[ELARA'S POV]
The wedding was set for two weeks after the proposal.
Which meant I'd be nine months pregnant. Due any day. Huge. Uncomfortable. Barely able to walk without waddling.
Damian didn't care.
"You're beautiful." He kept saying it. Every morning. Every night. Every time I complained about not fitting into anything.
"I'm the size of a whale."
"You're carrying my daughter." His hand pressed flat against my belly. "That makes you perfect."
I wanted to argue. But the way he looked at me made it impossible.
Like I was still the woman he'd dragged to that Vegas hotel room. Like pregnancy made me more attractive, not less.
Like he couldn't wait to get me alone and prove exactly how much he wanted me.
Which he did. Constantly.
The morning of the wedding, I woke up to contractions.
Not labor. Braxton Hicks. The fake ones that felt real enough to make me panic.
I grabbed Damian's arm. Squeezed.
He was awake instantly. Eyes alert.
"What's wrong?"
