Chapter 4

The kiss deepened before Marceline could think.

Adrian’s hands slid from her face to her waist, pulling her against him with a hunger that felt almost angry.

She tasted mint on his breath and something darker underneath...maybe whiskey..but she brushed it off before she could stop herself.

After four years of silence and cold shoulders collapsed in that single moment.

When he lifted her onto the edge of his new desk she did not resist seeing the papers scattered and a pen rolled to the floor.

Neither of them reached for it.

He undressed her slowly at first, then faster, as if he had been waiting years for permission he never asked for.

Marceline’s fingers trembled against the buttons of his shirt. For the first time she allowed herself to look...really look...at the body she had only glimpsed in pieces.

He has dark ink covered his chest and shoulders, patterns that continued lower across his abs and hips.

She had seen flashes of those tattoos when she cleaned his gunshot wounds or when he walked out of the shower with a towel around his waist.

Back then she had always turned away because his mouth was never far behind with some cutting remark.

Tonight there were no remarks. Only the heat of his skin and the steady pressure of his hands.

When he turned her gently she saw the birthmarks scattered across his back, small and uneven, the kind no one else in the house had ever mentioned.

She traced one with her fingertip, making him shiver.

Then he was above her again, green eyes so vivid they looked almost unreal in the low office light.

His lips were softer than she expected, pink against the sharp lines of his face. Every time he kissed her she tasted mint and felt her body tighten in answer.

He whispered against her ear while he moved inside her...quiet promises that he would try to be kinder, that the years of distance had been a mistake, that she deserved better than the cold treatment he had given.

Marceline clung to those words the same way she clung to his shoulders. Her heart, locked shut for so long, cracked open with every thrust.

She had spent four years telling herself she felt nothing.

Tonight her body proved her a liar.

When it was over they stayed pressed together for a long minute, breathing hard.

Adrian eventually pulled back and reached for the watch she had brought in the first place.

She didn't feel any regrets about the moment because he was her husband. And beyond his previous cold attitude, she learnt to like him.

He fastened the watch around his wrist without looking away from her.

A faint flush still colored her cheeks.

He noticed and almost smiled then guided her toward the small private bathroom attached to the office.

He turned on the shower himself, adjusted the temperature, and waited while she stepped under the water.

He did not join her, but he stayed close enough to hand her a towel when she finished. Afterward he made tea from the small tray near the window and placed the cup in her hands.

Marceline sat on the edge of the leather couch and stared at him.

The same man who had shot her arm and crippled her on their wedding day.

The same man who had ignored her for four years. The same man who had let his family call her barren without ever defending her. She could not make the two versions fit together.

He seemed to read the hesitation on her face. He sat across from her, elbows on his knees.

“You have been a good wife,” he said quietly. “Better than I deserved. I will stop being hard on you. Now that I am the Don, no one will harm you. I will make sure of it.”

She wanted to believe him. The tea warmed her palms. His voice sounded sincere. For the first time in years she let herself hope that maybe the marriage was worth keeping.

~~~~

Months passed.

Marceline’s belly grew round and heavy.

She moved slower, slept less, and woke each morning with one hand resting on the curve of her stomach.

Adrian was still gone more than he was home...he had more business trips that stretched across weeks, but he sent short messages and, once, a delivery of white flowers that filled the entrance hall.

She read every message twice.

She pressed the petals between the pages of an old notebook. Somewhere between the late-night tea in his office and the first flutter of movement inside her, she had fallen completely in love with him.

On the day he was scheduled to return she organized a welcome gathering.

The Cross family, once so open with their mockery, now treated her with careful politeness.

Two of the aunts helped her down the staircase because the last steps had become difficult.

She wore a soft blue dress that draped over her belly and left her hair loose around her shoulders.

When the front doors opened and Adrian stepped inside, she did not wait.

She walked toward him as fast as her body allowed, with her face bright with a smile she could not contain.

He did not return it...and that made her heart sink.

He greeted her the way he might greet a distant cousin...so polite and brief way...infact he was already looking past her shoulder toward the men who had arrived with him.

His great-aunt murmured that he should smile for his wife.

Adrian only shrugged and moved into the main sitting room.

Marceline told herself, “ it is simply fatigue or a difficult flight or maybe a hard negotiation.“

She followed him into the room and took a seat near the edge of the group.

One of the women who traveled with his business circle sat too close to him, her knee almost brushing his.

Marceline learned her name was Victoria when one of the men across the table called out, “Victoria, pass that champagne, will you?”

Next Victoria laughed at something Adrian said, the sound light and practiced.

Then she turned toward Marceline with a bright smile.

It was the kind of smile everyone else in the room seemed to accept as genuine.

Marceline knew that smile. She had seen versions of it on the faces of girls in the countryside who whispered behind her back, and later on the faces of Cross relatives who asked about heirs while staring at her stomach.

The corners of Victoria’s mouth lifted just a fraction too high. Her eyes stayed cool.

“Could you fetch some water?” Victoria asked, voice sweet and clear. “The flight left us all thirsty. Be a dear.”

Marceline blinked several times. The request hung in the air. She turned her head toward Adrian, waiting.

“Adrian,” she said quietly, almost under her breath. “Did you hear her?”

He did not look up. He reached for a folder on the table and flipped it open, already reading.

An older aunt..Vivian...shifted forward in her chair, frowning. “Victoria, that is not appropriate. Marceline is...”

“She is perfectly capable,” Victoria interrupted with another soft laugh. “Aren’t you, Marceline? You’ve managed the house all this time. A glass of water should be simple.”

Aunt Vivian tried again. “Adrian, please. She is carrying your child. She should not be running errands.”

Adrian’s gaze lifted just enough to silence her. Just one look and the aunt closed her mouth and settled back against the cushions.

Marceline’s fingers curled against the fabric of her dress. “Say something. Tell her no. Tell her I am your wife.“ She thought.

“Adrian,” she tried once more, louder this time. “I don’t mind helping, but...”

“The water, Marceline,” Victoria said, still smiling. “Before the ice melts.”

Adrian turned a page in the folder. “Do as she asked.”

The words landed flat. Marceline swallowed once, hard, and felt the sting travel down her throat. Pride had no place here. Especially not with a belly this heavy and a house full of people who still watched her like she might fail at any moment.

She stood carefully, one hand braced on the arm of the chair for balance. “Of course,” she said, voice steady only because she forced it to be. “I’ll get the water.”

The room felt warmer than it had a minute ago. But she did not dare drop a tear.

Behind her she heard Victoria’s light voice again.

“See? No trouble at all.”

In the kitchen the glass nearly slipped twice before she managed to fill it. Cold water ran over her knuckles.

She stared at the clear surface and blinked until the wetness in her eyes retreated.

“He promised. That night in the office he said he would protect me. He said no one would harm me. Why is he letting her speak to me like this?“

She felt silly for a second, to believe a man who never spared her for a second would actually fall for her.

Halfway back down the hallway the voices from the sitting area drifted out clearly, no longer filtered by distance or politeness.

Victoria laughed again. “Why did you even get the cripple pregnant? That arm of hers is still half-useless. It’s almost funny.”

Adrian said nothing to defend her.

A male colleague...Martin spoke next. “When does the marriage contract end? She’s dragging the family image down. Everyone can see it. We all know only an heir is needed..not her. The Don needs a woman who matches his high standards. .”

Adrian’s voice came low and nonchalant.

“I was drunk that night. Nothing more. I cannot accept a country bumpkin as the mother of a Cross heir. I never could.”

The glass slipped from Marceline’s fingers and shattered on the marble floor.

Water spread in a dark pool around her shoes making every head in the sitting area to turn.

Adrian’s green eyes found hers across the distance. He did not stand. He did not follow when she turned and walked away as fast as her heavy body would allow.

Behind her his voice sounded almost bored.

“It’s the truth. Wait, you didn't exactly think I will keep you after the baby is born right?”