Surviving His Scars (Angels Halo MC Next Gen 4)

She nodded weakly, folding her hands over her stomach. “Thank you, Dr. Khan.”

We both remained quiet until the door shut behind the doctor, and then she reached out a hand, touching my face. The caress of her fingertips over my jaw calmed my pounding heart, and I leaned into it, greedy for more.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said in a voice that was wobbly with exhaustion. “So let’s not talk right now, okay?”

I gave an affirmative nod and turned my head to kiss her palm.

“Could you…hold me?”

I hated the hesitancy I heard in her tone, and I promised myself I would find a way to correct every doubt she had of me—us. Standing, I kicked off my shoes and took off my holster and tossed everything that was in my pockets onto the nightstand. It only took a matter of seconds, and then I was pulling back the covers and climbing in beside her.

One of her arms went over my stomach, and she pillowed her head on my chest. The perfection of holding her, the sheer peace that made everything inside me sigh in contentment, caused a lump to fill my throat. I was thankful she didn’t want us to speak because I wasn’t sure I could have at that moment.

We lay like that for a long, long while. I rubbed my fingertips up and down her back in the way I knew she loved, and I was rewarded with the feel of goose bumps popping up along her skin. From her breathing, I could tell she was close to nodding off, but I remembered the doctor saying she needed to eat something before going to sleep.

Clearing my throat, I lifted my head to look down at her. “What would you like to eat, precious?”

Her brows scrunched together for a moment in thought. “I can’t remember the last time I ate,” she said, touching her stomach. “You asked me to eat on the plane, but my stomach was tossing at the time. I feel like I’m starving now, though.”

“Mrs. Borsa will make you anything you ask for. Whatever you want, any time of day, she will be happy to serve you.”

Her lips turned up in a slight smirk. “I’m sure she would be all too happy to poison my soup if I wake her up in the middle of the night, Gian. And I do know how to cook.”

“I think Mrs. Borsa is more likely to poison you if you dare step foot in her kitchen with the intent of cooking for yourself than if you wake in the early hours of the morning, my love.” Unable to stop myself, I kissed the tip of her nose. “Tell me what you would like to eat. I need to feed you and those little angels causing you so much trouble before you fall asleep.”

“I’ve been craving sweets lately,” she said with a twist of her lips. “My ass is already showing all the decadency I’ve indulged in this past week.”

I cupped one luscious globe in my hand through her nightgown and squeezed. “Still perfect,” I murmured, kissing her nose again.

“Remember that dessert we had one night in Rome that I couldn’t get enough of?”

“Vividly,” I confirmed, my hand continuing to massage her hip.

“I’ve craved it so much and even tried to recreate it…with disappointing results.” Her bottom lip pouted out for a moment before she gave a small shrug. “I should probably eat something other than sweets. Too much sugar isn’t good for the babies.”

I lay there patiently with her in my arms until she decided what she wanted for dinner. After choosing soup and a sandwich, I got up to call Mrs. Borsa. But after I spoke to her, I texted my second-in-command and told Ugo to oversee the transport of Monroe’s favorite dessert to the villa. He would have to fly to Rome personally and bring it back packed in dry ice, and I told him to get extra, along with the exact recipe so Mrs. Borsa could make it for Monroe whenever she happened to have a craving in the future.

It only took a few extra moments to get that sorted, and when I turned back to face Monroe, she was sitting up in bed, trying to untangle her damp hair with her fingers. Without a word, I walked into the bathroom and found a hairbrush and the bottle of detangling spray I knew she used, before returning to her.

“Thanks,” she said when she saw what I had in my hands, but I didn’t relinquish the items.

Instead, I sat and then lifted her so she was in front of me. After spraying her hair with the sweet, floral-scented detangler, I carefully worked the brush through her thick hair. That she didn’t protest and allowed me to take care of her soothed something deep inside of me that had been scraped raw during the weeks we were apart.

“If we have daughters, you will need to teach me how to braid,” I murmured as I continued to stroke the brush through her hair long after all the tangles were gone.

She glanced at me curiously over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind if we have girls?”

I paused with the brush halfway through her hair. “I would feel like the luckiest man alive if we have nothing but girls.”

Her eyes brightened, and then she released a small laugh. “Mila and Lyric are both hoping for boys. It would be hilarious if they had twin girls.”

Placing the brush on the nightstand, I turned Monroe to face me and cupped her face. “I would like girls, but all I really want is for you and the babies to be safe and healthy. I will love them, regardless.”

Her chin began to tremble. “Gian…”

“Shh,” I murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t argue with me right now, precious. Your food will be here soon, and I don’t want to upset your stomach.”

Picking her up, I positioned her back against the pillows once more and then tucked the covers in around her. Getting out of bed, I grabbed the television remote where it lay on the entertainment center and returned to sit beside her. After a little channel-surfing, I found one of her favorite sitcoms and stretched out to get comfortable.