Indisputably Yours

15.

Sienna

"This looks really bad." Tristan panicked for the millionth time, his voice still very husky with sleep.

He was holding my hair up and running his hand down my back. I didn't want him here but I didn't exactly have the willpower to push him away.

I clutched my stomach and groaned. "No, I'm fine, I'm just—" Bile curled up my throat again and I lowered my head, hurling more waste into the toilet.

Fuck.

I couldn't believe the first thing I was doing in Italy was throwing up like a freaking preggo.

This sucked.

"You're starting to scare me, Sienna, maybe we should call a doctor."

"No, don't." I croaked, shaking my head. I was done now. I didn't think I had anything left in me to give away. I let go of my hold on the tank and flushed the mess down the pipe. When I finally regained enough composure, I got up and could feel his eyes on me as I walked slowly to the sink and turned the faucet on.

He watched me rinse my mouth and face. I didn't know what to say to him, he had every right to be worried. I turned the faucet off and wiped my face with one of the fancy hotel towels. I was too tired to even begin admiring the state-of-the-art bathroom. Right now all I wanted to do was go back to bed and collapse into sleep.

Tossing the towel aside, I finally turned to meet my man. He stood there, tall and strong and very much naked save for his black briefs. His hair was tousled all over his forehead from sleep and how he managed to make those early morning eye bags look sexy I still didn't know. I blinked my doe eyes at him when he wouldn't stop staring at me with growing concern. "What?"

"You look sick."

"I look fine." I was fine. It was nothing serious. I was just a little sick from the flight.

"I'm not having this, I'm calling a doctor."

"You're worrying over nothing, babe."

He frowned. "This is the second time you're throwing up."

"I'm fine, Tristan, trust me."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I don't believe you."

Sighing, I took his hand and placed it over my forehead. "See? no fever, no nothing, I'm perfectly fine."

He stared at me, his dark eyes surveying me as he pondered my words, and after a moment of silent debate, his shoulders dropped. "Fine." He resigned with a sigh and retracted his hand to my cheek. "But please don't fall sick, I only just got you back."

Smiling, I lifted my hand to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes. "I won't, I promise."

His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "I love you, princess."

"I love you too." I smiled ruefully. "Let's go back to bed."

***

"You're not eating."

I snapped out of my inner musings and looked up from my plate to find Tristan watching me, his eyes warm and focused. How long had he been staring?

"I am," I told him, picking up my cup of cappuccino. The wind blew past us, reminding me that we were having breakfast on the private rooftop terrace that offered a view of the bright and inviting lagoon and the lustrously painted century-old buildings.

We were more or less surrounded by water, and although it kick-started my anxiety, I couldn't deny how beautiful it was. Nowhere really did beat the unique beauty of Venice.