Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 84

Damian’s POV

I opened the door to find Dr. Matteo Ricci standing on my doorstep, medical bag in hand and an expression of professional courtesy that barely concealed his curiosity about being summoned to the Cavalieri estate.

"Mr. Cavalieri," he said with a slight nod. "I received your call about conducting a preliminary examination for fertility assessment. I understand time is of the essence?"

Dr. Ricci was competent, discreet, and expensive—exactly the kind of medical professional who catered to families like mine without asking uncomfortable questions. His practice specialized in reproductive medicine, and his client list read like a who's who of Florence's most powerful families.

"Yes," I replied, stepping aside to allow him entry. "Miss Rossi is ready for the consultation."

But even as I said the words, something uncomfortable twisted in my chest. The clinical nature of what we were about to do, the reduction of the intimate moment we'd almost shared to a medical procedure, felt wrong in ways I couldn't articulate.

"Excellent. I've brought everything necessary for a comprehensive evaluation. We'll need to establish baseline fertility markers, conduct a full gynecological examination, review her medical history..." He paused, consulting the tablet in his hands. "The examination will be quite thorough, I'm afraid. These assessments require careful attention to detail."

Thorough. The word hit me with unexpected force, conjuring images I had no business entertaining. This man would examine Aria in ways that were clinical, professional, and absolutely necessary—so why did the thought make me want to break something?

"About that," I said, my voice carrying more edge than intended. "I think it would be more appropriate to have a female physician conduct the examination."

Dr. Ricci's eyebrows rose slightly. "I assure you, Mr. Cavalieri, I maintain the highest standards of professionalism. I've conducted thousands of such examinations—"

"A female physician," I repeated firmly.

He studied my face for a moment, and I caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made my jaw tighten. "Of course. Though I have to say, such... protective instincts... are quite touching. Most men who engage my services are far more detached about the clinical aspects."

"This isn't about protective instincts," I said coldly. "It's about appropriate medical care."

"Naturally. I have a colleague—Dr. Isabella Ferretti—who specializes in reproductive medicine. Excellent reputation, very thorough. Would that be acceptable?"

"Perfect."

"Wonderful. Shall we reschedule for tomorrow morning? Dr. Ferretti operates out of the Palazzo Medici private hospital. Very discreet, very exclusive. Your... arrangement... will be handled with complete confidentiality."

"Tomorrow morning works," I agreed. "And Dr. Ricci? I'll be accompanying Miss Rossi to the appointment."

This time, his amusement was impossible to miss. "I see. Well, that's... unusual... but certainly not unheard of. Though I should mention that some aspects of the examination are quite private. Dr. Ferretti may prefer—"

"I'll be there," I said with finality.

After Dr. Ricci left, I found Aria in the kitchen, methodically cleaning up the remaining evidence of my cooking catastrophe. She'd changed from her silk robe into one of the casual dresses Jennifer had selected for her—a soft blue that made her eyes look like liquid amber. The domestic scene should have been peaceful, but there was tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there during our earlier intimate moment.

"The doctor?" she asked without looking up from the counter she was wiping with unnecessary thoroughness.

"Rescheduled. Tomorrow morning at the Palazzo Medici hospital. Dr. Isabella Ferretti will be conducting the examination instead."

"A woman?"

"A woman."

She paused in her cleaning, glancing at me with something that might have been gratitude. "Thank you. That's... that's more comfortable."

The simple acknowledgment sent unexpected warmth through my chest. When had her comfort become something I considered without conscious thought?

"I'll be accompanying you," I added.

The cloth she was holding stilled completely. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes."

"Damian—"

"This is important, Aria. Too important to leave to chance. I want to hear everything the doctor says firsthand, ensure that all questions are answered properly." I moved closer, noting how she tensed slightly as I approached.

She nodded slowly.

The next morning arrived with unseasonable rain, turning Florence's ancient streets into rivers of reflected light. The Palazzo Medici private hospital occupied a restored Renaissance building that had once housed Medici banking operations—an irony not lost on me as I escorted Aria through its marble corridors toward another kind of transaction.

"This is your first fertility assessment?" Dr. Ferretti asked Aria, reviewing the preliminary paperwork with practiced efficiency.

"Yes."

"Nothing to worry about. We'll take this step by step. First, I'll need to review your medical history, then conduct a physical examination, followed by some blood work to check hormone levels. The entire process should take about ninety minutes."

Ninety minutes. Time that would feel like hours while I waited outside, imagining every clinical detail of what was happening behind closed doors.

"Mr. Cavalieri," Dr. Ferretti continued, "I'll need to ask you to wait in the consultation room next door during the physical examination. Patient privacy, you understand."

Every instinct I possessed rebelled against leaving Aria alone in that room, vulnerable and exposed while a stranger—however professional—conducted the most intimate examination possible. The rational part of my mind understood the necessity, but rationality had nothing to do with the protective possessiveness surging through my veins.

"Of course," I said smoothly, though my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

The consultation room was decorated with the same understated luxury as the rest of the facility, but I couldn't focus on anything except the muffled sounds coming from next door. Dr. Ferretti's voice, calm and reassuring. Aria's quiet responses. The rustle of medical equipment being arranged.

I found myself pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, checking my watch every thirty seconds and fighting the irrational urge to demand updates through the closed door. This was routine medical care, nothing more. Women underwent these examinations every day without incident.

So why did my chest feel like it was being compressed by invisible hands?

The minutes crawled by with excruciating slowness. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Thirty. How long could a physical examination possibly take? What was happening in there that required such detailed attention?

"Just relax, Miss Rossi. This might feel a bit uncomfortable..."

Dr. Ferretti's voice carried through the thin walls, followed by Aria's quiet "Okay."

I resumed pacing, my expensive Italian leather shoes silent on the thick carpet. This was ridiculous. I was Damian Cavalieri—I'd negotiated multimillion-dollar deals with some of the most dangerous men in Europe without breaking a sweat. I'd faced down armed rivals and emerged victorious from situations that would have destroyed lesser men.

But the sound of medical instruments being arranged in the next room was somehow more terrifying than any of those encounters.

Forty-five minutes. Dr. Ferretti was speaking in lower tones now, explaining procedures that I couldn't quite make out through the walls. Aria's responses had become even quieter, barely audible.

Then I heard it.

A sharp cry—brief but unmistakably pained—that cut through my composure like a blade.

Before conscious thought could intervene, I was moving. My hand closed around the door handle and twisted, my body acting on pure instinct as I burst into the examination room.

"What's wrong? Is she—"

The words died in my throat as I took in the scene before me.

Aria was positioned on the examination table in stirrups, a medical gown draped strategically but leaving her completely vulnerable and exposed. Her face was flushed crimson with embarrassment, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists against the paper covering. Dr. Ferretti stood between her legs, medical instruments in hand, looking professional and unperturbed by my dramatic entrance.

"Mr. Cavalieri," Dr. Ferretti said calmly, not moving from her position. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside. This is a routine pelvic examination, and your presence is—"

"I heard her cry out," I said, my voice rougher than intended as I fought not to look at Aria's exposed form while simultaneously unable to look away from her face, which had gone from crimson to paper-white.

"A brief moment of discomfort during the internal examination. Completely normal." Dr. Ferretti's tone carried the patience of someone accustomed to dealing with anxious family members. "Miss Rossi is doing beautifully, but I really must insist—"

"Damian, please," Aria whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please just... go."

"I'm sorry," I said, backing toward the door without taking my eyes off her face. "I thought... I heard... I'm sorry."

I retreated to the consultation room with my heart hammering against my ribs and the image of Aria's mortified expression burned into my memory. What the hell was wrong with me? I was acting like some possessive lover instead of a man conducting a business arrangement.

The remaining forty-five minutes of the examination passed in excruciating silence from my side of the wall. When Dr. Ferretti finally emerged, her expression was professionally neutral but carried subtle notes of disapproval.

"Miss Rossi is getting dressed," she informed me coolly. "I'll have the results of her blood work within forty-eight hours. Based on the preliminary examination, she appears to be an excellent candidate for IVF procedures. We can begin hormone treatments as soon as you're both ready to proceed."

"Thank you."

When Aria finally emerged from the examination room, she couldn't meet my eyes. Her face was still flushed, and she moved with the careful precision of someone trying to maintain dignity after being stripped of it. She'd pulled her hair back into a severe ponytail and wrapped her coat tightly around herself like armor.

"Ready to go?" I asked quietly.

She nodded without speaking.

The drive back to the estate was conducted in heavy silence. Aria stared out the passenger window with studied focus, as if the Florence countryside held secrets that required her complete attention. Every attempt I made to initiate conversation was met with monosyllabic responses that made it clear she had no interest in discussing what had just occurred.

Finally, as we turned into the estate's gates, I couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"You're angry with me."

"I'm not angry," she said quietly, still not looking at me. "I'm mortified."

"Aria—"

"You burst into a medical examination, Damian. I was... I was completely exposed, and you just..." She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were flaming red again. "God, I can't even think about it without wanting to disappear."

The pain in her voice made something twist uncomfortably in my chest. "I thought you were hurt. I heard you cry out—"

"It was a routine pelvic exam! Of course it was uncomfortable!" She finally turned to look at me, "Dr. Ferretti was being as gentle as possible, but you don't understand—no one had ever... I'd never had an examination like that before, and then you just..."

"You're a virgin," I said quietly.

Her flush deepened impossibly. "Was. Until that night with you. But I'd never... medical examinations were something I couldn't afford, and then you just burst in while I was... while she was..."

She couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. I could imagine the vulnerability she'd felt, exposed and uncomfortable during her first gynecological examination, only to have me invade that private moment and witness her in the most compromising position possible.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it more than I'd meant anything in years. "I thought you were in distress. I acted on instinct."

"Instinct?" She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "What kind of instinct makes you burst into a medical examination?"

I didn't have a good answer for that question. The rational response would have been to wait for Dr. Ferretti to emerge and explain what had happened. But rationality had fled the moment I'd heard Aria's cry of discomfort, replaced by something primitive and protective that had overridden all my usual self-control.

"The kind that doesn't want to hear you in pain," I admitted quietly.

She stared at me for a long time, a hint of surprise flickering across her expression, as if she couldn't believe I would say such a thing.