Damian dropped off a few pizzas with the guards, then continued into the house. He’d gotten a large sausage and onion — Aria’s favorite — and two dozen wings, something she confessed to having a craving for more than once in the weeks since the shooting.

“Honey, I’m home,” he joked as he shut the door behind him.

“In the kitchen, dear,” she sang back in a singsongy voice.

He made his way down the hall, noticing that she’d already started a fire in the study, and stepped into the kitchen. She was standing at the island with a beer in her hand.

He bent to kiss her, then grinned. “Are we sick of us yet?”

“Psh. Never.”

He hoped she was telling the truth. Hoped she loved every second of their time together as much as he did. Hoped he would always be able to give her the kind of happiness and security she’d never had.

She unscrewed the beer and handed it to him. “That smells delicious,” she said, eyeing the pizza. “And do I smell wings?”

“That you do,” he said.

“Nice. I’ll get plates.”

They dished the food and sat at the table. Damian told her about his conversation with Cole and their idea for cross-referencing the faces of the people who showed up on the cameras around Gatti’s favorite haunts.

She told him she’d been into the city to run some errands, and he made a point not to push for details. He knew how concerned she was about control, how much of it she’d sacrificed under Primo, who had monitored her every move.

Damian had no desire to control her — only to protect her.

She mentioned the security detail, so he knew Enzo and Andre had accompanied her to the city. Both men were were ex-Secret Service who qualified as snipers when they’d been active duty Special Forces. Both were trained in multiple forms of martial arts.

She’d been safe. That was all he cared about.

They went on to discuss a property Damian was considering purchasing on Kythnos not far from Locke’s. Aria had seemed surprised, and he made it clear that he intended to shore up assets and getaways to protect them in the future.

Greece had been good for her, in spite of what had happened to her in Athens, but he wanted to make sure she would be happy with a house there.

Her grin had left no doubt it was a good place to begin building their inventory of hideaways. Someday he would have to talk to her about Capri and what to do with the house there, but it was still too soon. He would wait until Gatti was taken care of and they’d had a chance to catch their breath.

When they finished dinner, they moved into the study. Damian added a couple logs to the fire while Aria put the leftover food in the fridge. When he turned around, she was standing near the sofa holding a small box tied with a yellow ribbon.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s… it’s a present,” she said.

Was it his imagination that she looked nervous?

He walked toward her and cupped her face in his hands.

“You didn’t have to get me a present, my love.”

“I know.” She laughed a little. “I didn’t mean to actually. It was kind of a… surprise for me too.”

He looked more closely at her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and thrust the box at him. “Just… please, open it.”

He took the box from her shaking hands and sat on the sofa while she stood over him, biting her thumbnail, nervous energy wafting off her in waves.

What was going on?

“You’re making me nervous,” he said. “Come sit with me.”

She sat next to him on the sofa and he turned to kiss her.

“Whatever it is, I know I’m going to love it,” he said, wanting to reassure her.

She laughed a little. “I hope so because it’s nonreturnable.”

He pulled at the ribbon. There was no wrapping paper, a fact for which he was grateful given Aria’s nervousness, and he quickly set aside the lid and parted the tissue paper.

It took him a few seconds to make sense of the grainy black and white image. He held his breath as he lifted it out of the box.

“Is this…” He turned toward her.

She nodded, her hands fluttering to her neck. “I… I didn’t plan it, but looking back, I guess neither of us should be surprised.”

“Surprised?” He could barley choke the word out around the emotion swelling through his body. “That’s not at all what I’m feeling.”

“What are you feeling?”

He turned to look at her. “Do you have to ask? Aria…” He looks down at the picture. “Is this our baby?”

She nodded, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

She leaned over, pointed to the bulbous shape at the top of the image. “That’s his or her head.” She traced the limbs. “And those are its arms and legs.”

He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him.

“Are you happy?” she asked.

“Am I…” He pulled back to look at her. She was carrying their child, a boy or girl that might have her eyes or mouth, that might have his hair or nose. A child born of their love. Of their strength. Of everything they’d been through to find each other. “I am beyond happy, my love. How could you think otherwise?”

“I don’t know.” Her throat rippled as she swallowed. “I’ve known for awhile now. I want to be honest about that, because we said there would be no secrets between us.”

“How long?”

She hesitated. “Since right after the shooting.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just… I was confused about everything that happened with Primo, and I was scared if I told you, I’d be locked up here for the next nine months.”

He grinned. “Damn right.”

She shook her head, her expression serious. “Don’t joke about that, Damian. I almost… I almost kept it from you until we got Malcolm. I don’t want to be treated like a piece of glass. I know how much you’ll want to protect me — to protect us — but I need to feel useful, need to be part of getting Malcolm. I need to do that for myself, and for Primo, too.”

“What are you saying?” he asked. “What exactly do you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I don’t know what’s coming. But I do know that I don’t want to be under lock and key. Not now or ever. And I need you to hear me on this, because if you try to keep me behind a golden door, we’re going to have problems. I’m trusting you with this, do you understand?”

He ran a hand through his hair. She was being honest with him, but he had to be honest too.

“All I want to do right now — after I make passionate love to you — is to prop you up on velvet cushions for the next… how far along are we?”

She smiled. “Almost three months.”

“So I want to prop you up on velvet cushions for the next six months, and then for the rest of your life afterwards, because I want a houseful of these…” he looked at the sonogram image again, “these aliens.”

She laughed through her tears before her expression got serious again.

“You can’t,” she whispered.

“What are the terms?” he asked. “When am I allowed to protect you my way?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “We can fight about it later. We will fight about it later, I’m sure. Right now, I’d like to skip to the passionate lovemaking part, if you don’t mind.”

He set down the picture of their baby and scooped up her legs to gently lay her out on the couch.

“I don’t mind,” he said, looking down at her.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking that I’ve never looked at the mother of my child before.”

He rested his palm against her cheek. It was the face of his beloved. The mother of his child and all the ones that would come later.

“I love you, Aria. You know that, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Now kiss me, will you?”

He touched his mouth to hers and lingered on the pillowy softness of her lips as he slid his hand into the hair at the back of her head.

He wanted to take his time with her tonight. To worship the body that would give birth to their child, the woman who would pass on all her love and strength and fierceness to their flesh and blood.

Her hands traveled up his chest and she wrapped them around his neck as she returned his kiss, slipping her tongue between his lips, inviting him into the warmth of her mouth.

He responded slowly, relishing the feel of her body under his, the way he fit into every hollow like she’d been carved out of marble for him.

The kiss was no less erotic for its slowness. His cock jumped to attention as he nestled into the heat between her legs. Their bodies were only separated by the thin denim of her jeans, the thicker denim of his, and the knowledge set fire to his already feverish body.

He knew what it would feel like to slide into her wet, swollen channel, to feel her hips rise to meet his as he drove into her.

But he wanted to remember the night he found out about their child. It wouldn’t be a memory they could share with anyone else, but he wanted to hold close the image of Aria’s body by the light of the fire, the knowledge that their child was safe and growing inside her.

He dropped kisses on her cheeks, on her closed eyelids, on the bridge of her nose. He nibbled at her ear lobe, his hands traveling down her chest, gently cupping her breast as he kissed his way down her neck.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the fullness of her flesh in his hand was an epiphany: the heavy breasts and rounded curves of her body, the hours she spent sleeping… it had all been because she was pregnant.

The thought of her carrying the secret alone filled him with tenderness, and he stroked one of her nipples carefully as he dipped his head to the hollow at the base of her throat.

He continued down her chest and she reached for his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it onto the floor. He disposed of hers next, then slid off her jeans.

When he was done he sat back on his knees, letting his eyes travel over the ripeness of her body. The changes were subtle: the luscious breasts, the slightly less flat stomach, the rounder curve of her hips.

“You’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been.”

He was seized by a fiercely protective instinct that only took him by surprise because he’d already been protective of Aria.

Had already been willing to lay down his life for her.

But this was something else, a mandate to ensure her happiness and survival, to ensure the happiness and survival of their child.

She looked up at him through half-closed eyes. “Come to me.”

He stood to take off his jeans, then stretched out over her, sighing as her silky flesh touched his, her delicate feet stroking his calves.

She licked his chest as he kissed her neck and shoulders. His cock was so swollen he would have been in pain if not for the stroke of her hands on his back, the touch of her lips against his skin.

He kissed his way from her shoulder down to one of her breasts, licked it slowly before taking it carefully in his mouth, sucking lightly until her back arched off the couch.

She sighed deeply as he flicked the peak with his tongue while it was ensconced in his mouth, his free hand caressing the other breast.

She maneuvered her hips to feel his tip brush against her clit and he laughed into her flesh.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said.

“It’s not a secret,” she murmured.

“I think I can help you out there,” he said, trailing his lips down her belly, thinking about their child floating in her warmth, its lullaby the sound of her heartbeat, the rhythm of their lovemaking rocking it to sleep.

He crouched between her legs, spread her thighs with his hand and ran his thumb over her engorged clit before he laid his palm flat on her belly.

He looked up at her. “Thank you.”

He lowered his mouth to her sex.