Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (7 page)

Calisto knocked on the bathroom door for the fourth
time, ignoring the irritation settling deep in his gut. It unsettled him to be
in his uncle’s and Emma’s bedroom. He didn’t like the somber feel of the room,
and just looking at the unmade bed was enough to turn his stomach.

It still pissed him off.

It still made him
sick
.

Clearly, he was not over whatever little issue he had
with Affonso marrying Emma. Calisto couldn’t seem to move past the idea of the
woman having to share a bed night after night with Affonso, despite the fact
that she obviously did.

The woman was pregnant, after all.

Calisto drew in a slow breath, and willed away the
annoyance. Knocking on the bathroom door once more, Calisto said, “Emmy, are
you almost done, or what?”

He’d been knocking on the door for a while. Emma had
only answered him once, saying she didn’t feel well and asking for a couple of
minutes. Calisto didn’t understand a whole hell of a lot about pregnancy, but
he did know the mornings could be hell for some women.

It was better he didn’t pry.

Calisto didn’t need details.

He raised his fist to knock on the door again, only to
find it swinging open. His hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back.

Emma stood in the bathroom doorway, looking tired and
worn. Her hair had been thrown up into a messy bun, and she stood barefoot on
the tile. The silk, white robe she wore had been cinched at her waist, and fell
mid-thigh. Calisto’s gaze dropped to Emma’s midsection.

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

She was finally starting to show. Calisto had been
lucky enough to miss those changes, being that he stayed away. Now, he could
plainly see the early swell of Emma’s stomach pushing against the silk robe.

“Eighteen weeks,” she said softly.

Calisto’s gaze snapped back up to Emma’s face. It was
easier to focus on her pretty features with her soft lines and smooth skin
rather than the roundness of her stomach. She was with child—someone else’s
child.

It wasn’t his.

It would never be his.

Yet, Emma was still beautiful. Even in her state, with
her swell, her flushed skin, and her tired eyes. Calisto clenched his fists
tight, feeling his fingernails cut into his skin. A war raged inside his mind,
and an invisible agony following right behind. What in the hell was wrong with
him?

He felt like a sick bastard, almost enjoying the pain.

“I beg your pardon?” Calisto managed to ask.

“I’m eighteen weeks along, Cal.”

“Oh.”

Emma nodded. “Almost halfway.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes. I had some testing done early on, shortly after
I passed the first trimester. The doctor wanted to check the amniotic fluid and
do a genetic workup after what happened the first time. Everything seemed well.
It’s a boy.”

Calisto swallowed hard. “Affonso must be—”

“Thrilled,” she interrupted coolly. “He’s thrilled.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Would you have cared?”

Calisto didn’t respond.

Emma stepped out of the bathroom, and brushed past
Calisto without as much as a look in his direction. She immediately went toward
the large walk-in closet, and disappeared inside. Calisto rubbed a hand over
his face, wishing he could calm his inner thoughts and think for a moment.

“Did he send you up for me?” Emma asked from the
walk-in closet.

Calisto shook the heaviness off his shoulders. “Yes.
He was convinced he was already late. I’ll drive you to the breakfast.”

“Great.”

She didn’t sound like she thought it was great.

Calisto let it go.

Ten minutes later, Emma walked out of the closet
wearing a navy blue dress that hugged her curves and fell just above her knees.
She had applied very little makeup, just enough to put more color into her lips
and cheeks, and also some black mascara to fan her already long lashes. She
didn’t need the makeup. Her features were already vibrant and stood out in a
crowd of people. In her left hand, she held a pair of matching kitten heels.
She tossed the shoes to the floor, and slid her feet in.

Waving at her back, Emma said, “Zip me up.”

Calisto’s stomach clenched. The last time he’d touched
this woman’s back, she had been on her knees while he pounded into her from
behind. She’d been gripping white sheets, shaking all over, and gasping for
more.

Stop that
, he told himself.

“What are you waiting for?” Emma asked, clearly
irritated. “Aren’t we already late?”

“No,” Calisto said, offering nothing more.

He quickly crossed the room and zipped up the back of
Emma’s dress. He made sure not to touch her skin or her body over the dress as little
as was possible. He didn’t need more fuel added to the already growing fire.

The more Calisto thought about it, the more he was absolutely
convinced that he was punishing himself where Emma Donati was concerned. Surely
he could let whatever this little obsession was with the woman go.

So why didn’t he?

Emma tugged on the elastic in her hair, and pulled the
messy bun out. Her shiny, dark waves fell over her shoulders and down her back.
Tossing the elastic to a corner chair, she put a hand to her hip.

“How does this look?” she asked Calisto.

He dragged his gaze over her curves, her tiny swell,
and back up to her face. Despite how much it ached for him to see her like she
was, Emma looked good. Full of life, young, and healthy. Maybe he could finally
understand what people talked about when they said pregnant women glowed.

“Beautiful,” Calisto said honestly. “You look
beautiful, Emmy.”

For a split second, Emma’s stony features cracked. The
mask of disinterest and coldness broke away as her bottom lip trembled. She
balled and released her fists over and over again at her sides like she was
trying to figure out what to say.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Were you nervous?” he asked. “Was that why you were
hiding in the bathroom?”

“No.”

Emma’s distance and apathy was back in a blink.

Calisto wondered why.

What had he said?

“Are we ready to go?” she asked. “Because I don’t want
to stand around and chat, Cal.”

Apparently, it didn’t matter.

None of what he felt did.

Oddly, Calisto was grateful for Emma’s icy demeanor,
as strange as it was. She was simply reminding him, without knowing she was
doing it, that this was not his place. Her life was not for him to worry over.

She was
not
his.

That should have helped him.

It didn’t.

“Yeah,” Calisto finally replied, finding his voice.
“We can go anytime.”

“Then let’s do that.”

Emma grabbed a black clutch off the chair where she
had thrown the elastic earlier. Calisto let her lead the way out of the
bedroom, and he still avoided staring at the messy sheets on the bed as he
closed the door behind them.

As they began walking down the steps, Emma hollered a
goodbye out to her step-daughters. For a quick moment, when he heard both girls
answer Emma’s call back almost instantly, Calisto didn’t feel as guilty as he
had with Cynthia earlier.

At least
, he thought,
they found common
ground
.

The girls had someone to befriend, someone to trust
and talk to. He didn’t believe that Emma would take the girls’ secrets to
Affonso, or anything like that.

Emma was hard not to like.

At the last couple of steps, Emma stopped abruptly,
making Calisto almost collide into her back. His stare caught the sight of her
hand clenching tightly around the smooth, wood edge of the banister, and her
arm trembled. Emma sucked in a quick breath that sounded like she was in pain.

Calisto was at her side in a flash. “Emmy?”

She didn’t even blink. Her other hand grazed the side
of her stomach as she frowned, shook her head, and took another breath.

“Emmy, are you all right?” Calisto asked.

“Fine,” she said faintly.

The bright glow to her cheeks had left. Her mouth
pressed into a thin, grim line. The previous coldness of her green gaze had
been replaced with a confused daze as she touched the side of her small swell
again.

“I don’t think you are,
bella
. Are you in
pain?”

Emma pursed her lips, her hand coming up to push
Calisto away from her side. “I’m fine. We’re wasting time.”

“Emmy.”

She took the last couple of steps quickly.

“Stop worrying about me Calisto, and get me to the
damned breakfast.”

Not worrying was easier said than done.

Calisto decided not to argue.

Emma

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly.

She watched the cars they flew past, wondering who was
inside the vehicles, and what their lives might be like. Were they happy?

Calisto cleared his throat. “For what,
dolcezza
?”

“Earlier.”

“You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go on.”

Emma willed away the guilt compounding in her chest,
promising to keep her quiet. “I was snappy at you. I shouldn’t have been. You
didn’t deserve it.”

She caught sight of the small smile gracing Calisto’s darkly
handsomely features. Quickly, Emma turned her head again, not wanting to stare
at him for long. It never helped her, it only hurt.

“I think I can overlook it,” Calisto murmured.

“And why is that?”

“Hormones.”

Emma’s mouth popped open a second before she reached
over and whacked Calisto hard in the arm. It was nothing more than second
nature, and she didn’t think much of it. But when Calisto started to laugh,
hard and loud, Emma did all she could to stay still in the seat as she watched
him let loose. His shoulders shook and his soul-black eyes lightened in his
genuine amusement.

It made her companion all the more appealing. It
reminded her of one of their first drives together. It was bad all over.
Because it made her feel damn good all over.

Emma hid her sudden frown by looking back out the
window again. Apparently, Calisto hadn’t missed it.

“We’re not very good at this whole thing, are we?” he
asked.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Being near one another. Do you remember what you said
at the wedding reception when we danced?”

Emma wished her throat didn’t suddenly feel so thick
with emotions. “Yes.”

“Well, what was it?”

“That we could do this. Pretend like nothing happened.
Be friends.”

Calisto chuckled, but the sound was hollow and sad. “We’re
not very good at it. I hide away from you, making sure I’m not within yelling
distance. When I do come around, you barely hold back from spitting at me. Like
you hate me.”

Emma’s heart clenched painfully. She slowly rotated in
the seat, wanting to see Calisto as he spoke. Months ago, she’d learned that he
could be emotionless and detached on the outside, but his voice gave everything
away.

And his eyes, too.

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.

Calisto’s hands squeezed tighter around the steering
wheel. “No?”

“No. You make me feel angry sometimes, hurt, or
confused. Ashamed, when I look at my husband, embarrassed at myself, and sad.
And other times, when you’re around, I feel …”

“What, Emmy?”

“Hot. So strange. And that makes me irritated,
confused, and ashamed all over again.”

“Vicious, isn’t it?” he asked calmly. “Those circles
are fucking vicious, kitten.”

Emma should have told him right then and there to cut
out the pet names, but she didn’t. She liked the sound of them coming out of
his mouth far too much. The slight stubble dotting Calisto’s jaw and neck made
Emma’s fingers twitch in her lap. She had the strangest urge to reach across
the middle of the vehicle and run the tips of her fingers over the coarse hair.

She knew what it would feel like.

She had his lips on her body once.

She felt his stubble leave marks on her skin.

She
knew
.

The shame rose fast in her throat, making her sick
again. Emma hid the redness of her cheeks with her palms, taking a slow, deep
breath to soothe the nausea. It didn’t help a great deal.

“Yeah,” Calisto said, glancing at her. “We’re not very
good at this at all.”

Emma chose not to respond.

Another ten minutes passed the two by in silence. Her
stomach eventually settled, and the shame that never quite left began to
subside. Emma rested her hands on her lap, careful not to touch her midsection.

She still couldn’t do it.

The first miscarriage was … heartbreaking.

Even with the doubt and worry in her heart, Emma still
stroked the side of her thumb along the underside of her swell. She ignored the
dull ache in her chest and back as she rubbed her stomach, and let her thoughts
focus on the unborn child she was carrying.

A boy.

She had passed the first trimester, which was good.

It still wasn’t enough to calm her concerns.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught sight of
Calisto watching her with his usual impassive expression. She swore there was
both a warmth and a sadness to his gaze.

“What?” she dared to ask.

“I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“Oh?”

Calisto nodded. “You can’t be having a very easy go of
everything with this pregnancy. It’s probably stressful. I doubt that Affonso
helps a whole lot in that department. I should have made an effort to come
around more often over the Summer, maybe to take Cynthia and Michelle out of
your hair.”

“I adore those girls.”

“I’m glad for that,” he admitted. “I was hoping they
wouldn’t be too hard on you.”

“After they realized I was just another commodity to
their father, like they are to him, the nastiness went away. They’re good
girls. They miss their mom a lot.”

Calisto raised a single brow. “I miss her, too. She
was certainly the better half where Affonso and she were concerned.”

“It’s all right that you didn’t come around,” Emma
said. “We managed.”

“But I should have.”

“Better you didn’t.”

Calisto’s gaze narrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because that was what Affonso wanted. He was counting
on the pregnancy drawing you into the folds again. He said you probably
wouldn’t be able to help yourself, what with the way you seem to need to take
care of all his children in one way or another. You sure proved him wrong by
making every single effort you could not to come anywhere near me.”

Damn.

Even she couldn’t ignore the hurt and anger in her
tone.

Calisto drummed his fingers against leather. “Is that
all you want to say?”

“No.”

“What else?”

“I’m pregnant, Cal. Not carrying a disease.”

Calisto straightened in the driver’s seat like someone
had shoved a stake into his spine. “I don’t think that way.”

“It feels like it when you can’t even be bothered to
share a space with me.”

“
Mi dispiace
,” he apologized.

All of the little things that Emma had allowed to eat
away at her over the last few months came rushing out of her in a vomit of
words. She always had to be perfect, compliant, and quiet with her husband. She
was never allowed to have an opinion, or make her voice heard.

She was his perfect little thing.

Not a partner.

His
thing
.

Emma knew that Calisto didn’t think of her that way.
He’d showed her once how he thought of her, and exactly what he would do with
it all. He could take her anger.

She needed it out.

Not inside killing her.

Out
.

“You made me feel so goddamn guilty,” Emma said,
refusing to keep it in any longer. “Months ago when you found out about the
baby I lost, and all the things you said, you made me feel guilty. Like I did
something wrong; like I did
you
wrong.”

Calisto passed Emma another look. “I—”

“No, shut up and listen, Cal. I would have told you,
but you didn’t come around. And then you find out, and you think you suddenly
get the right to demand things from me and make me feel like I’m the bad guy? I
didn’t do anything wrong! You left me to find out I was pregnant with your
child, lie to my husband, and then miscarry the baby on a kitchen floor. Alone.
You don’t get to make me feel bad for that, Calisto. I tried, and I would have told
you everything had you just given me five minutes out of your life. Instead,
you disappeared. Where were
you
?”

“You’re right,” he said quickly.

“And then you up and do it again!”

“What?”

“This, again. You make a big deal about what I did by
not telling you, by losing the child, and then you once again spend months
keeping as far away from me as you can. Only this time, I’m pregnant, but it’s
not yours, so nothing about it is important.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely fucking are!”

Emma snapped back in the seat, further away from
Calisto. She was shocked at the level of his shout.

“You are,” he growled again. “I thought I was staying
away for you, Emmy. That you wouldn’t want me around after the last fucking
conversation we had. I acted like a grade-A asshole and I know it. You’re
right, you didn’t deserve that. And I am sorry that you have spent these last
months letting it weigh you down. I shouldn’t have done that. But you are
wrong, too.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“I didn’t stay away because you were pregnant with
Affonso’s child. I stayed away because that didn’t even matter to me. It didn’t
make a single difference that you are married, pregnant, and still not mine. I
thought about you too much—I still do. I obsessed over things people said about
you, or the way Affonso talked about you. I worried, I wondered, and I still
wanted you. I stayed away
for
you because I didn’t care about your
status, your husband, or your pregnancy. And that made me fucking disgusted
with myself. What kind of man does that make me? A horrible one. I couldn’t do
that to you. I couldn’t put that on you again. We did that once, and look at
where we are.”

Emma sucked in a hard breath, stunned.

She tried to speak, and failed.

Calisto hit the gas, making the car lurch forward.
“Are you happy now?”

No.

Yes.

Emma didn’t know.

She hated that he hurt. She liked that he hurt for
her. Calisto didn’t know it, but Emma was no better than him. It was sick and
wonderful.

“Well?” Calisto demanded. “Are you fucking happy?”

“I was once. I got to pretend for a little while. That
made me happy.”

Calisto’s jaw ticked. “Don’t, Emmy.”

She still did it, anyway.

“You were happy once, too.”

Calisto glared at Emma, and she glowered right back.
The silence in the vehicle stretched on, but Emma didn’t mind.

Shifting in the seat, she tried to find a comfortable
position. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to soothe the small twangs
of pain in her back.

“You all right?” Calisto asked.

“Tired.”

“You said that earlier, too. If there’s something
wrong—”

“There’s nothing,” she interjected.

There couldn’t be.