THE PAWN AND THE KING

25

Valenti's POV

I thought hiring five bodyguards was extreme enough, but no—Raeland, in all his over-the-top, mafia-boss glory, took it further the moment he found out I was carrying his child. Not content with just suffocating me in security, he went and purchased an entire estate. An entire estate. Why? Because I casually mentioned enjoying Alessia's beach house the other day. Now we're apparently moving into something five times the size, with every luxury and private view of the ocean, as if that would somehow shield me from the nausea that hasn't let up since I found out I was pregnant.

I don't have the strength to argue with him anymore. What would be the point? The man has a will of iron, and it's like arguing with a tidal wave—he just bulldozes through until he gets what he wants. Besides, there's a part of me, a small part, that's too exhausted to fight. I don't know if it's a psychological trick or something hormonal, but ever since I found out about this pregnancy, it's like my body decided to go on strike.

I lay in bed, the curtains drawn, with no desire to move. It's not that I want to stay here all day—I used to be so active, always moving, always doing something—but I can't seem to muster the energy anymore. My limbs feel heavy, like they've been filled with lead, and every time I try to sit up, my stomach twists in warning. Morning sickness, they call it. More like all-day sickness.

By late afternoon, I manage to drag myself out of bed. The soft sound of waves crashing against the shore just beyond the estate's sprawling balcony is supposed to be soothing, but today it only reminds me of how caged in I feel. Every detail in this place is a testament to Raeland's obsession with control—he has everything at his disposal to keep me "safe," to keep me under watch.

As if on cue, I hear the faint shuffle of footsteps outside the bedroom door. My bodyguards. They think they're subtle, but I know they're there, standing like silent shadows, ready to follow me the moment I step foot outside this room. And I know Raeland's behind it all—he can't help himself. He's possessive, overbearing, and relentless when it comes to me now, more than ever.

I let out a frustrated sigh, resting my hand on the slight curve of my belly. "You're not even here yet, and your father's already driving me insane."

I was talking to myself, of course—well, technically, I was talking to the little bean growing inside me. But as if summoned by my frustration, Raeland appeared out of nowhere. He knelt down beside me without a word, his eyes softening in that way they rarely did. It still amazed me how this man, so rough around the edges, could melt into someone else when it was just the two of us.

He leaned in, lowering himself until his lips brushed against my shirt. "Don't listen to your mommy, pancakes," he whispered, his voice playful and low. His hand splayed protectively over my belly, gently rubbing small circles. "You know she loves me."

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

He glanced up at me and winked, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes making my heart do an involuntary flip. "Absolutely," he replied with confidence. "Who could resist me?"

Blushing despite myself, I huffed. "Clearly not me, considering I'm stuck with you."

"Stuck?" His brow raised as he shifted slightly, looking at me with mock offense. "You make it sound like a prison sentence."

I shrugged, fighting the smile that was threatening to spread across my face. "Well, you do act like a warden sometimes."

He let out a low chuckle, his thumb still tracing my slightly curved stomach. "I'm just making sure my girls are taken care of," he said, then paused, as if realizing something. "Or boy... whichever. Pancakes hasn't told us yet."