Lifting my hand, I gently touched the creased between his brow, smoothing it out as I smiled sadly and uttered quietly, “You want to knock me up but you can’t even accept my kisses without looking for a motive.”

I saw it. The very moment he realized I had a point. Ettore’s expression turned somber. “I guess you could say I have trust issues.”

He said it so seriously with the slightest touch of rancor that, after a moment of tense silence, a smile tugged at my lips. My response was humble. “Same.”

The reluctant smile that spread across his face was beautiful. It called to my own and, just like that, the air around us changed. With the mood lightened, I took the opportunity to cover his hand with my own and squeeze. “I want to come home.”

He fingers tightened around mine. He ran his thumb across my knuckles and the action was a harsh contrast to the hard word he responded with. “No.”

Looking at his handsome face, at those lips that kissed me stupid, it was easy to forget that this man was dangerous. I knew better than to push. I had to pick my battles.

My face fell and I let out a hushed, “When can I?”

His, “When you’ve done your time,” was cold and detached. I tried not to make it obvious how much it hurt as I attempted to pull away from him, but a swift yank of my arm had me up and draped across his lap and then, he had my face in his hands. He forced me to look at him. His eyes softened some when he said, “You just keep behaving yourself. Keep being my good girl, okay?”

I couldn’t hide my sadness when I nodded lightly. He kissed me warmly and, with little resistance, I fell into him.

When he left later that night, I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out.

* * *

Days passed. I mourned his leaving, but soon, I fell back into my routine. I did as he asked and played the role of good girl during the day, while at night, I misbehaved in my bed, calling out his name in the hopes it would bring him back to me.