Jenna Carver stood in the bathroom, her eyes glued to the small white stick in her hand. The plus sign was dark pink and very clear. There was no room for doubt.

She was pregnant.

She wasn’t surprised; she’d been stuffing positive pregnancy tests under the trash in the bathroom for the last two weeks.

But the timing wasn’t great. They were getting ready to leave for Rome where they would celebrate Christmas with Nico and Angel, Christophe and Charlotte. Luca and Isabel would make an appearance, and maybe even Leo and Diana.

The conditions were hardly ideal for life-altering news.

She drew in a deep breath and turned away from the mirror to lean against the marble counter. She didn’t want to look at her reflection. Didn’t want to see her face, more angular since she’d been having morning sickness, or the dark circles under her eyes, courtesy of more than one sleepless night.

Most of all, she didn’t want to wonder how much longer she could hide her pregnancy from Farrell.

They’d been apart when she’d been pregnant with Lily in New York. He’d missed the fatigue and nausea, the strange food aversions and the tenderness of her breasts.

According to her estimation, she was nearly three months along. He wouldn’t recognize the symptoms right away, but she wouldn’t be able to hide it forever.

“Mummy!” Lily’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by the rattle of the doorknob. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll be right there, love,” Jenna called.

“But what are you doing?” Lily asked.

She was six years old. Patience wasn’t her forte.

Jenna bent down and placed the pregnancy test under an assortment of tissue and cotton balls in the trash. Theresa would empty it while they were gone, and by the time they returned from the Christmas holiday, Farrell would know.

He would have to know.

The doorknob had begun a fresh round of rattling when she lifted her toiletry bag off the counter and opened the door.

“My goodness!” She looked down at the brown-haired angel that was her daughter. “Someone needs to practice their patience.”

“Daddy says patience is for wankers,” Lily said, blinking up at her with wide green eyes.

“Daddy shouldn’t be saying that word in front of you,” Jenna said, trying to keep her expression stern. “And you definitely shouldn’t be saying it.”

Lily looked chastised. “I forgot I wasn’t supposed to say it in front of you.”

Jenna shook her head, stifling a laugh. “You’re not supposed to say it at all.”

“Daddy says the heli is ready.”

“Clearly the art of deflection is another one of the things you’re learning from your father,” Jenna said, guiding Lily into the hall. “Come on, my love. Let’s get your rucksack.”

Farrell had already taken Jenna’s suitcase downstairs, along with the smaller suitcase Jenna had packed for Lily. All that was left was Jenna’s toiletry bag and the rucksack filled with Lily’s books, crayons, drawing pad, and of course, Bunny, the tattered stuffed animal that had been Lily’s favorite since their days in New York.

She followed Lily into her bedroom, marveling again at the perfection of it, the luxury Farrell showered on Lily — on both of them — even when Jenna told him it would spoil their daughter rotten.

It wasn’t an effective argument to use with Farrell Black. It was his goal in life to spoil them rotten — when he wasn’t beating everyone else senseless with his fists or his intellect.

“Got it,” Lily said, looping the rucksack around her small shoulders.

“All right,” Jenna said. “Let’s go before your father loses his patience, since as we all know, patience is for wankers.”

Lily covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. “Mummy!”

They started down the hallway, oddly quiet with Anthony, Carmen, and the rest of the daily staff gone for the holidays.

When they reached the top of the staircase, Farrell came into view, standing near the door and looking patient in spite of his aforementioned stance on the subject. They locked eyes, a slow smile appearing on his lips as he watched her descend the stairs.

He always looked at her like that — like he hadn’t seen her for ages — and she was immediately transported back to the moment after her father’s funeral when he’d found her on her mother’s back porch.

They hadn’t seen each other in five years, and in spite of her concerns about his lifestyle, she’d been his all over again the second their eyes met.

She’d always been his.

She and Lily stepped off the stairs and Farrell took the toiletry bag from her hands.

He looked down at her, his gray eyes like molten steel. “Ready, my love?”

She smiled up at him. “I’m ready.”

His eyes turned a shade darker, the word moving between them, its meaning expanding into memories of the nights they’d spent tangled in each other’s bodies.

She was always ready for him and he knew it.

She stood on her tiptoes to slide her hands around his neck and was immediately sheltered by the massive wall of his body, his muscled arms slipping around her waist.

He was a giant of a man, and she never stopped being thrilled by the raw power that emanated from every pore.

Other people saw danger when they looked at him. She could see it in the way they shrank from him, the way they averted their eyes from the scar that ran down the left side of his face.

She didn’t know what it said about her that his violent energy only excited her.

It was true that she knew him, that she knew he would protect her and Lily with his life. But even when she’d first met him at the seedy bar outside London, she’d wanted nothing more than to mold herself to him, to truly know the man who looked at everyone in the world like they were his enemy.

Everyone but her.

“Mummy, Daddy,” Lily said. “We’re going to miss Christmas!”

Farrell’s laugh vibrated through Jenna’s body as he dropped a kiss on her lips. It was probably supposed be G-rated for Lily’s benefit, but even here — even now — she was instantly wet for him, her body primed to feel his lips travel over her skin.

“I would never let you miss Christmas, love.” He scooped her into his arms. “But you’re right: the heli’s waiting.”

Now that Jenna was in the foyer, she could hear the idle of its engine, the slow whomp of its blades cutting the air.

“And Stella, too!” Lily said.

“Well, we mustn’t keep Stella waiting,” Farrell said, leading them out the door.

His pretend horror was for Lily’s benefit. Stella, Nico and Angel’s daughter, had been gifted with Nico’s reserve, Angel’s steely calm. She was only five years old, but Jenna could already see her sitting on the Syndicate’s throne someday, calmly blinking her green eyes as she made complicated decisions.

Lily, on the other hand, was cursed and blessed with Farrell’s fiery temper, Jenna’s passion. Both would serve her well if they were tempered with a healthy dose of discipline. Jenna was working on it, but her success had yet to be determined.

They crossed the lawn toward the waiting helicopter, Farrell holding Lily in one arm while he held Jenna’s hand. They were a perfect party of three, Farrell’s two arms easily sheltering them both.

How would another baby change things between them? Would she be able to give Lily all the attention she deserved while also nurturing a second child? Would Farrell welcome the news?

She was still pondering the questions as they climbed into the helicopter.

Leo, Farrell’s right-hand man, was in the pilot’s chair.

Farrell got Jenna and Lily buckled in, then climbed into the copilot’s seat. A couple minutes later, they were rising into the air, Lily squealing as they banked over the property.

The ground disappeared beneath them, followed by the house and barn, the rolling Tuscan hills passing in a blur of gold and brown.

Jenna turned her eyes to Farrell. His big hands worked the controls of the helicopter, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun.

She knew he adored her and Lily — knew he would give his life for them — but their bohemian lifestyle was a long way from domestic.

They were still unmarried, still had wild sex. They showered their only child with attention and love, let her run barefoot after the goats in Tuscany, thought nothing of allowing her to miss school for impromptu trips, thought nothing, for that matter, of leaving her with Mrs. Pendleton or Carmen while the two of them jetted off for the weekend to Bali or Fiji where they made love on the beach at all hours, exploring each other’s bodies like they didn’t already know every inch.

Farrell’s lifestyle — and his connection to organized crime — had terrified Jenna when she’d left for New York, pregnant with Lily and unsure what it would mean to raise a child with a man who would never be home for dinner at six, who would never carry a briefcase and report to an office every day.

When they’d finally reunited, she’d been surprised to find that she thrived on the lifestyle that had once frightened her. She liked the danger of it, the uncertainty, and while she shielded Lily from those aspects of Farrell’s work, there was no sign their daughter was doing anything but thriving under the circumstances.

A baby would change everything, and while Jenna wouldn’t mind sacrificing her freedom, she would mind the compromises Farrell might have to make.

She’d never expected him to be anyone but who he was, had never demanded or expected marriage.

Had never needed it.

So why did it suddenly seem important that he’d never asked?

Was she more staid than she wanted to admit, secretly craving that last vestige of stability called marriage? Or was it because deep down, she feared Farrell might not be as happy in their life as she was?

It was no secret that he’d made compromises. He was still dangerous, now running the Syndicate instead of being a cog in the wheel, but he came home whenever possible, anxious not to miss too much of Lily’s life when he’d already missed the first five years.

And he’d been gone a lot more lately — bringing the Syndicate’s territories back under control, setting up a new organizational structure now that he was running the Syndicate with Nico, Christophe, and Luca.

He’d been busy, maybe even a little distracted. Was the domestic side of their life together finally boring him? Would another baby make him feel truly imprisoned?

And what about her? Did she want to go back to nappies and bottles? To teething and sleepless nights? Would she become one of those hollow-eyed, exhausted mums she sometimes saw at the park pushing an infant in a carriage?

Farrell turned his head and smiled, as if sensing her eyes on him. She smiled back and took a deep breath as she returned her eyes to the window, Florence coming into view below them.

They would figure it out. It didn’t matter that they weren’t officially married. She didn’t need a piece of paper to know they were meant to be together.

She would find a way to tell him over the holiday. There would be no business, no sudden trips, no distractions.

They would figure it out.