Forever Mine (Tormentor Mine 4)

Did someone slice through his eye with a knife, and if so, how did his eye survive?

Unless… is that an artificial eye?

“Thank you. It’s good to see you too—and thank you for your hospitality,” I say, suppressing my curiosity. It wouldn’t do to gawk at our ruthless host.

He gives me a cool nod as I take my seat next to Nora, and Peter sits opposite me, next to Yulia.

“Thank you for the paper towel,” I tell Yulia, and she nods noncommittally before looking away. Like her husband, she must still be upset with me over what happened in Cyprus. In hindsight, I feel terrible that I misled her about my relationship with Peter in order to escape. I shouldn’t have involved her in my last-ditch effort to avoid falling in love with my tormentor.

I have to get her alone tonight, so I can properly apologize.

“How are you feeling?” Nora asks softly, leaning in, and I smile at her, the worst of my embarrassment fading at the look of concern on her face.

“Much better now, thank you.”

“I had pretty bad morning sickness with Lizzie,” she confides with a rueful smile. “I was throwing up everywhere, to the point that Julian had taken to carrying one of those airplane vomit bags with us wherever we went.”

“I think I may need to do that,” I say, and she laughs as Peter watches us with an unreadable expression.

Does he disapprove of my budding friendship with Esguerra’s wife? If so, why?

As I ponder that, Ana walks in, wheeling in a cart with bowls of soup.

“I had a special, lighter broth prepared for you,” Nora says as Ana puts a clear soup in front of me, rather than the creamy versions I see in front of everyone else. “I figured it might be easier on your stomach. Let me know if you’d rather have the mushroom cream. Rich food was the biggest trigger for me when I was in my first trimester, so I figured it might be for you as well.”

“This is perfect, thank you,” I say, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I haven’t noticed a correlation with different foods for me yet, but I am craving something lighter, after… you know.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” She grins. “And let me know if any of the smells at the table bother you. Ana will take away whatever it is. Smells was another big thing for me with Lizzie.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” I dip my spoon into the soup and bring it to my lips, tasting it cautiously. To my relief, it’s as light as Nora promised, with a mushroomy undertone and a hint of miso. “Is your daughter napping?” I ask, swallowing the soup.

“She was when I left her upstairs with Rosa a few minutes ago,” Nora says. Sighing, she glances at the dining room entrance. “Is it wrong that I already miss her?”

I smile. “Not at all. She seems like a very sweet baby.”

Nora rolls her eyes. “I wish. She’s a little terror, is what she is. Don’t let that cute exterior fool you. She’s her father’s daughter all the way.”

Esguerra chooses that moment to look over at us. “What’s that, my pet?”

“Nothing.” Nora gives him a beatific smile. “Just telling Sara what a perfect angel our daughter is.”

He lifts his eyebrows in obvious skepticism, and Nora gives him an exaggeratedly innocent look, rapidly batting her long lashes. His lids lower, his mouth taking on a sensual curve, and a look passes between them, one so intimate and heated that my insides warm.

Feeling like a pervert, I look away—only to meet my husband’s storm-colored gaze across the table.

“You’re not eating,” he quietly observes, and I realize it’s not my potential friendship with Nora that worries him.

It’s me.

He’s watching me like I might throw up—or freak out—at any second.

My mood darkens. So much for reassuring him with sex earlier today.

Dipping my spoon into the soup, I focus on finishing the entire bowl, so I can put his mind at ease on that score, at least. He watches me for a few seconds, then resumes eating his own soup, apparently reassured that I’m not about to starve myself.

Everyone makes quick work of the soup; then the men get into a discussion about some security measures on the compound. I’m only half-listening because Nora is talking my ear off about Chicago clubs and restaurants.

Apparently, we’ve been to a lot of the same places over the years.

For the second course, Ana brings out a green salad and a delicious-smelling seafood paella. Nora offers to give me plain rice and chicken, but I decline, thanking her for the consideration.

My stomach is behaving, and I really want that paella.

As the meal proceeds, I notice an awkward pattern at the table. Though Nora and Yulia are sitting directly across from one another, they’re neither looking at nor talking to each other. In fact, other than thanking Ana and praising her cooking at one point, Yulia has either spoken only to her husband or stayed silent.