"Fuck, did I hurt you?"
"God, no, Sven, what was that?"
His instant cocky grin made her slap his chest playfully. Her sated body craved nothing more than sleep at that moment. He pulled her into his frame, and tucked the covers around her.
"Sleep."
Just as she was drifting off, a wave of warmth flowed down her body at the emotion in the Swedish words he groaned into her hair.
"Jag älskar dig så mycket."
Tomorrow, she would get a Swedish dictionary.
Chapter Nineteen
Sylvia woke with a start the next morning as the bedroom door crashed against the wall. Timmy launched himself on her bed, excitedly yelling, "She's awake, she's awake. Told you she would be, Sven."
Her stomach tightened when the man himself walked in, clad in nothing but low riding jeans and balancing a breakfast tray in one hand. His deep voice washed over her, creating tingles in all the right places.
"I defy anyone to still be awake after that entrance, Hard Head. You promised to be quiet."
He gave Timmy a gentle nudge and set the tray down on the night stand.
"Scoot, boy, I want to kiss your mummy, too, and you need to change into your trunks if you want George to take you down to the beach."
"Beach, yeah, bye, Mummy." With another crash of the door and more excited whooping, Timmy was gone.
"Morning, pet. Not exactly the way I envisioned waking you up."
Sven's sexy growl increased her tingles to little shocks of electricity darting across her skin. He took the single red rose off the tray and slowly ran it over her collar bone before he drew her in for a lingering kiss.
"How are you feeling this morning, pet? Not too sore, I hope?"
She could only shake her head at the tender concern in his eyes. He kissed her nose, put the tray on her lap, and cleared his throat. "Good. I was worried I might have pushed you a little too far last night."
"Sir, last night was amazing. Thank you."
The satisfied grin he couldn't quite hide deserved the playful slap she gave him. He returned the slap with a nip on her shoulder, and a smile at her gasp, which he caught in his mouth. The kiss that followed left them both panting.
"You're amazing pet. Now, eat, and I'll run you a bath. As much as I'd like to climb in there with you, I've phone calls to make and heads to roll."
"Steve and Julia?"
Her heart ached at the shadow crossing his features. Then he raised his eyes and smiled at her.
"Yeah, though it will be enjoyable to tell them to fuck off once and for all."
"Will she run to the papers?"
His deep sigh vibrated through her, and he looked very tired all of a sudden.
"I don't know, my love. She might. I'll alert Vera anyway. I really don't care anymore, and, if it all kicks off again, then I can always sell this place and finance the film myself."
"But you love this place! You can't sell it."
"I love something else far more than this place, pet." Before she could ask him to clarify that grudging statement, he stalked to the bathroom.
Her heart beat a little bit faster, however, seeing the slight flush on his cheeks. He averted his gaze when he reappeared moments later and spoke in a voice even gruffer than before.
"Your bath is run, pet. I'll see you later."
****
The next few days passed in a dizzying blur of activity, marred only by inexplicable bouts of tiredness and nausea that seemed to hit Sylvia out of nowhere. She never seemed to get enough sleep, no matter how many lie-ins she had in the mornings. Then again, Sven scened with her every night with tender determination. That made her feel cherished, and had meant she whispered her overwhelming feelings for him more than once, when his even breathing had told her he was fast asleep.
They had easily slipped into their newfound Dom/sub relationship, and Sylvia had to check herself more than once to not call him Sir in front of others. Every time she almost slipped up, the approval written all over his features nudged her happiness up a few steps.
She was bound to be a bit tired, getting that kind of exercise every day, and she always felt sick when she was tired. That's what she told a concerned Ali anyway, when her eldest cornered her on the eve of their departure to Sweden. Alicia had witnessed her run to the toilet, where Sylvia had proceeded to lose the entire contents of her earlier lunch.
Sven had hammered out a tentative agreement with Bjorne Rasmussen regarding the script, and they'd shared lunch together with Bjorne, Axel, and the kids on their last day in California. Heat had risen in Sylvia's cheeks when Edith presented them with the steaming dish of Spaghetti Carbornara, and Sven's grin had been wickedness itself when he asked her, in an ever-so-innocent voice, whether she liked her spaghetti hard or soft these days.
"Oh, definitely hard, with extra sauce." Her drawled response had him choking on his sip of wine, and the look he'd thrown toward her made her toes curl in her sandals. The whole thing had passed over the kids' heads, fortunately. However, she'd noticed the thoughtful look that had passed between Bjorne and his partner, and Sylvia had felt it wisest to just get on with eating.
"Are you sure you're all right, Mum?" Ali asked again.
"Yes, stop fussing. I haven't slept all that well lately, that's all, and you know I always feel sick when I'm tired."
Sven calling her into his study had put an end to that conversation, and by the time Sven was introducing her to a miniature version of himself smiling at her shyly through the pc screen, she'd forgotten all about it. By the end of that very long Skype conversation, she was halfway in love with Sven's son, eager to meet him in the flesh.
She smiled at Sven, and he clicked off the monitor. Without a word, he crossed the distance from the computer to the door of his office, clicked the lock, and picked Sylvia up in his arms. He swept the papers off his desk with one easy move, and then claimed her lips with a bruising kiss. Sven spun her around, kicked her legs apart, bent her over, and then fucked her hard over his desk. That unexpected interlude left them both gasping for breath and trembling in each other's arms.
"What was that for?" Sylvia asked still fighting to get her breath back.
Sven's arms tightened across her. He mumbled something incredibly heartfelt in Swedish into her neck, following which he kissed her with such tenderness she had to bite her lip to not blurt out how much she loved him.
"That was just to show you you're the most amazing woman I've ever known, pet."
****
A week later, the slam of the front door signaled Sven's departure as he took off on his second run that day, leaving Sylvia to wonder what on earth had happened. She caught a glimpse of his departing back through the hallway window. The tightness of his shoulders made her sigh. She hadn't seen him this tense since the night of the premiere. In fact, it had been wonderful to witness Sven in his hometown surrounded by his family and friends.
Sven's parents had welcomed her and the children with open arms. Maria's delight at the fact that her son had brought a girl home, as she put it, was infectious. Sven’s father Markus had been more reserved. He'd spent the first few days watching her interactions with Sven and little Torsten through hooded eyes so like his son's, it had been a tad unsettling.
Sylvia had found herself alone with Markus on the third day when he'd walked in as she'd flipped through a photo album of Walter. She'd found it on one of the many book cases. She hadn't heard him walk in, so engrossed had she been in the pictures, which depicted every stage of the cruel illness in gory Technicolor detail. Tears had had streamed down her face. Walter had been a beautiful, bouncing baby boy, and the happiness of his proud parents leaped off the page. Her tears had started rolling in earnest at a photo of six-year-old Sven meeting his brother for the first time. He'd looked delighted with his brother, and every shot of Sven after that one showed him with a sappy grin on his face. Then the pictures had changed. Walter in and out of hospital, his features slowly changing. Walter
in a wheelchair, watched over by an anxious Sven. She'd paused the longest at a shot of a teenaged Walter, with oxygen tracks under his nose and a huge grin on his puffed-up face. He'd sat in a wheelchair and held a Golden Globe in his hand. Sven had stood behind him, looking down on his brother. Every curve of his body had screamed unbearable sadness through the page, and her heart had ached for him.
She'd jumped when a large hand had closed over hers. Sven's father had gently tugged the album out of her hand and handed her a tissue. Blue eyes the same color as Sven's had searched her face. Markus had looked every bit of his sixty-one years as he'd put the album back on the bookcase with infinite care.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Markus. Walter was beautiful."
"Yes, yes, he was. It hit Sven the hardest of us all I think. He's never been able to let it go. He doted on Walter. I've never seen brothers more devoted to each other."
Blinking away her tears, Sylvia had nodded at the older man.
"I can see that. It comes across when Sven talks about him. Maybe, with this film, he can get some peace?"
"Yes, maybe he will." Markus had sighed deeply. She'd crossed the distance between them and had put a hand on his arm. To her surprise, he'd put his hand on top of hers, squeezing slightly. "I'm glad he's found you, Sylvia. Any fool can see how much you love him."
The pressure on her hand had increased at her gasp of surprise. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes, and it does this old man a world of good to see it. He loves you, too, I can tell, but, knowing him, he won't tell you that, so take my word for it."
Sylvia smiled at Sven's dad now as she entered the kitchen, but the smile froze on her face as her gaze fell on the papers strewn all over the kitchen table.
"Shit, she's gone to the papers, hasn't she?"
The crash of a football rattling the kitchen window made her jump.
"Oh, those boys." Maria wrung her hands in a gesture of mock annoyance, but her voice was kind when she scolded them through the open window.
"Sorry, Mormor, sorry, Maria," came the chorus reply. Everyone in the room smiled. Torsten and Timmy had hit it off like only small boys can, and it was interesting to have two little whirlwinds running about, that's for sure. More than once, the two of them had almost sent Sylvia flying, chasing each other around the house. One day soon, there was bound to be an accident.
"How is he?" Sylvia asked, knowing the answer to that already. Julia had been ruthless. The pictures were full of their so called “PR arrangement.” Julia was quoted as saying that their relationship had been a farce, designed to boost Sven's failing image. The article condemned him as a womanizing liar and included close-ups of the bruises on Julia’s arm, caused by Sven pushing her away on the red carpet. They had also dragged up old pictures of the marks on Sylvia's wrists from their time on the narrow boat. There was even a picture of Walter, taken shortly before he died, his face deformed, and far too many pictures of little Torsten. The press was going to have a field day with this Exposé of Larsson.
"Not good. I could quite happily strangle the woman. To think I once welcomed her into this house, and this is how she repays us." Maria's voice broke on a sob, and Sylvia watched with a small pang of envy as Markus pulled his wife into a tender hug. That they were still so much in love after almost forty years of marriage touched her deeply.
The slam of the front door announced Sven's return. Not acknowledging any of them, he pulled his shirt over his head to wipe the sweat off his brow and ran himself a glass of water. He gulped the liquid down in one go, and then slammed the glass back on the counter. Sven's features contorted into a grim smile as he watched the boys play football. Ignoring Maria's warning shake of her head, Sylvia came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His long frame shuddered as she dropped a kiss against his back. Sven turned around and pulled her into his body with a desperation that filled her eyes with tears. He buried his head in her hair.
"We'll get through this, Sir." She whispered the words, mindful of their audience, and some of that god-awful tension left him.
And that is just what they did. Vera offered a counter statement, refuting the allegations made against Sven, and they flew back to London briefly. With Sylvia by his side, Sven gave a series of interviews that worked wonders at getting the public behind them.
At one of the charity galas Vera had them attend together, Sylvia was separated from Sven in the crush of reporters rushing towards them at the top of the stairs. Her heel slipped off the top step, and she tumbled down with sickening speed. She was dimly aware of an ache in her belly and the distant sound of Sven shouting her name, before darkness claimed her.
When she came to, the unmistakable sounds and smells of hospital were all round her. A steady beeping in the room added to the pounding in her head. Everything hurt, and she moaned softly as she tried to move. She felt her hand held in a firm grip. Sven's beloved face swam into her vision. Sylvia sucked her breath in at what she saw. He looked terrible, his hair a complete mess, his eyes red as though he'd been crying, his dress shirt opened to the waist, covered in blood. What on earth had happened to the tuxedoed man oozing with confidence she had left the house with earlier?
"Oh, thank God, you're awake. I've been going out of my mind with worry. To think I could have lost you both without ever telling you how much you mean to me. Skit, woman, don't ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?"
Sylvia smiled at the grumbled words. Putting one hand on his cheek, she was shocked to discover it was indeed wet. Goodness, he'd been crying over her.
"It takes more than a fall down some stairs to get rid of me, Sir. I'm just surprised I haven't done it before. You know how clumsy I can get."
"Jesus, pet, don't joke about this. I almost had a heart attack seeing you fall, and then you just lay there. It took ages for the ambulance to arrive, and when you started bleeding… Damn it, why didn't you tell me?"
Sylvia's head hurt too much to make any sense of what he was saying.
"I don't understand. Tell you what, Sir?"
Sven’s Swedish curse echoed round the room, and she winced at the sudden desperation on his face.
"I thought … fuck, you really didn't know, did you?"
"Know what? Stop talking in riddles. My head hurts enough as it is."
Shifting to sit next to her, he pulled her into a fierce hug. Her heart started to beat faster, and a tendril of fear danced down her spine. Something was very wrong here.
"When you started bleeding in the ambulance, they asked me whether you could be pregnant." He released her immediately when she pushed against his chest. That tendril of fear flared up, and engulfed her until she found it hard to breathe. Pregnant? But she couldn't be.
Shaking her head, she formed a silent no with her mouth. She remembered the tiredness and sickness she' felt with horrifying clarity. The grim look on his face had bile rising in her throat.
Oh God, please no.
"I said I didn't know, but you could be, so they did a test when you were brought in. It was positive."
"We're pregnant? Really?" A dawning horror replaced her brief flush of elation. She watched him go very still, his only movement a small muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. His intense eyes never left her face.
"You lost a lot of blood. It is unlikely a baby would have survived."
"Unlikely? You mean, you don't know? But we need to find out. I need to know, damn it. Can't they do a scan or something?"
Sylvia could hardly see him through the tears streaming down her face. She remembered the ache she felt in her belly just before she passed out. The ache wasn't there anymore. Surely that was good news, wasn't it?
"Have I lost your baby, Sir? I didn't know. I never would have worn those heels, had I known. Oh, God, I am so sorry."
He held her whilst she cried, and, when her own wrenching sobs finally stopped, she became aware of his silent tears falling on her head.
"We need to find out one way or the other."
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His deep sigh was heartfelt, and he let her go.
"I'll get the doctor, pet."
The wait for the ultrasound was the longest wait of her life ever. Neither she nor Sven spoke. He linked his fingers with hers, but he didn't look at her. The slump in those big shoulders made her blink back fresh tears.
"Okay, now, let's have a wee look and see what's going on here, then."
The cheerful Scottish voice belonged to a stocky sonographer who clicked her tongue in sympathy, when she looked at the note attached to Sylvia's bed.
"My, you poor dear, you will be sore in the morning. That's quite a fall you had there."
Gentle hands moved the sheet and hospital gown out of the way, and Sylvia felt Sven's gaze shift to her still flat abdomen. The pressure on her hand increased.
Sylvia shut her eyes as the cool gel hit her belly and the probe slid across her skin.
"Right, let's see."
The sonographer went silent, and Sylvia held her breath. Why wasn't she saying anything?
Then, she could hear the smile in the woman's voice, and her heart started beating again.
"Open your eyes. Mum, Dad, look at the screen."
Sylvia’s eyes flew open at the sound of Sven’s astonished curse. On the screen in front of them, she could make out the blurry but unmistakable blob that was their baby.
"You can see the wee heart beating along here,” the sonographer said, pointing. “All looks fine, and I'd say you are about seven weeks along. That sound about right to you, Dad?"
Sven's voice was a strangled croak. "Yes."
"Excellent. Looks as though you've got a little fighter on your hands there. Congratulations. I'm so very pleased for you both. If you'll excuse me, I'll just be outside collating your report."
The door clicked behind the sonographer, and they were left on their own. Silence stretched between them, and Sylvia's heart missed a few beats.
"Say something, Sven, please."
The Housewife and the Film Star Page 19
