Page 43 of Forbidden War (Forbidden 2)
KARINA
As soon asMarco is up and about again, he moves his things back into our bedroom. It feels like a fresh start for us, and I’m more than ready for it. Almost losing him…it shook something inside of me. Inside both of us, I think.
But it settled something inside of me, too.
It had been so easy to let my hurt and anger outweigh the tender emotions I felt for my husband. The hope and the want and the love—the depth of it scared me. I didn’t want to make myself even more vulnerable to him.
Which is why, instead of just sitting Marco down to talk and figure out what the two of us needed to do to make things right again, I was so quick to turn away. I let the sting of betrayal and the bitterness of resentment rule my actions. I built that wall between us as an act of self-defense. A lifetime of neglect and abuse will do that to you. But now I know better. I know that we can be better. Because we trust each other, and we have faith in the strength of our bond.
In hindsight, I wish it hadn’t taken an act of violence for me to admit that I truly want to be with him. For always.
“There, what do you think?”
He steps back from the bed and gestures at his handiwork. I pause from rearranging the clothes in the closet to look. There’s a teddy bear nestled between our pillows, a dignified little thing wearing a top hat, a shirt and vest, and button-front trousers with little boots.
I can’t help laughing as I go to the bed and scoop the bear up. “Where did this little guy come from?”
Marco shrugs, seeming almost bashful. “I got it weeks ago, but it never seemed like the right time to give it to you. It’s supposed to be Mr. Darcy—I Googled Jane Austen teddy bear, thinking it might put a smile on your face. Forgot I had it stashed under the bed. You like it?”
“He’s adorable. That was so thoughtful. And so cheesy,” I tease.
He shrugs one strong shoulder. “Yeah, well, I happen to know that women love cheese.”
“We do. We really do. And this is the cheesiest.”
After giving Mr. Darcy a kiss on the nose, I set him next to my pile of books on the nightstand and then wrap my arms around Marco.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You really like it?”
Looking up at Marco, I smile. “I love him. Really. You did good.”
He smiles back and dips his head down to kiss me—and I so want him to—but a knock on the door interrupts us.
“Better go see who that is,” I tell him. “That knock sounded very official.”
I finish hanging up my things, the sound of Marco’s voice in the background. Once the door closes, I feel his arms loop around me from behind, his lips pressing against my neck.
“Grab a sweater and some comfy shoes,” Marco says.
This tugs at my curiosity. “Are we going somewhere? I thought you had that doctor’s appointment after breakfast.”
“We are, and I do. But I’ve arranged a little something for when we get back. I just got word that they’re getting everything ready.”
Oh, I like the sound of that.
He kisses me, soft and sweet, and then we head down the hall to eat.
It turns out that Dante and Frankie are having breakfast in bed, so it’s just me, Marco, and Armani, who mostly keeps himself occupied with his newspaper. After my altercation with Armani in the hospital courtyard, I’ve been more or less avoiding the middle Bellanti brother, but today I barely notice his presence. Sitting as close to Marco as I can, I take comfort in my husband’s nearness.
As we enjoy an Italian-style breakfast of ciambellone and apple cake and a generous spread of cold cuts and soft-boiled eggs, the brothers make small talk, which I don’t pay much attention to. Anxious to have Marco to myself again, I eat as fast as I can, trying to not look like I’m inhaling my food, then put my napkin on my plate and lean back in my chair with my coffee. Marco gives me an amused glance.
“What?” I whisper. “I was hungry. Built up an appetite this morning.”
“Clearly.”
He squeezes my knee and winks. The gesture floods me with desire, heat instantly pooling in my core. Is it bad that I want to take him straight to our room and give him another workout between the sheets before he goes to the doctor?
He leans closer to me with a knowing look. “We can be late for my appointment.”
The newspaper crinkles harshly across the table. Armani slaps it on the table and lets out a long suffering sigh. “I’m sitting right here.”
Marco’s boyish smile does little to placate his brother. “Forgot you were still here, bro.”
Armani raises a brow, not smiling. “Donovan is waiting to take you.” His tone is final. “Your personal security team is standing by as well.”
My husband stiffens but he doesn’t argue. Neither do I. This is Armani, after all. The scary one.
True to Armani’s word, a black SUV with tinted windows is parked out front when we step outside the door. Both Viking and another huge guard are waiting for us, and Donovan appears to be wearing a bulletproof vest. He flashes his usual warm smile at me, as if this level of precaution is nothing out of the ordinary, but it doesn’t stop the nerves that are making my heart pound. I have no idea if all of these guards can be trusted, or if we’re going to be followed to the doctor’s office. We could be under surveillance even now. But I can’t live my life in fear.
I give Marco’s hand a squeeze, hoping to reassure him and myself. Then he helps me into the car and slips in beside me. Viking sits on my other side, and the guard whose name I don’t know sits up front with Donovan. The drive to the hospital feels a little cramped, but the situation gets straight up awkward when the bodyguards hover close during Marco’s appointment. They ignore the nurse when she tells them to stay in the waiting room, posting up outside the exam room door instead. Their hulking, black-clad bodies are the last thing I see as the nurse closes the door on me and Marco in a huff.
Minutes later the doctor appears. She seems unruffled, as if she’s accustomed to treating the kinds of patients who bring an armada of guards with them. She performs an exam on Marco, asks a few questions, and orders another scan of his head just to be safe. The whole ordeal is a lot less stressful than I’d anticipated, and the doctor puts me at ease when she tells us that Marco is doing great and that we can expect him to be as good as new in no time.
I don’t say it out loud, but all I can think of is that when Jessica took that bullet for Marco, intentionally or not, she probably saved his life. I may have despised her once, but in death, she’s a hero. I owe her my current happiness, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful to her.
