The rumble of tires on the driveway broke the moment. Adam's head tilted slightly toward the sound, but his hand didn't leave her waist.
Sofia felt the faint tremor in her own breathing and stepped back, needing space—needing to get control of herself before she gave away too much.
"Is that—"
"The physician," Adam confirmed, his tone final.
"Adam," she began, hoping to reason with him, "this is really unnecessary—"
He silenced her with a look. Not sharp. Not cold. Just... unyielding. "Humor me, Sof. If everything's fine, you can tell me I was wrong later."
Before she could form a reply, the front door opened. Adam's private physician, Dr. Velasco, stepped inside, carrying a sleek leather medical bag. Adam guided Sofia forward with a hand at her lower back—light, but undeniably possessive.
"I'll stay," he said simply when she glanced at him, half expecting him to leave her alone for the examination.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
