Forty Six.

I slowly start to stir, groaning as I roll to my side and rub my eyes. As I pull back the curtains to my glassy, tired irises, I take in my surroundings and sit up.

This isn't my room.

My brows furrow and a soft sob escapes between my trembling lips. All the emotions I felt before I passed out, come crashing back like a Tsunami slamming into the shoreline, eradicating everything in its path.

A lone tear rolls down the side of my cheek and I violently wipe it away with the back of my hand. I am on borrowed time, I don't have the luxury to sit in this bed and cry over my son. My tears are better spilt when I have him in my arms.

I throw back the sheets and exit the room, wandering down a hallway as I follow the sound of voices speaking in hushed tones.

They lead me to a large door that has been left ajar; I stand next to it, attempting to maintain silence while listening to what they are saying.

"Are you sure he is your son, cousin?" A female voice asks with a touch of suspicion lacing her words. "I don't mean to overstep here, but, you did say she was raped and tormented by the hands of Trent and Ace."

I place three fingers over my mouth as I swallow the gasp that coaxes the back of my throat.

She's here.

His cousin. The trained assassin has finally arrived in the country and a little glimmer of hope envelopes my heart.

But the feeling of being looked down at as an Esposito victim slowly starts to dampen that little light of victory.

I never told him that I was raped nor did I ever mention that I was tortured by Ace. Has he known the truth this whole time? Accusing me of being in love with the mafia lifestyle just to hit a nerve.

Memories of Trent taking me against my will in front of his army goons with an audience watching the live stream flood my mind.

Anger, rage, bitterness, the sensation of feeling like utter filth clings to my body like a second layer of skin.

I feel like a failure, a weak excuse of a mother and I wish I can turn it all off like a God damn light switch.

I want to drown it, strangle it, and choke it till it turns to smoke. And I have attempted, Gods I have fought so valiantly. However, nothing works. No substance is ever effective. The cacophony, the intimidating feelings, never completely vanish.

It's always temporary.

Life can be so cruel and I'm its prey.

[Yes.] "Evet, take a look at the photo. There's no denying it, Neriman. He's a spitting image of myself when I was his age."

"He has your eyes." I sense her smiling.

Of course, he does.

I have lost count of the number of times I have found myself immersed in the depths of those enchanted irises with amber flecks that remind me of the sun setting over the distant horizon.

"I'm happy for you, Aydem. It's about time you produced an heir to your throne. You're not getting any younger or the wiser." She tsks.

I smile, blowing air out of my nose and I push the door open. They both turn to face me as I clear my throat, making my existence known.

Aydem crosses the room, standing in front of me as he gazes into my eyes with his hand resting on my shoulder. "How are you feeling, askim?" [My love?] His words are like a velvety cake that makes my tummy flutter with giddiness.

"I'm okay." I inwardly wince at my state of weakness. "How long was I out?"

"Twelve hours." He states firmly.

"Shit." I breathe out. "Where are we?" I enquire, taking a look around the room and noticing Sandro's photograph on a shelf next to an expansive bookcase.

"This is Sedar's old villa. He refused to give it up when he went back to Istanbul, Turkey with his wife." Neriman says as she leans her hip against the desk.

I shift my gaze from Aydems and look behind him.  [Kitten] "Kedi yavrusu, this is Neriman." He turns around to face her.

She pushes off the desk and strides towards me with the grace of an Angel and stops two feet in front of me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mila." She bows her head. "I've heard a lot about you and-"

"I understand your suspicion of me, and that is acceptable." I intervene. "However, the photo clearly shows that Aydem is Sandro's father. He may not have been conceived in a loving atmosphere, but he is here, and once he is returned, you can conduct all necessary testing."

I feel the air shift between us, thirty seconds of excruciating silence hangs in the air and she scoffs as her eyes slightly narrow.

"Usually my advice to a woman such as yourself would be for you to run. Fast and never look back if you value your life. But, under these circumstances." She exhales loudly. "I suggest you marry Aydem as soon as you can. If you think you're a target now, you're absolutely correct. But it is best to have a target on your back when you are married to a Peker. Everyone always hesitates before they strike and it's those few beats of hesitation that becomes our saving grace." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small box, handing it to Aydem.

Fine lines etch into his handsome complexion as he accepts the box and opens it. He clears his throat. "Is this what I think it is?" I watch his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

[Yes] "Evet, Sedar insisted that you accept our grandmother's ring and place it on Milas's finger." She replies softly, touching his forearm and stares at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

'Fucking assassins!' My inner Goddess exclaims.

"You are strong and by wearing this ring you will have our ancestors watching over you as they help to guide you through this difficult time." She exits the room, closing the door behind her.

I standstill, unmoving. I'm stunned by her words. They were kind, inviting and I instantly regret my statement.

"Mila," His voice calls out to me.

It is strained, dominant, rich and possessive all at the same time and it hypnotises me to face him.

My lips part as my heart flutters and my mouth curves into a smile. Aydem Burak aka Aydem Peker is kneeling on one knee before me with a beautiful ring peeking out of a small box.

"The past couple of days have been unyielding, tempestuous, wild filled with drama and temptation. You, Mila Starkk." He chuckles nervously. "You are like an orchid. Exotic, graceful, beautiful and strong. You are thoughtful, mature with a distinct flavour of calmness and it would bring me great euphoria if you will marry me and bestow upon me the privilege of adding to my line of succession." His body trembles visibly as he observes me with eyes filled with a deep yearning that should be considered a big sin.

"You want more children with... me?" I say shell shocked.

[Yes] "Evet, I want Sandro to have brothers and sisters, askim." [My love] He licks his lips and smiles.

"I.. Uh. So this will be a proper marriage?"

"I only intend to marry once and you're the lucky winner." He winks.

"Charming." I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"Well?"

"You're putting a lot of pressure on me here." My eyes shift from his gaze to the ring then back to him.

"Pressure makes Diamonds, askim. [My love] You have always shined brighter than the burning sun for me and I want to make you my wife." He grins as he rises and takes my hand in his, gently sliding the ring onto my finger.

"I didn't say yes." I bite my bottom lip as I admire the elegant ring wrapped around my finger.

"Your body language says otherwise." He grumbles, crushing his lips against mine as he seals his promise with a kiss.