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“I’m not covered!” Azzurra panicked, glancing around desperately for something to wear.

“I’m the one standing bare, Tigress,” Marcello muttered with a roll of his eyes, pulling on his boxers as though it were the most casual thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Azzurra scrambled to gather every piece of clothing she could find and shoved them hastily under the bed. Marcello could only stare at her in bewilderment.

“What do I do? What do I do?” she whispered frantically, hobbling about like a broken doll that had lost its gears.

The light knocking at the door turned into impatient thuds.
“Opwen up!” came the tiny, insistent voice.

“Oh no…” Azzurra gasped, horrified as her gaze landed on a blotch of blood staining the white sheets.

In a rush, she leapt onto the bed, tugging at the sheets, but in her flustered movements she didn’t notice her shirt riding up giving Marcello a shamelessly tempting view of her thick, round backside. He clicked his tongue and looked away quickly, though the tips of his ears betrayed him with a deep red flush.

Growling under his breath, Marcello strode over, wrapped his arms firmly around her waist, and hoisted her up along with the sheets. She squealed softly, clutching the fabric to her chest as he carried her into the bathroom.

“The hell are you doing?” she hissed in a harsh whisper, glaring up at him.

Marcello set her gently on her feet. The mess of linens was still bundled in her arms, her hair a wild tumble, and one sleeve of his shirt had slipped off her shoulder, baring the delicate curve of skin to his eyes. Emerald eyes stared up at him, wide and frantic, and in that moment she was the most beautiful chaos he’d ever seen.

He wanted her again pressed against the wall this time but restrained himself. If he let his hunger win now, she’d kill him… and little Cesario would sulk over the delay.

Placing his large hands on her shoulders, he drew her closer. “Relax,” he said firmly.

She only blinked back at him, dazed.

“I’ll handle Rio. Take your time shower, breathe. When you’re ready, come out,” he instructed. His voice was calm but commanding, and she could only nod, drunk on the nearness of him and the faint remnants of his cologne.

Before he left, his hand cupped the back of her neck and he stole a quick kiss from her lips. Then, with a final look, he strode out.

Azzurra quickly locked the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. She heard the creak of the door opening, the patter of small feet, and then a sharp little voice filled with indignation. She could picture Cesario, hands on his hips, glaring at Marcello as if accusing him of stealing her away.

“Where’s my Zuzu?” Cesario demanded.

Marcello’s amused voice answered, “Good morning to you too, little one.”

“Gwood morning,” came the grumpy mumble in reply.

Azzurra let out a soft sigh of relief. Marcello could handle him. Turning toward the bed, her cheeks flamed as her eyes caught the sheets. She couldn’t bear the thought of the maids discovering the stain. Quickly, she soaked the spot with water, scrubbing until the trace vanished, then tossed the sheets into the laundry basket.

Peeling out of Marcello’s shirt, she froze at the mirror. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. Her skin so pale was littered with bruises. Not the cruel kind, but bold, unmistakable love bites. Her bosom bore the worst of them, and when she spun around, sticking her bottom out to check, she slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Even there.

So this was why he’d been biting her all night.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned in circles before the mirror, tracing every mark he’d left. She looked utterly claimed loved to the point of ruin. Memories of last night flickered behind her eyes, and she shook her head quickly to chase them off.

Lowering her hand, she checked herself discreetly. Clean. She hadn’t noticed when he’d cared for her she’d been too far gone but he had. A tenderness that made her chest ache.

Blushing furiously, Azzurra slipped into the shower. Every drop of water against her skin reminded her of him, of the way he’d broken her and held her together all at once. Last night had been wild, unforgettable. She couldn’t wait for Moon to rise again though she would never admit it. If she did, he’d think her shameless.

Dressing quickly, she towel-dried her hair and stepped out, only to be struck still by the scene before her.

Marcello and Cesario were on the bed, wrestling, both laughing so hard it echoed through the room. For a moment, her heart swelled.

They froze when they saw her. Cesario scrambled upright, perched on Marcello’s stomach, and held out his arms.

“Zuzu, I misshed you!” he exclaimed, his little voice bursting with joy.

Azzurra rushed forward and scooped him into her embrace. He clung to her neck, hugging tightly, and she held him close, breathing him in. Over his shoulder, she caught Marcello watching them with a look that stirred something deep in her chest wondering, perhaps, what it would feel like to add a baby of their own to this fragile little family.

Unable to resist, he rose from the bed and wrapped them both in his massive arms, smothering them in a bear hug that made Cesario squeal with laughter and Azzurra gasp, complaining she couldn’t breathe.

“Mwarcello said you were sick,” Cesario announced with seriousness, cupping her cheeks in his pudgy hands so she had to meet his eyes. “He took care of you. I thanked him. But Iwet me take care of you nwext time, okay?”

Her throat tightened. She nodded, and Cesario kissed her cheek with all the sincerity of a child’s promise. She returned the kiss with a soft laugh, sneaking a glance at Marcello who was watching them with a foolish, utterly smitten smile.

“Alright, both of you,” Marcello said, straightening. “Get ready. We need to meet the kingdom.”

Azzurra blinked at him, stunned by the casual command. He was already tying the belt of his bathrobe when the door opened and the maids streamed in, their arms filled with gowns and boxes.

She turned to him, confused, but he only gave her a reassuring smile. And with that one look, she didn’t need to ask. She trusted him now completely.

Marcello disappeared into the bathroom for his shower while the maids hurried toward her and Cesario, ushering them both to the vanity. She followed without protest, still uncertain but unafraid.