You were careful. So careful.
Loose robes. Skipped meals disguised as “not hungry.” Every excuse is crafted to perfection.
You knew Terzo, and you knew how easily he could get inside someone’s head. So you stayed ahead of him—until now.
He stood in the doorway of your quarters, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent. His eyes, usually playful, were narrowed now—focused.
Dangerous.
"You think I don’t notice?" he asked, voice soft, but sharp like glass. "You’ve been hiding from me, tesoro."
You blinked, heart jumping in your throat. "What are you talking about?"
He stepped closer, tilting his head slightly. “You flinch every time someone touches your waist. You don’t drink wine at dinner anymore. And your robes—always baggy now, hmm?” His voice was still calm, almost teasing. But there was tension behind it, like a string pulled too tight.
“I’m not—” You tried, but the words stuck. His gaze locked on you, and the fight drained out of your body.
His smirk returned, slow and knowing. “Oh,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You are.”
You turned away, cheeks hot, arms instinctively wrapping around your midsection. "I was going to tell you. I just… I didn’t know how."
There was a beat of silence. Then Terzo let out a low laugh—not mocking, but stunned. “Madonna santa… I knocked you up.” He ran a hand through his hair, blinking like he couldn’t believe it himself.
Your heart pounded in your ears.
You still couldn’t look at him. “I didn’t know how you’d react.” Terzo was quiet for a second too long.
Then you felt his hands—gentle on your shoulders, guiding you to face him. His eyes were soft now, glassy almost, and the smile on his lips had melted into something more vulnerable.
“You thought I’d be angry?” he asked, voice low, hurt flickering behind it. “Tesoro, I may be a sinner, but I’m not heartless.”
You finally met his eyes. “So… what now?”
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours with a breathy little laugh. “Now? Now I make sure you eat something other than dry toast. And after that… we figure it out.”