by Amy Gamet
He looked around at the men at the table. They were warriors, highly trained to do anything necessary to achieve their goal. But this was different. They were reluctant, and like a dog trainer wielding a choke collar, he needed to pull them along with a firm hand. “It’s time to take the child.”
18
Grace didn't know how much more of this she could stand. Nico had been screaming for the better part of the last three hours, and her head ached from the incessant noise while her heart ached for her sweet little son.
Clearly something was wrong and she just couldn't figure out what it was, couldn’t comfort him or make it all better. In that moment, she missed her mother so deeply her eyes burned with frustration.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said loudly enough to be heard over her son’s cries. "Everything is all right." Except she didn't believe that. She was a horrible mother who couldn't even comfort her own son.
She tried nursing him twice, and each time he'd settled for a bit before returning to his wailing, unabated. "I don't think babies are supposed to cry like this. Tell me what I'm doing wrong?" She didn't know who she was asking and she certainly didn't expect to get a response.
"He's just fussy," said Matteo behind her.
She hadn't heard him come in the bedroom. She turned around. "This isn’t fussy. This is irate."
He held out his hands to her. "Let me take a turn."
"Have you ever held a baby before?"
"Of course I have. That one time you handed him to me for a minute when I first got here.”
It was hard to believe that was only a week ago. He’d moved into her life so smoothly it seemed as though he’d been here forever. She didn’t even mind sharing her space with him, since he slept on the floor and seemed to have a sixth sense about when she needed to be alone.
But he’d never stepped in and helped with the baby until now. She narrowed her eyes.
"How hard can it be?" he asked.
As if to show him, she held out the screaming infant. Matteo scooped him up like it was something he did every day. He looked so comfortable, she instantly knew he was far better with children than she was.
She crossed her arms over her chest. Nothing about parenthood was easy for her. She second-guessed herself every time her interactions with her son didn't go as picture-perfect as she planned. Her eyes moved down Matteo's chest to Nico's red, teary face.
At least the baby hadn't stopped crying. That would've added insult to injury.
"Why don't you go take a break,” he said. “Go for a walk or something. Nico and I are fine."
"You don't look fine. He’s screaming just as much for you as he was for me."
Matteo smiled. "That's right. You don't have to do this by yourself, you know. I can help, too."
His words were like a well-placed attack on the dam that held her emotions in check, and she nearly broke down from his display of kindness. She did have to do everything by herself. For while Matteo was here for the time being, he was not going to be a permanent fixture in her life or the baby’s, and she refused to allow the staff to do more for her child than they already were.
The idea of closing the bathroom door and taking a hot bath by herself for an hour was heavenly. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Of course not. I'm a Navy SEAL, remember? I'm not afraid of a little baby."
She nodded, grateful for his willingness to help her and secretly hoping he wouldn’t be any better at handling the baby than she was.
Don’t be so petty, Grace.
"Thank you,” she said sincerely.
She made her way into the bathroom, closed the door and locked it, pressing her back firmly against it with a sigh. She turned the water on, the sound instantly covering up the baby's cries in the distance. She felt herself relax for the first time in hours.
No, days.
She hastily stripped the clothes from her body, desperate to immerse herself in the steaming-hot water. She loved baths. Before she’d had Nico, she took a bath nearly every day, enjoying the warm water lapping at her skin and the soothing sound of the tub filling. But now with the baby it was difficult to get away for any length of time, and the only thing worse than not getting a bath at all was having one be interrupted.
That wasn't going to happen today. Matteo would take care of the baby for as long as she needed him to. She sighed contentedly. This must be what it was like for couples who really were married with a baby. Taking turns with everything. Sharing the joys and stresses of parenthood. What a relief that would be.
She thought of Mason and what a great father she had thought he would be. An excellent judge of character, she was not. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She wouldn't think about him tonight, wouldn't allow these precious moments of time to herself to be polluted by that man.
Reaching for the bubble bath—one of her favorite scents—she added a generous dose to the running water and inhaled deeply. She needed this more than she wanted to admit.
When did everything become so stressful, so hard? These politics were forcing her life into some sort of misshapen path, and she resented their intrusion even as she knew it was necessary. She had a responsibility to her countrymen to see them through this election and into the safe, sane hands of her father.
The irony that the man who could never be a good father to her was an excellent father to her country was not lost on her. He was wise and fair and dedicated where politics were concerned, but judgmental, distant, and unsympathetic in real life.
She sank back into the bubbles, her breathing deep and regulated now that she was alone. Maybe she should tell her father how she felt, how much she missed him.
Like it would do any good.
It hadn’t always been like this between them. Back when her mother was alive, she and her father had worked hard to share the best sides of themselves with each other, but without her mother’s guidance keeping them together, everything had gone downhill.
The tub was nearly full, and she knew when she turned off the water she would be able to hear her baby’s cries once again. Reluctantly, she turned off the water with her toes and waited for the screaming to reach her ears.
Nothing.
She frowned. Maybe Matteo had taken Nico into another room to give her some peace and quiet. Yes, that must be it. She let herself soak to her heart's content, so when she stepped out of the bathroom nearly an hour later, she was surprised and touched to see him and Nico cuddled on the bed together, sleeping.
They could have passed for father and son. Matteo's arms were around Nico, the two seemingly frozen in a snuggle. She quietly slipped in beside them, closed her eyes, and fell instantly asleep.
19
It’s amazing what a man can get used to.
Matteo had been sharing a room with Grace for a solid week now and had fallen into a routine that left his body aching for her every night.
He would go to bed before her, lying in the darkness and waiting for her to come in with the baby. She would sit in the chair on the other side of the room in varying degrees of undress, nursing the baby while he watched.
His original suspicion that she knew he was watching was now a virtual certainty. At least once every night, she would meet his stare in the mirror.
It was all he could do not to confront her, not to stroke himself as he watched her, not to step out of the shadows and reveal himself to her, all wanting and lust. His desire was getting more intense, more complex the better he knew her, and the strength of it forced him to find some release in early morning showers.
His dreams had taken on a vivid, erotic quality that always involved Grace and her glorious milky breasts. He was becoming obsessed, even as they maintained basic pleasantries during the day. But he’d made a promise not to pursue her, and if one of them was going to cross the line, it had to be her first.
Then there was the baby. What had started out as Matteo wanting to give Grace a reprieve from her screaming child had turned into something he
truly enjoyed—spending time with Nico. He never would have thought a baby could be so full of personality, or that the warmth of the baby’s sweet little body would feel so good against his chest.
There was a closeness that came from sharing sleeping space with Grace and the baby, from waking up to Nico’s little whimpers and hearing him drinking his mother’s milk. It was a type of intimacy Matteo had never experienced with a woman, and this time he couldn’t run away from it.
He awoke to insistent knocking on the bedroom door.
His training had him on his feet, instantly on high alert. He went to the door. “Who is it?”
“Talia.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Grace.
“Nothing, honey. Go back to sleep.” He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. The look on Talia’s face clearly spoke of trouble. “What is it?”
“A man broke into Nico’s room, but we caught him.”
Matteo was used to danger, not unaccustomed to a steady threat. But this was different. This was his son they were talking about.
Grace’s son. Not yours.
The muscles of his arms flexed, ready to battle and defend. “Take me to him.”
The general shook his head. “He’s dead. He killed himself. My men brought him in alive, but they missed the suicide capsule when they patted him down.”
“Thank God the baby was with us.”
“Agreed. The intruder killed one of our men on the ground and made it to the room undetected. It was the guard in Nico’s room who got him.”
Matteo rubbed his forehead. His heart was racing. Someone had gotten inside with trained guards posted at every turn. Not just anyone could do that.
HERO Force could.
“The suicide capsule is a hallmark of Ten Komanda,” said Talia. “If they are after Nico…”
The shadow team.
Fuck.
“I want twice as many men on Nico’s room,” said Matteo. “The same on ours. If they came for him once, they’ll be back.”
Talia nodded. “There’s something else. I went and spoke with President Vasile before coming to you. He is not well. He tells me you are aware of his… condition?”
“Yes.”
“He’d like to speak with you.”
Matteo made his way down the hall to Vasile’s room, quietly knocking.
“Come in.”
A single light was on beside the bed. Vasile looked older and sicker than Matteo had ever seen him.
“Talia told you about Ten Komanda?”
“He did.”
“They are like your HERO Force. Covert operations. The difference as I understand it is that your organization operates with some sort of moral compass. Ten Komanda does not. I’ve known for some time they are working for Victor Trane. The fact that they are now after my grandson…”
Vasile shook his head slowly. “They will do anything. I am concerned for my daughter’s safety, too. Her and the baby. I need you to keep them safe.”
“I will. To the best of my ability.”
“Even if I’m no longer here. I need your word you will protect Grace until she is completely safe from harm.”
“I will.”
Vasile nodded. “I have a speaking engagement a few hours away tomorrow evening. I’m not well enough to make it. I want you to take Grace there in my stead.”
“Grace?”
“You don’t know.” Vasile smiled. “She is a charismatic speaker with a highly political mind. We share similar political views and at one time she considered running for public office, though it infuriated her to think how alike we are. I believe she’ll do it, if not for me then for the people.”
“We’ll be more vulnerable on the road than we would be here at home.”
“It’s only a few hours away and it is necessary to the campaign. This is a mountain I’m willing to die on, Matteo.”
“But is Grace?”
“I believe so, yes. But she can tell you her own mind.”
He nodded. “I’d feel better if the baby stayed here. If we have any trouble, he would make everything more difficult.”
“Fine. I will talk to her.”
Matteo shook his head. “No. Let me do it.”
It was Vasile’s turn to focus the questioning stare on Matteo.
“She’ll listen to me.”
20
Matteo stared at the ceiling long after returning to bed. The room was dark, and he was just able to make out his surroundings in the dim light coming from the bathroom. He was in Grace's bed, Nico at his side, with Grace curled up on the other side of the baby.
He must’ve fallen asleep, because when he woke, the baby was clearly looking for his next meal. He put his arms under the infant and pushed him closer to his mother. "Grace?"
"Mmm.”
"I think the baby is hungry." She reached out and pulled him close, the sound of the baby nursing filling the quiet room. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. He would do anything to keep this woman and child safe.
This was how it would be one day, when he really got married and had a child of his own. He frowned. He didn’t want some other woman, some other child.
He wanted the ones he already had.
Without thinking, he laid his arm across her pillow and touched her hair.
Her eyes opened and locked with his in the darkness. He ran his nails along her scalp. Her hair was soft and he longed to thread his fingers through it as he kissed her. She moaned softly so he knew it felt good to her, the quiet hum of satisfaction.
“I want to lie next to you,” he said.
"Nico needs a diaper."
"I've got it."
He sat up, grabbed a clean diaper and wipes, and settled back on the bed to change the now sleeping baby. Then he scooped up the child, cradled him against his chest, and gently settled him in the makeshift bed on the floor before returning to Grace.
She lifted up the sheets for him to join her. For all the times he’d been in bed with a woman, this one felt the most right.
He pulled her into his arms. He could tell the moment she felt his erection, but she only paused for a moment before pressing her body against his from head to toe. She was warm from sleep, the scent of her heavy on her skin.
He kissed her, gently at first, her lips soft and slightly open beneath his. This was more than just lust, more than the tightening of the tension that had been humming between them since he met her.
His arms wrapped around her waist, one hand ending up on the bare skin of her back where the hem of her nightgown had been pulled up to feed the baby. It felt right that his hands should be on her nakedness, right that they’d fitted themselves against each other like the most comfortable of lovers.
Her hands snaked up his chest and around his neck, holding him to her. Her fingers slipped into the short hair at his nape and he deepened their kiss, a steady pulse beating in his groin as her squeezed her tightly against him.
He allowed himself the fantasy, this woman, this child, this night. His concern for her safety only magnified his feelings. His hand moved up her rib cage and cupped the softness of her breast, gently squeezing her nipple.
A small drop of liquid appeared beneath his fingers, a drop of warm milk, and he growled with the effort it took to keep from bending his head and tasting her with his hungry mouth.
She arched her back as a small sound of pleasure escaped her lips.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He lifted her nightgown up to her chin, exposing the glorious breasts he’d seen but never touched. Gently he took a bud between his thumb and forefinger and lightly squeezed.
She sucked in air.
This time when a drop of milk appeared, he licked it like a cat licking cream. It was sweet on his tongue and he swore softly at this new sexual dimension. He wanted to make love to her, to hear the sounds his wife made when he thrust himself inside her.
His eyes popped open.
The annulment he planned to receive would not be forthcoming if their relationship was consummated. If he slept with her, they’d really be married.
Forever.
At least in the eyes of the Church.
And his mother.
And hell, maybe himself.
Grace’s legs spread open beneath him and his hardened cock pressed against her underwear. He could feel her damp heat through the fabric of his boxers, feel how ready she was to make love to him.
You won’t be able to get an annulment.
It was everything he’d been taught since he was a little boy, and while some of the tenets of his religion had fallen by the wayside as he grew up and got older, the sanctity of marriage was not one of them.
He teetered on the edge of decision, but when he would’ve pulled back, Grace sucked on his bottom lip, filling him with need. The force of it controlled him, commanded he comply, and he pushed her against the bed, his hips straining against her most intimate places.
He could have been a teenager, grinding fully clothed against a woman for the first time. He was so turned on and excited, every muscle at the ready, knowing he was gone. She lifted her mouth from his, exposing her neck. He sucked lightly on her skin, loving the taste of her and the musky scent of her body.
He had to have her. He slipped his hands into her panties, grabbing her ass cheeks and squeezing her tightly against his ready erection. Then her hands were between them, frantically working the buckle of his jeans.
He’d never been so turned on, so desperate to make love to a woman as this. But the consequences of their union clamored in his brain, forcing him to face what he was about to do. He had to stop before he was inside her, all reason and justification lost to pleasure.
With the very last shred of willpower he possessed, he moved over her and stripped her of her panties, then his hands were doing what he longed to do with the rest of his body, exploring her recesses and smooth flesh, wet from wanting him as much as he wanted her. He tasted her with his tongue and her hips came off the bed.
