Midnight

I held her hair back as she retched again and again. Finally she sat back, trembling from the exertion.

"Can I get you some water? Are you cold?" She slowly nodded, before fitfully swallowing. I kissed the top of her head, then walked over and grabbed my plush robe from the metal hanger near the shower. For once I was grateful for the cups hotels insist on putting in their bathrooms, as I filled one with water.

I crossed the bathroom back to Petra and slipped the robe onto her arms, over her pale and shaky shoulders, before tying it closed over her bump.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Are you sick?" I asked. "Is it something we ate?"

Her face puckered at the mention of food. "No." She murmured. "Whole pregnancy-" And before she could finish, she launched herself back over the toilet, vomiting again. Even with her stomach emptied, her body continued to violently fight her. Finally she sat back, leaning into my arms.

I kissed her temple lightly. "You're a great mother, Petra. All of this suffering for our girls, and not a word of complaint. They are so lucky to have you."

Feebly she nodded, then closed her eyes and laid her head against my chest. I took the opportunity to enjoy this moment. She could still tell me to go at the end of our year, but for now she was mine. My beautiful, strong, brilliant wife. I was irrevocably in love with her. I would do anything for her, even dismantle my crime syndicate.

My thoughts darkened as I thought about my phone call earlier.

"I'm not getting out, I'm downsizing. I need some liquidity. Arrange the sales. I won't justify my actions to you. I've paid my dues."

"I'm looking out for you, friend. I warned you before you got in that no one gets out."

I looked down at the exhausted, sleeping woman in my arms. She was worth the risk. My family was worth the risk.

Five Hours Earlier

The door clicked softly behind us as we walked down the pale blue halls of the Marbella. We stepped onto an elevator, and were quiet as we continued on through the lobby to his town car.

"I'll have you know the last time I agreed to dinner at an undisclosed location I was kidnapped and brought to a cabin in the Everglades." I said, looking at the open door warily. "So can I have a hint?"

Milos laughed. "No. Was that a plot from one of your telenovelas? It was very specific."

We both slid into our seats. As the door closed behind us, I turned to him. "No, I was kidnapped over Easter weekend of last year. Luckily I got my phone and escaped." I shivered at the memory. Milos' head whipped around.

"What?" He growled fiercely. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay? Was he arrested? Why didn't you tell me?"

For a fraction of a second I was back in Prague, with him screaming at me because it was my fault that men looked at me.

Nausea surged through me as I pulled at the door handle. "Stop the car. I'm getting out." My heart was pounding, there was bile rising in the back of my mouth. I tried to keep my voice cold and firm, but fear seeped through.

"I'm sorry. Petra, I'm sorry." Milos was castigating himself, rubbing his forehead. "Peter, unlock the door!"

There was a click and the door was open, cool air blowing on my face. My immediate panic slowly began to retreat, but my stomach was uneasy. "I have to go." I let him know as I walked as calmly and quickly as I could back to the suite. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, my palms were moist, my throat was tight. I stepped into the living room and grabbed my bag of rolls from earlier, before retreating back into my room and closing the door behind me.

I took off my dress, hung it up, and climbed straight into bed. It felt uncomfortable, lumpy, uninviting, and the room was too bright. A few minutes later I heard the front door open, and soft footsteps stopped outside my door. "Petra." Milos said softly. "I don't know if you're awake, or even in there. But I'm leaving your dinner by the door. I apologize for my reaction. I should have controlled myself. Goodnight."

Then his footsteps were gone, and I heard a door open and close. My stomach grumbled unpleasantly.

Getting out of bed, I padded to the door and quietly opened it, grabbing the basket he'd left. I sat back down on my bed and looked at the contents. All the food from our picnic in the park. My heart squeezed. He remembered, too.

It had been a warm spring day, soon after we began dating. It was the day I'd fallen in love with him over tiny sandwiches, pickles and strawberries out of season.

"A picnic?" I asked, laughing. "You're a bit romantic at heart, aren't you?"

He shook his head, as if surprised. "Not at all. There's just something about you."

His grin was wolfish. I really wanted him to kiss me. We kept walking until we arrived at the small park, more of a green space, really. Milos pulled a blanket out of the basket, and laid it on the grass. I sat, smoothing my skirt as I crossed my ankles demurely.

"You have excellent poise." He complimented. "I could have mistaken you for royalty."

I laughed. "I attended a girls' school. It was in the curriculum."

He gave me that little smile of his as he sat down beside me, our shoulders brushing as he moved. He lifted a jar of pickles, a plate of sandwiches, and an enormous bowl of fresh strawberries from the basket.

"Strawberries!" I exclaimed. "Out of season. Those must have cost a fortune."

"I thought you'd like them. A small luxury." He shrugged, but I could tell that I had pleased him.

"Well thank you." I said, turning my face to his. I hadn't realized how close we were. Our noses were almost touching. Slowly he lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping it. Our eyes met, and I felt like I could drown in those warm brown depths. I let my eyes close as his lips met mine in a tender, lingering kiss. It was like magic, everything clicked into place, everything felt so right.

I was in love.

Back in my room, my heart was heavy. I put the food and the basket by the side of my bed, and laid back down. As I tried to fall asleep, a small part of me longed for the blue room down the hall. Or maybe just its occupant.

I woke up hours later, acutely aware of a sudden, pressing urge to vomit. I flung back my covers and rushed to the bathroom, ignoring my state of undress. I barely made it, spilling the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet. As I retched and heaved, it occurred to me that I'd been foolish eating so little yesterday. Soon rushed footsteps joined me in the bathroom.

"Petra, are you okay?" I heaved again, gagging. I was shivering, my hair was in my face. Immediately he came and kneeled beside me, holding back my hair. "Do you need a doctor?"

I shook my head side to side, setting off another round of vomiting. He lightly rubbed my back as convulsions wracked me. I couldn't stop shaking, even after the heaving subsided.

"Do you need water? Are you cold?" I barely managed to nod up and down. He kissed the top of my head, then returned with a cup of water and his warm robe. It was enormous and plush, overwhelming my small frame. It smelled like him. My heart constricted. It hurt.

"Thank you." I managed to get out.

"Are you sick?" He asked. "Is it something you ate?"

Food. Nausea stirred within me, my stomach churned at the thought. "No." I murmured. "Whole pregnancy-"

Bile rose quickly into my mouth, and I lunged back at the toilet, vomiting again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of shaking and gagging, I felt well enough to move away from the toilet.

Not thinking, not caring, I sank back into Milos' arms, leaning against him. He was warm and stable, at least in this way. He kissed the side of my head. "You're a great mother, Petra. All of this suffering for our girls, and not a word of complaint. They are so lucky to have you."

I nodded weakly, then dropped my head against his chest and closed my eyes. Our girls. It kept echoing through my head. Our girls. Ours.

I woke again when she sun was up, streaming into the room. I was warm, relaxed. One of my hands was entwined with Milos', his other hand rested on my belly. His chest rose and fell calmly behind me, his heartbeat was a steady thumping in my ear.

"Good morning." He said quietly. "Feeling any better?"

I startled. "I thought you were sleeping. Yes, I'm feeling better. But if I don't eat in the next fifteen minutes, I'll get sick again." I paused, thinking. "The food from last night would be perfect."

Carefully Milos lifted me and stood. Once again it was like I was weightless to him. He carried me back to my room, gently sitting me on the bed and handing me the basket. "Can I get you anything?" He asked earnestly.

I shook my head, and he turned to go. My heart lurched. "Wait." I blurted out. "Stay. If you want. I mean, thank you. For last night. And this morning. And the food."

He turned around, a grin splitting his face. He looked so happy. "I would love to stay." He said. "Are you sick like that often?"

I shook my head, biting into another sandwich. "Not much any more. I didn't eat enough yesterday. I have to eat every fifteen minutes."

"I can't imagine you eating that often. You've never been much of a glutton." I shrugged, finishing my sandwich and grabbing a pickle.

"Call it a survival skill." I replied.

For a moment, Milos looked almost uncomfortable. "About your survival skills. I'm sorry about my reaction yesterday. It was excessive. I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have questioned you like it was your fault. I should have breathed until I was calm. Sometimes it's hard to calm down in the moment." Milos paused, then continued quietly. "I was on the phone with my counselor last night. That's why I heard you run to the bathroom. She thinks I should take a seminar about the repercussions of emotional and verbal abuse, to better understand what you live with. She thinks it will help me stop and think in the future."

"What do you think about that?" I asked him.

"I don't think I want to know how badly I hurt you." His body language was stiff, he kept fidgeting with the strawberry in his hands. "It will be difficult, but I signed up."

I looked him in the eyes. "It's hard for me, too, when you lose control. It was like I was back in Prague, I basically relived when you used to yell at me. I'm not ready to say if I want to try 'us' again. I don't know if I can ever feel safe loving you again. But I won't consider it if you can't keep yourself under control. I've lived in fear, and I will never do it again, Milos. Ever."

I hadn't meant to tip my hand, but it all rushed out of me in a cathartic surge.

"But you've considered it?" He asked in a reserved tone, but I could see through it.

"Yes." I replied slowly. "I have."

He moved closer. Our noses were almost touching. Slowly he lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping it. Our eyes met, and I felt like I could drown in those warm brown depths. I let my eyes close as his lips met mine in a tender, lingering kiss. Warmth spread through me, a familiar sweetness.

"You smell, my darling." Milos breathed out. I started to laugh.

"I don't know what you were expecting. You were there!" My eyes moved back to his, my blood heated in my veins. "Let's take a bath. I'll brush my teeth."

His grin was infectious as we went back to the bathroom and filled the tub. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, while he undressed and checked the temperature. Milos got in the tub first, then beckoned for me to join, sitting in front of him.

As soon as I sat down his hands were on me, lightly tracing over my skin. I moaned softly, rubbing up against him, turning my head so our mouths could meet. "Much better." He murmured with a little smile, before his lips melted against mine again.

Grabbing a wash cloth, he covered it with soap and slowly rubbed down every inch of my body. My neck, my arms, my back, my breasts. His hands coaxed my legs apart, running the soapy cloth lightly up and down my thighs. As one of his hands used a cup to rinse my skin of soap, his other hand ventured to my sex.

Soon a finger was teasing my clitoris and another was slipping between my feminine folds and entering me. I moaned at the welcome intrusion, lifting my hips to meet his ministrations.

"Oh, Milos." I sighed, surrendering myself to the sensations. His mouth was hot on my neck and shoulder, sucking, licking, and biting.

"Do you want me?" He asked, those hands of his playing me like an instrument.

"Yes." I hissed, clutching the sides of the tub. I sat forward on my knees and lowered myself onto his cock. He filled me perfectly, stretching me pleasantly. "Ah, you feel good." I murmured.

"Not as good as you." He replied, nuzzling the back of my neck. His hands ran up my body to my breasts, cupping them and teasing my nipples. I was slowly moving up and down, luxuriating in the pleasure it brought me.

The pressure inside me grew slowly, steadily, until Milos was all I could feel, until he was everything in my world. His hands were stroking me mercilessly, touching me until my entire body felt like it was on fire for him. He was the only thing I wanted, the only thing I cared about.

"Milos!" I gasped, calling out his name as I got closer, then as the force of my release shook my body. He followed close behind me, wrapping his arms around me and crushing me to him as he poured himself into me.

I moved so my legs were once again stretched out in front of me. We laid there for a while, with me still wrapped in his arms. "You don't have to worry. About the kidnapper." I said quietly. "I killed him. It was an accident, but I killed him."

"I'm sorry." Milos replied quietly, rubbing a hand over my stomach. "I know how hard it is, living with that. I wish I had been able to protect you."

I laid my hand on his, gently rubbing his thumb with mine. "It's not your responsibility. It was my actions, and my consequences."

He took a deep breath in and out. "You are my wife, my angel, everything good in my life. It is my responsibility to keep you safe. And unless you asked to be kidnapped, there's nothing you could ever do to deserve it."

I was thankful for the spaciousness of the tub as I moved to lie next to him. "We weren't married then." I reminded him.

"But I knew we would be. I've always known." He responded simply.

My mouth sought out his while my hand caressed his face. Love seemed to come so easily to him. I couldn't seem to understand it, how five years going by could leave his affections so unchanged.

"Petra?" We heard Rafael calling for me from the entrance of the suite. "Petra? You're not answering your phone. Are you okay?"

I groaned quietly, then called back. "I'm fine, I'm just in the bath. I'll be at the noon meeting."

"Do you want me to wait? It's in thirty minutes."

"No, it's okay. I'll see you there!" I let out a deep breath as I heard him leave. Milos was frowning. "What?"

"You didn't want him to know I was in here."

"No, I didn't." I agreed, getting out of the tub and grabbing a towel. "You should have seen the money Rafael offered me to keep you away from the girls. I don't want this to become an issue before it needs to be."

For one fleeting moment he looked hurt. Certainly not the anger or irrational jealousy I was expecting. "When will it need to be an issue?" He asked reasonably.

"I'm not sure." I replied honestly. "If we both survive the next six months, we can talk about it then."

He nodded, then wrapped me in his arms. "Six months, then. It's an improvement on the four months we would have had left as people in a tax shelter marriage."

I could see it in his eyes, in his smile. Hope.