“That’s the first time you’ve apologized since I met you.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
Then his expression darkened again.
“Why Brooklyn?”
I stiffened.
“You had me followed?”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I smelled thrift-store detergent on your coat.”
I blinked.
Only Luca would identify my hiding location through laundry soap.
“That’s unsettling.”
“You married unsettling.”
The old familiar tension flickered briefly between us.
Dangerous. Intimate.
Then his eyes lowered to my stomach again.
Slowly. Carefully.
“Can I?” he asked quietly.
My breath caught.
He was asking permission.
Luca Moretti never asked permission.
After a long hesitation, I nodded.
His large hand rested gently against my stomach.
The baby kicked instantly.
Luca froze.
Completely froze.
