?

“Goddammit.” I press enter and shut my eyes, my heart beating impossibly fast. There’s a chill that ripples down my spine, and a voice screaming in my head to not open my eyes.

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