SCARLET SINS

YEGOROV BRATVA

BOOK 2

KIRA COLE

Copyright © 2025 by Kira Cole

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

TRIGGER WARNING

This content is intended for mature audiences only. It includes material that may be considered offensive by some readers, featuring explicit language, intense sexual scenarios, and depictions of violence and murder. Viewer discretion is advised.

Proceed with caution.

Chapter One

ERIN

My head pounds. Every time I try to move it, bright, stomach-churning pain slices through me. It’s like the bones of my skull are scraping against each other and the world moves sickeningly.

Blackness swamps me and I drift away.

The world rears into an ugly life. One word is resounding in my head.

Sasha.

It hurts. My head fucking hurts and I moan.

Sasha.

This time, that thought snaps me awake completely. Not just Sasha I have to worry about, but the life growing inside me.

My heart gallops at an ungodly speed and I open my eyes, only to hiss as pain explodes again, this time at the bright light that’s blinding.

Am I being interrogated? I suck in a deep breath. I need to calm all the way down. There’s Sasha and the baby I know I want.

Demyan.

There’s also Demyan.

The anger and pain that’s been rocking me over him dissipates like it never existed. These aren’t his actions. What had Ilya said? His words jumbled and—oh God. He was shot—and… and he wanted me to run from the men who took me.

This isn’t Demyan.

And that’s a comfort it really is.

Because Demyan’s going to come after me.

I know it.

Feeling like I’ve stolen some false courage, I take it anyway, and cling to it, then I open my eyes.

The lights are still bright, but I squint, letting myself get used to it. Finally, I can see enough.

This is a cell.

A real one.

No windows.

Just a door that’s going to be locked because no one’s going through this effort to leave me to walk away.

No furniture really, just… I move… the bed I’m on. Thin, hard, squeaking.

The light above me is the only light in here and it’s still bright, like I’m under a spotlight.

I try to stand because I know if I don’t try that door and by some miracle it’s open, I’ll never forgive myself.

Swinging my legs over to the floor, I go to stand, but the clink of metal and the pull of chains hold me there. I turn as I sit and note my hands aren’t just shackled, but the chain’s locked to the wall beside the thin bed.

I scream. As loud as I can. It’s stupid. If someone’s gone to this effort, then no one’s going to hear that scream except maybe whoever’s got me imprisoned.

Fine by me.

I scream again. And when no one comes, I try and haul the chains out of the wall. But the chains don’t come free. Whoever they were originally meant for, they were meant to hold someone bigger, stronger. With a sob, I let my hands fall to my lap, the wrist shackles moving.

Made for someone bigger?

Maybe I can get my hands free.

That thought is planted deep in my head, and I ignore the pounding and the ache that comes with the light, the pain in my face from where I think someone hit me.

It gives me a moment’s pause, all the violence.

What if I lost⁠—

But I don’t feel wet, like I’ve been bleeding down there, and my panties aren’t stiff with anything that dried. They feel normal and my stomach’s queasy, but there’s no pain. Then again, I’ve only been pregnant once and that resulted in Sasha, so I don’t know⁠—

“Stop.”

I breathe in and look down. No blood on my clothes, either.

My hands shake and adrenaline fires through me. I try to work my hands out of the cuffs but cruelly they’re loose enough to move on me, but not loose enough to get off. They catch and bite into my skin and flesh where the bones meet the wrist, and even if I could dislocate every bone, I don’t think they’ll come off.

Still…

I try.

“It won’t work,” a voice says at the door, one filled with gravel and dislike. I snap up my head.

The door is open, and a man steps in, someone pulling it silently shut behind him.

He’s in an expensive suit. I’ve seen enough quality suits on Demyan, Ilya, on men in my former life—the CEOs I’ve pitched for—to see this suit cost.

It’s fitted well, and he has an unlit cigar in a beringed hand. He stands out like an aching thumb in this hovel, this run-down… whatever the hell place I’m in.

He’s younger than I thought. Even though I’m not sure what was in my head to be surprised at that. I guess unformed images of old, fat, ogre-types had been running through it.

Not a man who’s probably five to ten years older than Demyan, lean and dark blond, a man who holds the cigar like a prop, but one he’s used to holding.

And he looks at me with utter disdain.

“Who are you?” I snarl.

He laughs. “Anyone tell you—you’re pretty when you’re distressed? Even those bruises on your face accentuate the delicateness of your skin.”

“Just let me go.”

The man comes up and smiles down at me. His cologne is rich, expensive and on the edge of overbearing. “There’s no point fighting.”

“Please.” I force myself to sit calmly, to think. “Please, these chains, I… I need the bathroom.”

His face shows no emotion as he studies me.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

Delight blooms. “I’m Niko. The Niko.”

Somehow, I stop myself from saying I don’t know who that is. A man like this wouldn’t like that.

But… Oh God. Sasha’s missing. Demyan’s marrying someone named Stefina. Ilya getting shot. All of it comes crashing down.

And in the dust of that is the thing that pulled me from unconsciousness.

Sasha.

If anything’s happened to him, if this man touched him, hurt him, I’ll kill him with my bare hands. Somehow, wrap the chains around his neck and choke him to death.

I fucking swear if I have to hunt him down, I will.

Tears burn in my eyes and swell my throat.

No, I can’t even think something has happened. I might be mad at Demyan, but he’ll never let something happen to our son, never. He’d rip the world apart the way I want to.

I drag in a breath and look up at this Niko. He might be a good-looking man, but his eyes are cruel, cold. And that diminishes anything attractive about him.

My heart aches as I battle the panic and I look at him, hoping he has some heart, a drop of compassion. “This was a mistake,” I say. “I’ve never done anything to you. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. If you⁠—”

“What? Let you go? You believe your lover will rain down gifts on me? His thanks?” Niko laughs. “Demyan’s worse than me.” Then he gives me a facsimile of surprise. “Or are you going to mention your son? His son, I assume, since a fucker like that would never have taken in some other man’s spawn.”

My head swims and I think I’m going to throw up. Somehow, I control myself. “Please let me go back to my son. My son.”

I hate myself a little for that emphasis, but right now I’ll do anything⁠—

“And do you know where he is?” Niko asks, voice cold and deadly.

It’s like he punched me in the gut.

Something snaps and I launch myself at him. The chains pull taut.

“Where’s my son?” I scream. “You? Did you take him?”

And Niko laughs.

I throw myself against the chains again. “If you’ve hurt so much as one hair on that little boy, so help me God, I’ll⁠—”

“What? You’ll what? Hurt me? Kill me?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think so. After all, you can’t even do anything about this.”

“You monster⁠—”

He backhands me hard across the face and it kills my words. I see stars. And pain bursts inside as my head whips fast.

I shake my head and make myself look at him.

He smirks.

“You can’t do a fucking thing.”

The worst thing is, he’s right. I can’t protect my son. I don’t even know where he is and even if I did, how the hell can I protect him?

He’s missing and I’m here, chained like an animal.

Unable to protect Sasha, myself, the baby inside me.

What kind of mother am I?

I did this. By not listening to Ilya, I got captured, put this new life in me in danger, my son. I might have gotten Ilya killed. Now Demyan’s going to have to deal with that, and find my son and me?

I gulp down a cry.

The monster, Niko, runs a hand over my head, almost lovingly, and it makes me want to puke all over him and his thousand-dollar suit.

He then tucks his unlit cigar away. “If you know what’s good for you, and your sweet little boy, Sasha, you’ll keep quiet. As in, shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”

I nod, heart full of fury and pain, and I look at him again, risking saying something. “What are you going to do with me?”

This time he rubs his hand over the sting in my cheek that burns the place where he hit me. “Good thing my rings didn’t catch. I don’t mind bruising—I find it fun—but I don’t like… permanent damage.”

“Please. Please, Niko⁠—”

“Relax, Erin, pretty baby doll. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then—”

“My beef is with Demyan. You’re just a dumb pretty thing that got dazzled. But now you’re bait. At least, until I have no use for you and then…” He shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe you could warm my bed. Or one of my men’s.”

Panic flares bright.

“And Sasha?”

“I don’t want the spawn of that man.”

The bottom falls out of my world. I don’t know what that means. I don’t⁠—

“Stop panicking. It’s tiresome. Now someone will be down to take you to the bathroom. It’s in here, and you’ll be watched the entire time.”

Hate boils in me.

“And don’t even think of trying to run, because there are men outside the door and they’ve got orders to shoot anyone who isn’t one of them who tries to come out of here. You understand me?”

I just stare stony-faced at him.

“Do you understand, Erin?”

“Yes.” I push the word out.

He claps his hands. “Excellent. Get some rest. I’m sure you’re tired.”

He saunters away, through the door. It swings silently shut and I don’t even hear the scrape of a key.

I look around at the cold, bare room, the cell. Then I glance up. No cameras, there’s at least that.

I curl up, my chains clanking as a hot tear leaks out. But I squeeze my eyes tight, refusing to let more fall.

Oh God. What have I done? I try to regulate my breathing, try to control the panic that’s clawing at me from within.

But I’m scared, petrified. For Sasha, for the baby, and for me. And I silently pray Demyan will find me before it’s too late.

Chapter Two

DEMYAN

Anger is something I cling to. I can use it. I know it, and there’s strength to be found in anger as long as you stay in charge.

The other thing in me?

It’s new.

Frightening.

And it threatens to bring me crashing to my knees.

I’m so fucking frantic that if I give in, I don’t know if I could function. It turns my stomach, mixes with the panic and not even the knowledge my boy’s safe back here, now in the fortress-like mansion. Extra fucking alarms. More guards, more guns, and, of course, a new head of security do nothing.

Exactly nothing.

Erin is missing.

And it’s my fucking fault.

She’s gone, stolen from the hospital, and the only one I can turn that fury on is myself. I know Ilya he’d have died for her, to keep her safe. And he just might, at that.

I pick up the vodka bottle and down a good slug of it as I pace my fucking office.

My woman’s missing, stolen, just like my son was from here as a red fucking herring. And my best friend’s undergoing emergency surgery.

A gunshot wound to the stomach.

I rub a hand over my face and take another slug. The doctors said if Ilya had been shot anywhere other than at the hospital, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Ilya can handle pretty much anything, I’m aware of that, but it sounds like an ambush and how the hell did he end up in the stairwell shot? Apparently, the trail of blood led from there to the hall where he collapsed, holding on long enough to demand they call me.

And—I try and drink some more, but the fucking bottle is empty. It only had a third in there when I grabbed it, but still…

I throw the thing against the wall, and it smashes.

What I should have done was have an army there, too. And here. A good army. One that could protect Sasha and also Ilya and Erin.

I could have lost all three of them.

Fuck. I turn and throw a chair, and then I punch and kick the wall.

“Did that help?”

I whirl around to where my sister stands, just inside the door. She doesn’t look frightened of my temper, and she shouldn’t be. I’d never project it toward her, ever. But she looks worried. On top of her grief, she’s worried.

Shit. I want to kick the fucking wall again.

“No,” I snarl. “It didn’t. What I should be is scouring the city for Erin. Hunting down the fuck who did all this, shot Ilya, and killed Max and… I can’t. Because all my leads have come up empty. Fucking Niko isn’t anywhere he usually is. He isn’t even at any of his fucking homes. He must have somewhere…”

I pick something up from the table and smash that, too. It was a gaudy porcelain figurine that I think belonged to my fucking father. I hated it, so I really don’t care.

Even Sergio isn’t out and about for me to torture and kill just because I can.

Which I can’t, because I need him⁠—

Right now, the intricacies of the interconnecting territories of allies and enemies in my world don’t interest me. I just want Erin.

“I’ll burn the fucking world down.”

“I’m glad you want to do something, and I get your anger and pain, believe me ” Alina utters a small, bitter laugh. “But Sasha’s finally asleep, so waking him won’t do you any favors. He wants his mama, and like it or not, we’re still not family to him.”

“And whose fault is that?” The guilt crushes me the moment I say it. She’s out there, somewhere, and if she’s hurt, if…

I swallow. Hard.

My hand clenches at that, and her gaze goes to it. “Demyan, he’s a little boy. He’s two. His world is his mama. Even if you’d been part of his life from day one, you’re never going to be mama. She’d still be his world. Daddy time comes in a few years when he stops being a baby. He’s a baby. A toddler’s a baby. It’s mama and it’ll always be mama.”

“I get it,” I push out. “I’m not fucking mama.”

“He did ask for you. Dane, Dino, whichever comes to him, that’s you and that’s something.” Her gaze softens. “But keep up this… tantrum and you’ll wake him and you’ll stress him.”

Tantrum? It’s not a fucking tantrum. It’s the physical manifestation of my mistakes, of the world imploding, of things happening I can’t control.

“I said I get it.”

“Be sure you do.” She wrings her hands. “So, no word about Erin?”

I shake my head.

She swallows. “And Ilya?”

“In surgery.”

There’s a long silence and I can pretty much fucking guess at the thoughts in her head. All this violence. It took the man she was going to marry, and if it takes Ilya, it might destroy her.

Especially since he too, was shot.

“I… he’ll be okay? Someone has to be okay in this nightmare, Demyan.”

I kick the wall again.

“Demyan.”

“Sorry, sorry, I won’t wake him.” I walk over to my sister and give her a hug. “I need to get out of here.” I mutter words of comfort and love in Russian into her hair, and there’s a part that isn’t awkward with the hug.

Fuck, maybe I need it, too.

Just to make sure she’s okay.

One less thing to worry about. “Go to bed, Angel. The place is now locked down. You’re safe.”

“Where are you going?”

I ease back. “I can’t stay here and do nothing. Just because all my leads have given me nothing but crickets, it doesn’t mean I can’t do something.”

“Like what?”

The fear in her voice stops me. I was going to hurl more words of violence down in the room, but she doesn’t need me saying that. It’s not a lie, the omission; it’s just not feeding her fear.

I will kill. I’ll tear people into pieces to get answers. Torture them. Do what it takes.

But she doesn’t need to hear that spoken aloud.

“Look myself, talk to people.”

“Demyan …”

I shrug. “I have allies. I’ll start there. Go to bed.”

She crosses her arms, then shakes her head, moving past me to pick up the broken porcelain and glass, but I stop her.

“I need to do something, too, Demyan.”

And she continues. I’m at a loss for what to do. If I was someone else, someone better, I guess, I’d be able to distract, to fix things for her. But I can’t. I know bringing Max back is beyond anyone, but people like Ilya, like Erin, bring smiles to her face and she needs those.

Of course my son does, too. That’s Sasha, an adorable child who could melt even the coldest, hardest heart. Make ones that haven’t beaten in the longest beat forever . After all, he did that to me.

And so did his mother.

I stop. Did? Does. It makes her beyond dangerous. They make me weak.

My chest tightens.

“Don’t cut yourself, Alina.”

She gives a small snort. “I’ve picked up a lot of broken things recently. I’m not afraid of being cut by glass. That heals.”

Her words punch me hard in the gut.

There are words. I know there are words. Great words. Perfects words. Ones that heal and help make things better. But they’re beyond me.

“I’m going to tuck Sasha in and head out. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

She just nods, and I turn and leave.

As I climb the stairs, ignoring my men—armed men in the house at posts—my weapon grows heavier with each step.

Maybe it’s the fact I know what I need to do. If Sergio had been out and about, I very well might have killed him. But he’s home inside his own fortress, and short of storming the damn gates and starting an all-out war, I can’t do that.

It’s the only thing keeping him alive.

That, and unfortunately, I think I need him.

He’s the last person I want to owe more favors to, but he might be able to actually help.

Our last altercation didn’t end well, but it didn’t end in a bloodbath, because we both want something. He fucked up, tried to play me and Niko, but I don’t think he trusts the dickbag anymore than I do, so if I go to him…

He might be able to help.

And then he’ll extract his pound of flesh.

The gun’s like an anvil in my holster, but I push open Sasha’s door, not glancing at the guard with the semiautomatic.

In the room, the night-light shines a soft light, and my boy sleeps, looking angelic with his chubby cheeks.

My heart squeezes tight and I’m so overcome I’m lost at sea. I cross to him and carefully brush a few strands of fine silk hair from his forehead.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” I say. “I love you, Sasha, my son.”

Then I rise, sighing heavily, and head out, taking a handful of men with me. Pavel, I have here. I know it’s not what he wants, but he’s always willing and he gets how important it is to have someone I trust who’s smart and can think on their feet in the mansion when I’m away.

As we drive to Sergio’s, I toy with the idea of moving the entourage to my penthouse in Chicago city itself. But I reject it. Yes, a smaller space might feel safer, but it’s also a world of glass and a gilded cage, one that becomes a target, one where any comings and goings would be a commodity.

The mansion, now that security’s been upped and tightened, is the safest bet.

I sit in the car on the street outside his townhouse, taking it in. The neighborhood’s beyond affluent and while I know he’s got a home outside of the city, like I do, he’s here. At least my intel told me that.

The other thing on my mind was if I should let him know I’m coming. But he’s not worth a thing if his people haven’t given him a heads-up.

With a sigh, I open the door and make my way across the footpath, narrowly missing a woman and her ridiculous dog, and ring the bell.

Sergio pulls open the door within seconds, smiling.

The fucker not only knew, but was lying in wait. I narrow my eyes. “Sergio.”

The smile gets wider, and satisfaction gleams in his gaze. “Demyan, welcome. I’ve been expecting you. Come in.”

I follow him in and whatever he’s going to say ends abruptly as I grab him and hurl him into the hallway wall, earning the click of a gun and a grunt from a guard who steps from a room.

My attention’s for the asshole Sergio and I ignore the guard. I lean in close to Sergio, cutting off his air with my forearm.

“First, my sister’s wedding is shot to fuck. Her fiancé—a fucking civilian—is murdered. Then my—” I almost say son. Almost. And I can’t remember if with the last face-off between me and Sergio I mentioned Sasha, let alone that he’s my son, but I stop myself. Just in case. Just in case the entire world hasn’t worked out, the little boy in my life is mine.

Hope springs fucking eternal.

“Then my second is shot. And the woman with us? Erin? Her son is taken. And now her. And if I find you had anything to do with any of this? You’re fucking dead.” I look him in the eye. “Is that clear?”

There’s a brief spark of fear, but as I release him, it’s gone and he laughs, waving a hand at the guard, who grunts but disappears.

“Demyan, is that any way to speak to the only man who can help you right now?”

I nod, taking a beat. This is all levels of wrong, but at the center of it, I think he’s telling the truth. Friend or foe or even fucking frenemy, the man’s right.

With Niko seemingly gone to ground, with him sending his men into that very, very private and secure hospital, into my fucking home, I’m not sure there’s anyone else.

Our world will be watching. My allies waiting for word, waiting, I know, to see if they need to shift alliances. The tremors are out there, vibrating.

Something’s going down and has been since Alina’s wedding.

Possibly since I took out Niko’s bag of dicks, he called a brother.

But everyone’s taking note and not moving unless help is asked.

I don’t want to owe those favors. I don’t need more firepower than I have at my disposal.

Sergio has information. I smell it, feel it.

And that’s what I need.

I’m going to have to play ball no matter how bitter it is.

But I’m not about to let this fuck know. “And how do I know that?” I spit the words. “Why should I trust a word you say?”

“Demyan.” He spreads his hands wide and walks down the hall, expecting me to follow.

I struggle to control the violence, the savage bite of anger in me as I follow him into his study where he’s pouring a drink. He leaves me one but I don’t touch it. Fuck protocol.

“Demyan,” he says again, “you wound me, you do. Of course you can trust me. After all, we’re going to be family.”

There it is, the hook in all this. And Erin’s bait.

“You do nothing without an ulterior motive.”

“You know what I want.”

“I told you⁠—”

“Believe me or not,” he says, sipping the amber liquid in his glass. “But I can help. And I know where Niko is holding this Erin. Your son’s mother.”

I wait, giving away nothing. Even though I want to rip his head from his shoulders.

“But,” he adds, “you’re right. I never give away anything for free.”

He downs his drink and goes to a drawer in his desk and rummages around before finally pulling out what looks like one of those old-fashioned dictator tape recorders.

“What the fuck, Sergio.”

“This time, I want confirmation that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain.” He presses record.

“Demyan Yegorov, this is in lieu of writing, which we will do, but I need a verbal confirmation you’re to marry my beautiful daughter, Stefina Augusto.”

I look at him. “In exchange for?”

“In exchange,” the man says, smiling broadly, “for my assistance, the great Don, Sergio Augusto’s gracious assistance in getting this Erin back safely. To her son.”

A muscle ticks in my jaw, but he’s got me. Every second Erin’s out there with Niko is a second more she’s in danger, and I don’t trust the fucker. Not at all.

I have no option. “I, Demyan Yegorov, agree to your terms.”

“Excellent. We have a deal.” He clicks off the recorder and tosses it on his desk. “You’re not going to drink up?”

“My patience is now nonexistent,” I snarl.

He sighs. “Very well. Come. I’ll give you the location and some extra men, so we can take Niko down.”

Chapter Three

ERIN

Crying isn’t an option.

I tell myself that as I try to stave off the tears, as I dash away the ones that fall with my hand.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here for. Sometimes I lie down, but I’m too scared to sleep, no matter how hard exhaustion pulls at me. The moment I close my eyes, I snap them open at the first wave of the edges of wakefulness unravelling.

If I sleep, what happens then?

My mouth is dry, and the back of my throat aches from the tears I’m holding back while also tickling with need for water, just like my queasy tummy turns and growls. If I ate, I’d hurl, but it doesn’t stop the hunger creeping in.

I long for my baby boy. And Demyan… Christ, how can I love a man who’s capable of marrying another and keeping me as a piece on the side? I concentrate on that wound because in the grand scheme of things, it’s small.

I know he said he wouldn’t, but his world is so vastly different from mine, so I don’t know if I believe him. And it’s a place of violence. I don’t want my child—children—exposed to that, to become that.

The fact Alina is good, and Demyan has a gentle side he rarely shows—except with me and with Sasha—it’s… I don’t know. It’s good. But is it enough?

Then again, could I even run?

The word run makes a sob rise and erupt and I lift a hand to press it against my mouth, the chains clanging, and that brings me sharply back to reality.

I’m a prisoner. I don’t know where I am or what this Niko intends to do with me. I don’t know if my baby boy is okay, and too much time being starved, left without water, and what will that do to the unborn baby in me? I don’t even know if Demyan’s alive.

I force myself to stop.

He’s alive. Niko said his beef was with Demyan. If he’d killed him, then why would I be here?

It hits me hard.

Am I bait?

Is Sasha?

And if Demyan doesn’t come, what will he do to my son?

This time, I can’t control the panic as it tears into me. I have to get out of here, escape, find my boy.

But how? My wrists are raw with trying to get free, a futile thing. The manacles are just that little bit too tight and even if I got out… No, even if I’m on the other side of the country, getting out is smart.

But how? I’m back to that again. I could wait for Demyan. If he knows.

Of course he knows. That’s the point of being taken the way I was.

The door opens. The only reason I know is I’m staring at it, and Niko comes in, looking fresh and clean, though there’s a film of dirt on him. The invisible kind. The dirt that comes with corruption and evil.

He’s holding a bottle of water in one beringed hand. “Thirsty?”

The taunt is laid open, bare. Of course I’m thirsty. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and it hurts to swallow. In fact, the sight of the bottle makes my entire mouth throb.

I think I’d kill him for a sip.

I hate myself for wanting to beg.

“And drink your drugged water? I’m fine.”

It costs to say that. Costs deeply.

“Why would I do that?” Niko asks. “There’s a saying about cutting off noses to spite your face. Don’t do that. Tell you what, I’ll help your wager. If you catch it, it’s yours. If you don’t, no drink of water at all. Here.”

He tosses me the bottle.

The shock of his words makes me fumble. The plastic is cold and slippery with condensation and my fingers are clumsy, but I manage to catch it, hugging it close against me.

And now I have it…

Dignity up and leaves. Control and will with it.

I’m so damn thirsty, it’s agony.

Holding the bottle up, I check it over, ignoring the self-satisfied grin on his face. It doesn’t look tampered with and it’s still sealed. I finally twist off the lid and guzzle down as much as I can before he suddenly rips it from me.

“Careful,” he says in mock concern. “You’ll be sick.”

Niko takes the lid from me and screws it on, setting the bottle on the floor, just within reach.

I want it, even as my stomach churns with the sudden intake of liquid. But I’m not going to throw up. I refuse. I need that liquid, and so does my baby.

My gaze shifts past Niko to the door. What I need is to be on the other side of it, free. I need to get the fuck out of here.

My body steadies, the nausea passes, and I reach out and grab the bottle, staring defiantly at him as I finish it.

But Niko just laughs. “You should have made it last, Erin. That’s the last drink you’ll be getting today.”

Screw you are the first words that come to my head, but I push them away. Instead, I force myself to think. Drinking it all is good. Because a body usually reacts after an intake of water. Like needing the bathroom. I don’t need to go. Yet. But he doesn’t know that.

“I was just too thirsty.”

“Too fucking bad.”

My lip quivers and I make myself smaller than I am, weaker. “Please let me go. I know you’re a reasonable man.”

Niko looks to the roof and lets out a hoot of laughter. “Me? Oh, I am, and reason says you stay here. Don’t worry, Erin. It’ll soon be over.”

“When? I need my son, I⁠—”

“That’s too damn bad. You’re my guest until I say otherwise.”

“Prisoner, you mean.”

“We’ll just differ on the interpretation. But once I get certain things in order, I’ll have someone alert Demyan you’re here and…” He smiles. “The prick will walk right into my trap.”

This time when the nausea hits, it’s got nothing to do with the water. I’ve no doubt that if he kills Demyan, he’ll kill me. After all, I’ll be able to identify him. Or maybe he’ll kill me and then Demyan. It doesn’t really matter.

If that happens, Sasha won’t have anyone.

There’s Alina, Kara, but it’s not the same. I know that.

I wanted Demyan to come and save me, but if he does, Niko will kill him. At least if Demyan rescues Sasha and decides not to come after me, Sasha will have a parent.

It’s insane, thinking that way, because Demyan’s the type to come after someone he thinks of as his. Even if he no longer wants me and his words of love were nothing but a lie, I’m the mother of his child, and to a man like Demyan, that means something.

To save Demyan, to give Sasha the chance at having at least one parent, hopefully two, I’m going to have to try and get out of here myself.

And all that water is the perfect excuse. At first, I thought maybe it’d give me a chance to see where I am, but now, I’m going to have to make a run for it.

I made it out of Demyan’s fortress; I can make it out of here.

I hope.

“Niko,” I whisper, trying to be as weak and small as I can be, “please, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll send one of my men. He will take you, and he’ll watch.”

His words of where the bathroom is in here come back on a wave of horror and I shake my head. “No! No, please. You must have one where I can go in private. Please…”

He looks at me for a long moment, then mutters something under his breath. Niko closes in on me and unlocks the restraints.

I try to control the surge of adrenaline.

Niko grabs me roughly by the arm and yanks me to my feet, hauling me, stumbling across the room, and out into a hall. It’s dark and we pass the guard at the door. Niko drags me up a few stairs and left to another hall. There’s not much to go on. I think, with the low lighting, that we’re underground, but past me, as I look down the hall, is a door with a rim of bright light around it.

My heart starts to thump hard. An exit?

To me, it sure looks like it. He shoves open a door to my left and snaps on a light. Then he basically throws me in. “Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

I nod and go to close the door. He puts a hand on it.

“I’m not peeing in front of you. Please move.”

For a moment I’m not sure he will, but he steps aside and lets me shut the door.

It stinks in here and I’m about to look around to see if I can escape when the door bangs open and Niko appears again.

“Get out.”

He grabs me by the face and squeezes, hurting my face, the bruises. “Speak to me like that again and peeing will be the least of your worries. I changed my mind. I’m letting you use the nicer facilities, but you’re going to be watched.”

Shit.

He lets me go and humiliation burns through me. But I’m not giving up.

I fight the urge to throw up as I stare at him, right in the eye, as I use the toilet as quickly as I can. Then I get up and wash my hands in the small dirty basin. The entire time, I keep one thought in my head to stop myself screaming at him, watching me relieve myself.

This is the nicer bathroom?

Christ, what’s the one like in my cell?

But as we head out, I keep myself on alert. If I get any chance to try and escape, it’s going to be in the walk back to my cell.

Niko’s phone rings and he answers it, his gaze cutting to me a moment, and he stops, so I do as well. As he speaks in a low, urgent voice in Russian, I steady myself. This is it. My one chance and I have to catch him off guard.

He’s distracted, but his gaze is on me, so I take that moment to take stock. I sweep my gaze up and down the hall. The man at my door’s not there, and now that I’m used to the low light, I can make out a couple of other doors, all of them shut. But the door up ahead is cracked open.

Now, every instinct whispers. Now.

I glance at Niko, but he’s not looking at me. He’s completely focused on his call. In fact, he’s turned partially away from me, clearly dismissing me as any kind of threat.

Good.

I seize my chance.

Elbowing Niko as hard as I can, I take off toward that ajar door with its ring of light, his phone clattering behind me.

“Fucking cunt,” he says.

But fear makes me fast and I streak for the door. I’m almost there when something catches my hair and jerks my head back, pain and agony flaring up in me.

I’m slammed against the wall, treated to the full strength and power of Niko.

His cologne is overwhelming as he pins me there, between him and the wall. “Decided to go play with my guards, did you? Because that’s not the way out.”

He steps back, my hair still wound around his hand, and he drags me back to my room, my cell. “Stupid fucking bitch,” he said, throwing me onto the floor, then kicking me in the back as I manage to twist to protect my belly at the last second.

“You’ll regret this, cunt.”

I sob, trying to control myself, but I can’t. I keep sobbing as he picks me up and throws me on the bed to restrain my wrists.

He grabs me by the throat and lifts his hand, forming it into a fist. Then he draws his arm back.

He’s strong and I quiver, trying to scream, to throw him off, but I can do neither because he’s crushing my throat with the hand wrapped around it and the restraints only allow me to twist and kick fruitlessly.

Niko slams his fist down on the thin pillow, the bed shaking with the reverberations.

And his hand tightens.

Spots burst and dance in my eyes and my lungs burn and ache as I try and fail to breathe.

Niko leans in close.

“Next time you need to go, you won’t even be released to use the one in here. You can piss yourself for all I care. That’s the last time you’ll see outside this room. Ever.”

Chapter Four

DEMYAN

Sergio isn’t with me. But his men are. Along with mine.

I’m fine with that. He never takes part in this kind of action if he can help it, but the fact it’s the joined forces serves me—and him.

I look at Pavel.

“No lookouts, sir, nothing. I’m not sure they’re expecting us.”

The house is way out in the suburbs, a run-down part where half the street’s abandoned.

First glance says this isn’t a Niko-type place, but it didn’t take much of a dig to find out who bought up the street and got all the permits for development.

A company of Niko’s. A new, legit one that Sergio knows all about.

“Maybe he is, and maybe he isn’t. Which place would you choose, Pavel?”

The man shrugs. “The community center that’s closed down is so obvious that most would rule it out. He doesn’t strike me as subtle. And he seems like a man who gets off on the double bluff. That’s where I’d choose. If I was him.”

I nod, and I’d be smiling if this wasn’t about the safety of Erin.

But Ilya’s right about him. He’s got a bright future with us.

Because it’s the exact spot Iwould storm.

“Sir?” Another of my soldiers turns up. “There’s a bunch of cigarette butts out back. Fresh. And big-ass boot prints in the dirt. And two doors over? An armored SUV.”

Pavel and I look at each other. “Okay. Let’s do this,” I say.

“Remember the boss’s woman is in there, so shoot to kill… carefully,” Pavel says to the soldier. “Number one priority is to rescue her. Got that?”

“Yes, Pavel.” The man nods, then nods at me. “Sir.”

“Anton?” I ask. The man waits. “Make sure everyone gets that message.”

He might be in there waiting, gun to her head. But I know she’s alive. Otherwise, Niko would’ve made a show of her already.

And he won’t kill her right away. He wants me to suffer.

I’m hoping for the element of surprise, but I’m going in like they’re ready.

Finally, I give the signal.

I want to be up front, but Pavel holds me back, a hand on my arm that’s borderline tantamount to a bullet to the head. Ilya would be no different, and he’s standing in for him. So I let it slide.

Just like I ignore the nerves that eat at me.

The gunfire starts, and I pull away, striding up, my own weapon at the ready. One of the felled men on the ground moves, but I shoot him in the head and continue on, down to the basement that’s been modified like it’s a small Gitmo. There’s a door at the end, but in the basement with torture hooks and chains is the last man standing.

I grab him and slam my rifle butt into his face, sending a spray of blood upward. The place is littered with bodies, and my men are exploring Pavel to my right.

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Who?” the man says, spitting blood.

“Erin. Where the fuck is she?”

The man doesn’t answer.

I nod to Pavel, who steps in to hold him as I punch him in the gut, then I punch him in the head. Pavel releases him and he crumbles. The moment he’s down, he starts laughing.

“The bitch is probably dead after she tried her little escape attempt. Elbowed the boss. Doesn’t take kindly to cunts that do that.”

I lift my leg and slam my foot down on his junk, hard. And then, as he screams, I shoot him in the head.

“The offices above are clear, but there’s a sub-basement,” Pavel murmurs.

The door. I race off toward it and take the stairs two at the time.

Fuck, there’s a whole corridor of doors. I start kicking them in, praying she’s okay. My men are behind me, but I don’t wait. Then I kick in once more.

“Erin!”

She’s fucking chained to a wall, sitting on a bed, battered and bruised and looking terrified.

“Oh my God, Erin.”

“Run, Demyan,” she rasps. “Run.”

Run? I’m not fucking running anywhere. I’m not leaving without her. Is⁠—

I’m halfway to her when I take her in. And as my gaze locks on her, I take in the state of her. What that sick bastard did. I catalogue the bruises and marks on her throat, like she’s been strangled.

It takes a second, maybe less, to do that.

But it feels like forever. Like time has stopped.

Niko is a dead man, breathing. And when I get him…

I take one more step when something, a flicker of a shadow, makes me whirl around.

Niko. He rushes me, face an ugly mask of hate, gun out, but I kick it from his hand, my rage taking me over.

He swings at me, and the blow glances off my shoulder as I turn to block him. He’s strong, yes, but he’s indulged in the good life a little too much, relied on his men a little too much to keep up with skills he should.

Skills like defending himself.

Not that it’d be a fair fight, even if he had.

I’m bigger, stronger, nastier, and angrier. I slam my fist into his face, then the other, and he reels back, somehow righting himself, and he comes at me again.

I’ve time to pull my weapon.

But I don’t.

I want him to feel pain. The depths of what he put me through.

So this time I deliver a hard uppercut, then I grab him around the neck and, holding him close, I deliver short, nasty punches to his balls, his liver and kidneys, his stomach. Then, as I step back, I deliver a hard punch to his throat. Not enough to break his hyoid, but enough to make him feel like he’s dying.

He tries to breathe, but I beat him senseless in earnest now. And I snarl and growl words with each punch. “You take my son. You take my woman. You put hands on her.”

He falls to his knees, face bloody, but I kick him hard in the belly. Then I send him to his back with a kick to his chin. He groans and I lay my boot in the fury, giving me strength, stealing all reason.

I want him dead. I want him to suffer. I want this fucking bastard’s brains splattered everywhere. I slam a foot down on his ribs, not even enjoying the snap of them. I kick him in the head, a cheekbone snapping. I stamp down on him with my heel, destroying his nose.

He flails feebly and I step on his arm and bring my other foot down in a hard stomp and crush his arm beneath my foot.

Niko’s a mess, a fucking mess. He’s wheezing with long pauses between each one, my own breath harsh and loud.

I kick the fuck a few more times. He lets out a horrible high-pitched sound, blood everywhere. But while I could keep him alive and in agony for fucking days, I’m not about to subject Erin to more of this.

I need to get her out of here.

He twitches.

Fuck him.

“You don’t deserve to even take another pain-filled breath, Niko.”

And then I pull out my gun and shoot the fucker in the head, killing him instantly.

Blood’s pounding through my ears, hot, wild, and there’s a sound, like a keening from the anger and adrenaline.

I drop and search the body for the key to free her.

When I find it, I turn and it’s her, not my anger, making that noise. Erin’s hysterical.

Fuck.

She’s going to think I’m a monster.

I am a monster.

But I free her, and she flings herself into my arms, sobbing. “I thought… I thought he’d kill you. A-a-and Sasha?” Her voice rises in pitch and hysteria. “My boy? Oh my God, my boy, is he…?”

“He’s okay, I promise, Erin, Lyubimaya,” I say, holding her close, lifting her in my arms to take her away from the mess. “And I’m hard to kill.”

That sets her off, into deep, heart-wrenching sobs, me telling her Sasha’s fine.

“Are you sure? I was so terrified,” Erin says between sobs.

“I got him back myself. He’s okay, he’s good. Unharmed. He misses you, but Alina’s watching him. The entire house is. He’s safe.”

Now.

But someone got in.

He’s dead and I’ve fixed the hole in security, but… fuck.

“And Ilya… he got shot. Because⁠—”

“He’s in surgery.”

“He’s alive?”

“Yes.”

She grabs my face. “I tried to get away b-because N-niko wanted you dead and I couldn’t…” She dissolves again.

I kiss her forehead. “Ah, Erin, I’m hard to kill, like I told you.”

I hold her tight, letting her trembles melt into mine, hoping like fuck she doesn’t notice.

With her face pressed deep in against my jacket, so she doesn’t see the carnage, I walk out of the room, away from the dead man who hurt her, who stole my son, and out of that cesspit of a place.

There’s going to be a feeding frenzy over his territories, over this, and right now, I don’t care.

I don’t care about anything other than getting her home.

Safe.

Chapter Five

ERIN

“I want to see my son.” I glare at the man holding my hand in that antiseptic smelling hellhole, the hospital.

“You need to be checked out. He tried to choke you. I want to make sure…” He doesn’t finish.

“No one touched me like that, Demyan.”

I squeeze his hand, oddly touched that this strong man is worried someone might have touched me in the wrong way. And I keep the threats made of exactly that, of rape and sexual abuse to myself.

Although I’m pretty sure he and his men killed everyone in there, I don’t want to set him off on a rampage.

The doctor comes in right as Demyan’s phone lights up and he kisses my hand before standing. “I’ll step out for a second and take the call. I’ll⁠—”

“I’d like some time alone with Ms. Banks,” the doctor says firmly to Demyan.

Demyan doesn’t move. Of course he doesn’t. He’s not going to listen to the doctor. He’s worried Niko or one of his men tried something or abused me, other than what’s been done to my face and throat—it hurts to swallow. But I need him out of here. I need some control.

I need to have some privacy, even though I’d rather not go through an exam, but I just smile at Demyan, regardless of how it hurts my lip and bruises to do so.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, Demyan. Go and see Ilya.” I try to keep my tone soft. “Please.”

“And I’d like to examine her,” the doctor says.

He’s about to protest when his gaze swivels to me. His lips thin. But he nods. “I’ll check on Ilya’s progress.”

I won that battle, but I get the feeling Demyan rarely backs down. But then again, I’ve never seen him so… unsure, so naked as he is now.

He’s shaken off attempts to check him and his hands over already and I just watch him go, glad because this will go faster without him here, and I’m determined to go home to be with my son as soon as I possibly can.

And I need that privacy.

As soon as he’s gone, the doctor examines me, tutting over my throat and my lip. He takes my blood pressure and temperature and asks if I need a rape kit. I tell him no. They hurt me, but no one did anything like that to me.

“Thank goodness,” he says, pressing the button to summon a nurse.

She comes in and he orders some pills and blood tests from her.

I get the feeling his relief is more for the fact Demyan won’t take out his anger on him if someone had touched me that way.

Oh, it’s for me, too. But mainly for Demyan.

I get it, but I think Demyan would hurt for me, blame himself, not do anything else here.

I answer all the doctor’s questions, and the nurse takes blood and leaves some pills.

“You and the baby are fine,” the doctor says. “The pills are for your throat, just over-the-counter painkillers, not harmful to the baby. But I need you to take it easy for a few days.”

“Can I go?”

“When Mr. Yegorov returns, yes. I do want you to make arrangements to see an OB-GYN.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll do that this week.”

“Do what this week?”

Demyan makes me jump. The man can be silent when he wants, and my heart skips when I see him. His handsome face, the worry there, the softness when he looks my way.

The doctor makes himself busy and I just take Demyan’s hand as he holds it out to me.

“Take it easy.”

Demyan frowns. “You’ll do nothing all week. For the next month. Maybe I won’t let your feet touch the ground.”

That elicits a small giggle from me. “That’s going to make bathroom time difficult.”

He comes close, leans in, and kisses me. “Impossible woman.” Then he straightens. “Ilya is out of surgery. And in recovery.”

I release a breath. “When can we see him?”

“You’re in the hospital, you’re going nowhere, and he’s critical, so he’s in the ICU. But he’s strong, stubborn, and hanging in. I have faith.”

I squeeze his hand. “He’ll be okay. I know it.”

“Fuck, Erin. I’m sorry, I’m⁠—”

“Don’t,” I whisper. “We need to concentrate on the fact Sasha’s fine and so is Ilya.”

“He’s in⁠—”

“And he’s going to be fine, Demyan. Can we go home?”

He frowns again. “Erin.”

“The doctor said I could go.”

“Well,” he says, “what are we waiting for?”

My heart’s wild and speeding in my chest as we step inside the door of the mansion. Suddenly, a squeal lights up the air and a tiny bullet speeds toward me.

“Mama!”

Sasha launches himself at me so hard and with so much enthusiasm, I stumble back, only to be caught by Demyan.

I start crying and hug my baby back.

He looks up at me, eyes glistening and sparking with love and accusations. “Mama! You left! Bad Mama!” And his arms immediately go up.

I lift him and he hugs me tight again.

“I missed you, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sasha.” I rain kisses all over him and he wiggles and his sticky—someone gave him candy—fingers grab at my hair and then my face, pinching and poking the bruises.

“Mama,” he says in a shocked whisper. “You hurted your face.”

“I’m okay, baby, I promise. And I’ll never leave you again.”

He nods. “Ainna and Oga gave me candy.” Then he leans in and whispers, “So did Dino.”

“It’s past your bedtime,” Demyan says, beating me to saying it. “Mama’s going to rest, Sasha, but Alina and Olga and I will⁠—”

“No,” I say. “I want to.”

Demyan gives me a hard look. “Okay, fine.”

I hug my son close and catch the smile of Alina, her sadness softened by the clear relief for me and the happiness that Sasha’s happy.

I climb the stairs. This isn’t home, but… but it feels like it. The little boy sweetness of Sasha, made sweeter by the candy he’s managed to gorge on, no doubt, fills me, soothes me, and I just hold him tight as he holds me, his head over my shoulder. He’s babbling away, and I’m listening to the sound of him, not the words. I’m listening to the beat of his heart as he wriggles, pulling my hair as he talks.

I catch the word Dino.

My heart thumps.

Demyan’s clearly behind us, and his low reply comes, making Sasha squeal with laughter.

When I reach his room, I set him down and look at him. “Baby, you’re sticky and dirty. Bathtime before bed.”

The joy of my return vanishes as his little face turns dark with thunder. “But I don’t wanna, Mama.”

“That’s too bad. You’ve got ducky to play with in the bath. And we can add bubbles.”

He tilts his head. “Bubbles?” Then he shrieks. “Bubbles!”

Bathtime ends up with me soaked and Demyan, too. After Sasha’s dried and dressed and baby teeth brushed, he’s ready for bed, but he’s not interested in leaving my arms.

So I compromise. “What if we sit in the chair and read?”

Demyan fitted his room with a big overstuffed armchair that’s perfect for little boys to climb on and curl up on or someone to sit and hold him.

“Okay, Mama.”

I sit and he climbs on my lap and it’s not until Demyan hands me Sasha’s favorite book that I realize I should be sharing Sasha with him right now. But I can’t. And I should feel guilty, too, but I don’t.

I’m just too happy to have Sasha back in my arms. In my life. I’m too relieved he’s okay and unharmed.

We read, well, I do ,and Demyan and Sasha listen. When Sasha falls asleep, Demyan rises, coming over to take Sasha.

“I’ll put him to bed, and you go rest,” he says.

“No.” I suck in a breath. “I need to.”

Demyan veers back and nods and it hurts my heart to see him turn to walk from the room.

“Hey,” I say.

He stops and turns.

I smile. “We can do it together.”

And Demyan, a man seemingly made of granite, softens with pleasure. It’s not the relief of rescuing me and this is something special which makes me throb with guilt because I’ve robbed him of it for two years.

It’s love for his son. Pleasure of being invited, even just a little, into the world I share with Sasha.

The fragility of the moment threatens to take up all the space in the room and I don’t breathe in case I ruin it.

But he moves first, blinking fast, his shoulders lifting and falling and his gaze sweeping down to his son.

“Here,” I say, offering him Sasha.

He freezes but as he looks at me, he relaxes and shakes his head. “I’ll do it tomorrow, if you’ll let me.”

“He’s our son. Of course.”

I think I fall for him harder because I get how difficult that was, giving up the moment I offered. Demyan pulls back the covers and I carefully place our son in the bed, tucking him in, running a hand over his soft hair and warm cheek, and I kiss him good night.

Demyan bends to touch his cheek and all I can think of in that moment is everything that was taken from him. Not by me and fate, but by his father, and I don’t think I’ve hated someone I’ve never met, someone who’s dead, as much as I hate that man.

When he straightens, Demyan takes my hand. “Bed.”

I sway a little. “I’m not tired.”

But he scoops me up like I weigh nothing at all and kisses my throat, nipping lightly. “Liar.”

He carries me into his room—our room—and lays me down on the bed. Then he sits watching me for long moments before sighing and clasping his hands. Demyan swallows, looking at them. “Are you okay? Really?”

“Demyan. You saved our son, and then you risked your life for me.”

He nods. “I—I’ll run you a bath.”

“I’m not two.” I sit up, putting a hand on his shoulder, and the vibrations that run through his strong body somehow give me strength. “And I’m good. Safe now. You saved me, Demyan. More than that, you saved Sasha.”

I lean in and kiss his cheek.

He stands and walks into his en suite. The hiss of the shower greets me. When he comes out, he’s followed by a small mist of steam, his trousers dotted with water spray.

“Temperature’s good. Shower.” He stares at me, daring me to fight. “You know, I’d have run you a bath, but it’d be a reminder of when I found you like a gift in my hotel tub.”

A small smile teases his mouth.

“So, since you have to take it easy, I’m going to go down and get you something to eat and drink. Shower and dress by the time I come back if you don’t want to be ravaged.”

Oh. God.

I don’t know what to do with this version of him. Or maybe I’m just tired and happy to be safe, reunited with my son. Our son. And… I touch my belly. I need to tell him. But I need the shower more. The thought of scrubbing that place off me, of ridding myself of the fact that cretin Niko watched me pee.

I’ll pick the time, something good, when I’m sure he’s relaxed and not too vulnerable like now.

Demyan looks at me and a thrill passes through my blood. The heat in his gaze, that openness, it’s something I want as mine.

He guides me into the bathroom, then heads out.

Thing is, I think as I strip, he’s not a man given to that kind of openness and vulnerabilities and I don’t want to bombard him with more things.

And I want to know we’re in a good place, after this strange euphoria wears off.

I make the water hotter and climb in, scrubbing myself all over. And then I let the hot needles pummel me cleaner, if that’s possible.

Finally, I get out and dry off, wrapping the big bath sheet around me. He’s not back, so I raid his walk-in closet, pulling out a workout shirt of his and putting it on.

It’s clean, but somehow has a slight Demyan scent to it. Detergent, maybe? It might be one of the subtle scents that mingle to make Demyan so irresistible.

I’m climbing into bed when he comes in with a tray. There’s fruit, a sandwich, soup, and hot chocolate that smells sinful and that’s what I choose.

It tastes even better.

“Eat some soup.”

“Demyan.”

“Erin.”

With a sigh, I set the mug, down and dip the spoon into the homemade chicken noodle soup and dutifully swallow a mouthful.

It’s delicious and I eat it all, filling my belly. But the moment I put the sandwich down, he cracks a bottle of water and points to the sandwich, then sets the bottle on the nightstand.

“No, Lyubimaya, sandwich, then the fruit.”

I try to hide my smile as I take one bite, then reach for the hot chocolate and take some more sips. He takes it and pushes the water into my hands. Then he fluffs the pillows and turns the lights low so the room’s golden and warm.

And… I’m going to scream.

“Demyan.” I have a sip of the water, then put it down, then I eat a berry and push the tray away. “I’m full and stop fussing. Please.”

He frowns, and he’s so like Sasha in that moment my heart wobbles and melts.

“Demyan,” I say again. “I love all the attention, I do, but you don’t need to do it. I’m happy I’m back. With you. With Sasha. You don’t need to fuss.”

His frown deepens and he picks up the tray. “I was just…” He stomps to the door and puts it outside, then closes it and stomps back.

You’d think I’d just tried to cut out his heart.

“I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me. I’m not good at this shit, okay?” The gruff accusation in his voice warms me and he sits on the bed, still frowning. Then he shakes his head and pushes a hand through his hair. “I fucking love you so much and if anything had happened to you⁠—”

I kiss him. I climb up onto his lap, kissing him and shutting him up. Oh, I could listen to his ham-fisted words of love, his attempts to show it forever. I’ll take the gruffness over smooth words, a tray of soup and hot chocolate over champagne and diamonds, or hothouse roses any day.

“I’m fine.” I hold his head between my hands and kiss him again, his mouth warm, delicious, a whiskey taste which tells me he chose that over vodka while I was showering. And… the faintest hint of chocolate. “Sasha is fine.”

I kiss him once more, his lips parting and our tongues touching. It sends an electric pulse through me.

But I know why I haven’t told him yet about the baby. It’s his, and he’s got a right to know. I need answers, though. So I take a deep breath. “I think we should talk about Stefina⁠—”

“No, it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

He kisses me, slow and soft and romantic, and it makes my head spin and my stomach perform flips.

Demyan lifts his head. “I said I’ve handled it. It’s all good, Erin. Now, unless you want to get ravaged, go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” I say. “I want you.”

“Erin…”

“I want to feel something good. Your kind of good, Demyan.”

His gaze glitters. And then he kisses me hard, a deep, carnal kiss as he slides me down on the bed. His hand slips up my thigh. “Oh, Lyubimaya, wet and naked under my shirt, just what the doctor ordered.”

I laugh and bite his shoulder. “Your doctor or mine?”

He pulls back. “Yours. He said get her wet and willing and begging for sex.” The smug maleness of him makes me throb deep within and he stands, stripping slowly, and his gorgeous body, broad with all those carved muscles revealed to me.

I don’t think it’s a sight I’ll ever get sick of.

As he slides into bed, he takes me in his arms, his erection brushing me. But he’s in no hurry.

“If you’re up to it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my ear.

A thrill washes through me. “With you, always.”

He smiles, and then he kisses me deep as he parts my thighs, dipping into the wetness there. Demyan starts to move down, clearly heading south under the covers, but I grip his hair, stopping him. “No. I need you. Hard and fast.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” I swallow. “I just want all those memories of being taken banished by you.”

And I draw him back in, kissing him.

He doesn’t need further encouragement. I don’t want romance right now. I want to be claimed, I need to be claimed by him, like he’s showing me how that other woman is gone and I’m his. That the marriage of convenience he brokered is now dead in the water, that he’s mine like I’m his.

Demyan’s mouth is hot, fierce, and he covers me, nudging my thighs farther apart as his rigid cock pushes into me, stretching me. I moan and bite his shoulder and he takes me hard. Each thrust cleanses me, makes me closer to him, and I wrap my thighs about him.

I lift my hips and with each slam he gets deeper, and my body tightens, the pleasure pulsating in me, needing freedom.

He’s not gentle. The savage thrusts are declarations of ownership. A claim. And I welcome each and every one.

My thoughts start to fracture as the pleasure builds inside, and soon it breaks, throwing me up into the orgasm, my release contracting hard on his cock in me, and it’s almost too much as he rises, thrusting deeper, making me shake and shudder and cry out. And then he comes, too, his hot seed filling me in spurts.

We collapse down and he kisses a path over me, pushing the T-shirt up to kiss and suck on my nipples, a sweet agony I welcome. Then he lifts his head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m with you,” I whisper. “Yes. Thank you, I needed… I needed that.”

I needed him.

He smiled, but the concern is in his eyes as he tucks me away in his arms. Exhaustion crushes down, and I drift off.

Safe and secure.

It’s a dreamless sleep, one that slides into something like almost awake. I’m with Demyan, and he’s loving, holding me, and it’s not enough. My body throbs with need and words tumble from me in this waking dream. Then my body comes alive. He’s wet and hot, softly lapping at me. I’m taken from that place with waves of delicious slow pleasure, and I come fully awake, to find Demyan between my thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers buried in me, rocking me into a crashing orgasm.

“Oh my God.”

He laughs and raises his head, coming up from under the covers. “You asked so sweetly, how could I resist?”

“I did?”

“A thick with sleep voice said ‘Demyan, please…’”

I stare at him as he pulls me into his arms. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I fucking love you, Erin.”

Last night I fell asleep before telling him about the baby and as his words of love roll through me, making my heart race, I say, “I love you, too.”

I need to tell him.

“Demyan —”

Someone knocks on the door and he pulls the covers up just as it opens.

Alina pops her head in, and she looks very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. Demyan, you need to come to the living room. Now.”

Chapter Six

DEMYAN

Irritation spreads through me. It’s early and I know Alina or Olga have my wake at the crack of dawn demon son up and occupied.

“What is it?”

I push out of bed, pausing to take Erin’s hand. “Not Sasha.”

A small smile breaks out. “I know that. She asked for you, not us. Besides, Sasha’s got a pair of lungs on him when he wants to throw a tantrum.”

“This is going to be some idiotic business thing. It happens.” I shrug, kissing her hand. “It’ll be boring.”

“You live for your business.” She says this like my business is regular, and not one soaked in blood and violence.

But hopefully, her acceptance shows this is the safest place for her to be. Here, with me. Not that I’m letting her go anywhere. Her or our son.

“I live for you and Sasha.”

She blushes and rolls her eyes. “I’ll get dressed.”

“Stay up here with Sasha. It’s going to be boring.”

“What if it’s news about Ilya?”

I get up and pick out a suit, dressing quickly. “Maybe it’ll be news on the fucker who shot him. I’ll let you know.”

When I’m dressed and ready, I head out the door, not wanting to leave her, not so soon after getting her back. I’d planned a morning of slow sex, to make up for the hard and fast she’d demanded the night before. Even now as I check in on Sasha, who’s playing happily with Olga, Erin’s sweet words when she’d been mostly asleep this morning, asking for me, come back to tease my senses.

But I shove them away. I do have a meeting later today, an important one, so maybe they decided to push it up.

Or there’s trouble that has popped up.

It always does.

When I get down to the foyer, Magda’s face is set as she has a tray of coffee in her hands. “Sir,” she says.

My heart sinks.

Whoever it is, she doesn’t like them and Magda usually doesn’t show that on her face to such a degree.

I follow her into the living room and I go still.

Sergio.

And fucking Stefina with her too big hair and tight clothes. Both of them on my sofa. One looking like he’s off to the fucking opera, the other like she’s ready for a nightclub, already bored by her date and scrolling her phone for another. Fuck.

Magda presses a coffee into my hand first and then leaves the tray on the coffee table. She’s about to leave when I catch her eye and she stops, turns, and serves them.

As she does, I take the moment to fucking breathe.

I expected a report on some of those who make payments always on the edge of late, or trouble with the deal we have with a bratva outfit in Sheepshead Bay out in Brooklyn, New York.

This is worse.

Because while I expected getting out of this wouldn’t be easy, I thought the bastard would give me longer than than twenty-fours after the rescue.

But here he is, with his now bleached-blonde daughter. Last time her hair was dark, now it’s all curls piled high and teased or whatever the fuck women do. She’s pretty enough, maybe even beautiful if you like her kind of curated beauty. The makeup, the clothes, the stacked mile-high shoes, a handbag, that I’m guessing costs the same amount as a small car.

I don’t know enough about the designers and who’s who, but I know money when it’s put in front of me.

But this is over the top and I’m finding my tastes are simple, natural, small and curvy.

Not… this.

She’s a facsimile of the women I’d go to events with, women I’d fuck. But what she’s missing is the true class aspect.

That, or I just don’t like her.

And from the cool expression in her eyes, I’m guessing I’m not her number one choice.

That should make me feel mollified or even empathetic to her. I’m not either one. Stefina will milk this, go with Daddy’s plan. Stefina likes money, prestige, the highlife. Marry me and she thinks she can fuck whoever she wants.

And while she might not have feelings for me, her gaze lingers on my face and drops to my crotch. I get the impression she’d take a ride.

Fuck.

And then there’s Sergio. Coffee now served, he sits back, a triumphant smile on his face.

When Magda hands another cup to Stefina, I toy with a pay raise for her, just because she deliberately took her time in serving them, allowing me to gather myself.

I offer an easy smile and wait for Magda to leave.

It’s a skin-deep smile. Because I’m fucking furious.

Sergio sighs. “Good coffee.”

“Cut to the chase. It’s early, I’ve got a busy day. We have an appointment⁠—”

“That won’t do, Demyan,” he says, waving a hand in the air. “Time is of the essence.”

My gaze drifts to Stefina, who’s studying the room now, eyeing up various expensive pieces. “The place has good bones,” she says. “After I modernize it, this place will suit me just fine.”

I almost snap a threat at her, but I’ m not sure it’s meant as bait. I think she’s just that tasteless.

“I like my things as they are,” I say evenly.

She giggles, but that coolness remains. “You’re like Daddy. Stuck in the past.”

“Quiet,” Sergio says. “The men are talking.”

She closes her mouth, which I wanted. But perversely, it irritates me he treated her like that.

Christ, I want this over.

“You had a reason for coming by unannounced.”

“I think we’re long past formalities, Demyan.” Sergio smiles again. “After all, we’re merging.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I mutter. Then I notice the thick book sticking out of Stefina’s large leather tote, next to her handbag on the rug near her feet.

I run a hand down my face and take a sip of coffee.

“Sit,” Sergio says, “we have a morning ahead of us.”

“I’d rather stand and my morning’s booked up.”

“Not anymore.” Sergio’s smile broadens. “We’ve come over to fine-tune the wedding arrangements.”

Behind me, there’s an audible gasp and the bottom falls from my world. I spin. Erin stands there, hurt all over her face, a hand to her mouth like she’s been slapped and it only makes her bruises stand out more and guilt licks high inside me.

Fuck. This is not how I wanted her to find out that things aren’t as sorted out as I might have led her to think.

Her eyes find mine as Pavel appears, a frown on his face, subtle, but there. He doesn’t touch her but moves close.

I shift my gaze back to Erin.

“Demyan?”

Her broken whisper tears into me and I suck in a slow breath.

“I’ll explain later,” I mutter, keeping my voice low, and then I nod at Pavel, who slips an arm around her.

For a moment she resists. But she looks past me to where Sergio and Stefina sit, and she just looks away from me and turns to Pavel, letting him lead her out of the room.

“Demyan?” Sergio says. “We really need to get this underway.”

I turn back to Sergio. “Never come to my house without my permission.”

Sergio’s smug little smile deepens as his eyes twinkle. “Is that any way to speak to your future father-in-law?” He switches to Russian. “We’re family, are we not?”

“Nyet. Not yet.” I stick to English. “And until that moment, you ask before you turn up. I won’t be waylaid, and I won’t have my very busy day disrupted.”

Stefina’s gaze is on the door. “Very busy.”

“Our arrangement, Sergio, is not an invitation to poke into my holdings or my life. Just like I won’t do to you. This and all the accompanying conversations will happen at a time I see fit.” I stalk to the mantle over the fireplace and set my cup down. Then I turn back. “As I said, I’m busy. I’ll be in touch.”

And I gesture to the door as Pavel reappears. Alone.

“We have to discuss the wedding!” Stefina says.

I ignore her and wait until they gather their things and stand and Pavel and I escort them to the foyer.

Stefina glares at me like I forced her to suck a barrel of lemons, but I turn to Sergio. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

Anger flashes. “If you think⁠—”

“There are always legal matters.” Prenups and ways to get out of this fucking mess, but I keep that to myself. “I’ll be in touch.”

He nods, but doesn’t move as he stares at me. Then he takes one step toward me. “You have twenty-four hours to reach out.”

All I do is cross to the front door and open it, leaving them no choice but to walk through it of their own accord.

Sergio knows me well enough to know I’ll throw them both out and protocol be damned. And that kind of thing has a way of leaking, circulating, creating damaging whispers that he’ll allow such humiliations. So he steps on to the porch, along with his daughter.

“This wedding, Demyan, if it doesn’t start progressing soon, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”

Which will hurt me right back.

“Twenty-four hours,” he says again.

“I’m busy but I’m a man of my word.” And I slam the door in their faces.

I bite down on a string of curses and return to the living room. Marrying Stefina’s the last thing I want to do, but a promise is a promise.

I can’t risk being labeled as a bratva pakhan who fails to keep his word. Because if I don’t, no one will trust me again.

I’m no fan of Stefina, and she’s no fan of me, but I’m aware if there was no Erin or Sasha in my life, then I could perhaps manipulate it happily into something that serves me well.

But I do have them.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

If I’m going to get out of this mess, I need to be smart, bide my time, and find a legitimate out. Sergio is pushing for this because he needs my power. And his lack of an outright ask, along with trying to work a different sort of deal, says there’s dirt to be dug up.

There will be, I can feel it. There’s always dirt. But I hope it’s enough to use to negate this arrangement.

“Sir?”

I don’t turn to face Pavel. This is a problem of my own making. But I was desperate, back to the wall, and I’d do it all over again to save my family.

Now I just have to be coolheaded, smart. I turn. “How good are your connections?”

He shrugs. “Good enough. They’re not Ilya level, but they’re good.”

“When he’s stable, talk to him, but in the meantime, use all you have. I need all the dirt on Sergio. Public and private.” Then I pause. “And on Stefina.”

“The daughter? She’s not a player.” He frowns.

“She’s his daughter, she’s not outside our world, so yes, her, too. Anything at all. No rock unturned.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he takes his leave, I head upstairs to find Erin.

She’s not in her room, but the happy squeal of “Mama!” tells me exactly where she is.

Sasha’s trying to get his mangy stuffed goat from her and enjoying himself. Then he sees me.

“Dino! Mama stole my goat.”

My heart squeezes. I think it’s his way of telling me to help him. But then he squeals again as she teases him with it. “I think Mama’s in control, Sasha.”

In the corner, Olga smiles at the boy, then she looks at me and stands.

Erin refuses to turn.

“Olga will play with you while I talk to Mama, Sasha.”

Erin doesn’t turn, and it takes real effort for me to hold on to my temper. Unfair, perhaps, but how the fuck are we going to get anywhere if she goes cold?

Olga flushes like this is the last place she wants to be and she picks Sasha up. “Breakfast?”

He looks at her, at me, then at Erin, and finally at Olga. “Chocklit?”

I almost laugh at his business prowess. Because I can see he’s ready to unleash a tantrum if he doesn’t get his way.

“Eto moy mal’chik,” I say, making Olga bite down on a smile.

And Erin turns angrily to me, getting up as Olga takes that moment to bring the boy toward me.

“We’ll get a hot chocolate,” she says.

His face scrunches in suspicion as they pass. “Pop-tart!”

Erin tries to pass me, too.

I take her arm. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Speak English when I’m here⁠—”

“I just said that’s my boy, nothing else. I’ll teach you Russian if you want.”

She tries to shake me off.

“What? While you play husband to someone else?”

I narrow my eyes. “The only reason I found you was because Sergio gave up Niko’s location.”

“So you marry her?”

She pulls free and takes off to the bedroom. I follow and close the door. We stare at each other.

“He asked for this fucking marriage in return, and I agreed. I wasn’t going to risk you being hurt, Erin. Or worse. I promise I’ll fix this, but right now, I have to go along with it. I don’t have any other choice. There are powerful territories and people in play.”

Her lips press together. “I’m not from your world, Demyan. I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

She shakes her head.

“Can’t what, Erin?”

“I can’t do this. I appreciate that you saved me and Sasha. I’ll be forever in your debt for that. But watching you marry someone else is too much. I can’t.”

“You think I want to marry someone else?” I stalk up to her, and she stumbles back until she hits the wall. I don’t stop until I’m almost flush against her. “Do you really fucking think that?”

“I heard you.”

I close that gap. Then I cup her jaw, using my thump to tip her face to me. “Erin. Lyubimaya.”

I kiss her, hold her there, and kiss her deep.

She lets me.

Her mouth is soft and wet and pliable. And a vibration runs through her as I kiss her, gathering her close, flush against me as I ravish her mouth, trying to let her feel what she is to me, that she’s become my world, her and Sasha both.

She resists, because it’s Erin. She’s tough and determined and she tries to hold out despite herself, despite the way she half melts into me. But finally, she breaks. She opens for me, her tongue touching mine, and then she kisses me back. The kiss deepens and all the frustrations and anger morph into a dark passion and it threatens to drag us down until we fuck all the angst out of each other.

Letting go of her jaw, I stroke my hand down over her, pushing her dress up, and running my fingers over her panties that are wet now, clinging to her, and she moans. I push a finger beneath the material so I can touch her, flesh on flesh, and her moan deepens, and she starts to move her hips.

I slowly enter her as I kiss a path from her mouth to her throat and then to her ear, thrusting in a slow and steady beat that makes her crazy.

“You’re mine and no one else’s, you get that, right? You’re mine.”

She shudders, her pussy clenching down on me.

“And you’ll never be done with me, Erin, never.”

“Do you know how hypocritical that sounds, considering you’re going to marry another woman?”

She twists free, shoving my hand from her and as much as I don’t want to stop, as much as I want to make her come and come until I’ve broken, that will, until she knows I speak the truth, I stop.

I step back and clench my teeth as she goes to push past me. I might stop touching her intimately, but I’m not about to let her run off.

I hold her there. “Demyan.”

“No, Erin, I’m not done.”

She looks at me her face a mask, but it doesn’t hide the hurt. “What?”

“You’re the only woman I’m fucking marrying. Not Stefina, not anyone else. You. I just need time to figure this mess out.”

Chapter Seven

ERIN

It’s hard. Damn hard.

That night, I pretend to be asleep when he comes back late from a meeting. I don’t know where he was or who with, but there’s the thud of a gun in the bedside drawer, a sound I never thought I’d get used to or know. But surprise, now I do.

I fist my hand, ready to add it to the list of crimes like making me come and having sex with me the night before.

But the click of the lock takes that from me.

Sasha can’t get into the locked drawer and every single other person is hyper-careful with their weapons. No one leaves them lying around for sticky, curious little fingers to find. Not that Sasha’s ever given a chance.

Before Demyan can pull back the covers or go to the en suite to shower, his phone buzzes and he swears softly, turning and disappearing out of the room.

I get up and go to the door. I don’t even look at the guard as I cross the landing to the balcony of the staircase. His voice floats up from down below, from his study, and I sigh.

Instead of going to the bedroom I share with Demyan, I go into Sasha’s room. My baby’s sleeping, but there’s a small frown on his face and he stirs. “Mama?” His eyes flutter sleepily and I go to him, to those reaching little arms, and climb into the bed with him.

He sighs happily and his wiggly little body curls against me, with goat clutched tightly, and he drifts off again.

I hug him, having missed him more than I can say, knowing I could have lost him and he could have lost me.

Tears burn my eyes when the door creaks open. “Come back to bed.”

I don’t answer, but instead of leaving, Demyan comes over. I don’t hear him, but I can feel him, that tingling in me flaring bright as the pressure changes. Then, in the low soft glow of Sasha’s room, he comes around to the other side and crouches down.

For the longest time, he stares at our son and the love in his eyes pulls at my heart. He smooths Sasha’s hair from his forehead, then kisses it. Finally, he looks up at me.

“I get you want to punish me, but I don’t want to marry her and I’m not going to.”

“There’s a but. I sense a but.”

“Come back to our bed. This is ridiculous,” he murmurs.

“No.”

Silence spreads.

It’s not a word he’s heard often, I’m betting, and definitely not one directed at him by a woman. And here I am, with a heart that aches and bleeds for him, saying no.

I’m safe here, with Sasha. And he’s too aware of the brutality inflicted on me to do anything. His kid gloves are firmly on. I’ll worry about them when they come off and not before.

“Sasha needs me.”

“And there’s a but, right?” He sighs. “Fine. I have to play this carefully. But it’s you I love, Erin. You I’m going to marry. Not her. Okay?”

I just look at him. He stands, then leans over Sasha and kisses me, too. The spot on my cheek burns bright.

“Will you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He sighs. “Trust always means a choice. But I love you and I promise I’m going to find a way out of this wedding. Good night, Lyubimaya.”

The next day I’m still angry, still twisted inside. I’ve just finished feeding Sasha, who’s anxious to get to his toys and then go and play in the backyard.

I’m taking him up to get changed when the doorbell rings. Demyan appears, looking harried, and I swear to fucking God there’s guilt glittering in his eyes as he looks at me and he mutters something under his breath.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

“Erin, I haven’t had a second this morning, but⁠—”

Magda opens the door and leads in the blonde.

Her gaze barely touches me and her nose wrinkles at the sight of Sasha, who’s staring at the glamorous creature standing there.

He tugs on my shirt. “Mama? Is that a clown?”

Horror swamps me as Magda makes a sound like laughter. “Upstairs with you, Master Sasha,” she says, sweeping him up and promising him lots of Russian treats.

The woman, Stefina, moves past me and kisses Demyan on the cheek. He stands there, stiff, his face turning a ruddy shade and he pulls free. “I’ll see you in the living room.”

Olga appears to lead her in, followed by one of the security men, the type who carries, I presume, a concealed weapon.

But Stefina reappears, her gaze going to me. “My wedding planner will be here shortly. We have a perfect vision and a few places that will be incredible on social media shots. I have swatches for the wedding outfits. I intend to look like a vision. More than I do already.” She spins in her short skirt and runs a hand down his tie. “A good-looking man deserves a smoke show wife, so⁠—”

“Go wait, Stefina,” he says.

The moment she’s gone, I glare at him.

“Erin. I have to do this.”

“So you say. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got your son to take care of.” And I push past him, forcing myself to take the stairs slowly.

Magda doesn’t say much as we clean and dress Sasha. He’s not a fan of being cleaned up. It’s not fun like a bath is, but he’s such a good little boy that there’s only minimal fuss.

When a peal of laughter rolls up the stairs, Magda’s mouth sets. “Maybe we should take him to the park.”

I smile at her.

The staff are nice, accommodating, and it’s clear they dote on Sasha. But I don’t want to go to the park with an entourage.

She takes my hand a moment. “Miss Banks, he won’t let you go alone.”

“I’m that see-through.”

“In this matter, yes.” She touches my cheek as she ties one of Sasha’s shoes, then the other. “You’re expressive, but it’s not hard to read you with… her in the house.”

“He made his choice.”

She sighs and ruffles Sasha’s hair as she rises from the bed. “Demyan cares, and this is… business.” Magda shakes her head. “Why don’t you put on something nice and see a friend? The one I met. If it’s indoors and at one of his establishments, you’ll have a little more freedom. The babysitters will not be so obvious.”

I’m about to argue that it’s still being trapped and watched, but her words start to take root. I haven’t seen Kara in a while. So maybe I can arrange something with her later today.

“First, though, I promised Sasha some playtime in the back.”

“Still,” she says, “put something nice on. I’ll take him down.”

“No, I wanna stay with Mama!”

“Ah, my little Sasha,” she says, tickling him. “Mama is here and will join us, okay. She’s going to get ready.”

He juts out a lip. “Why?”

“To look pretty,” I say.

Now he frowns. “But you are pretty now, Mama.”

And my heart melts.

“I’ll be down there in two shakes of a goat’s tail.”

That cheers him up, and he grabs his goat and shakes its stubby tail, making us laugh. But he lets Magda take him with her as she bribes him with a treat. Honestly, that boy’s going to be so spoiled.

But as I hurry into the bedroom, my heart sinks.

I wouldn’t have slept with Demyan, let him touch me, if I’d known he was going through with this horrible marriage.

I know he says he’ll get out of it, but what if he can’t?

“Don’t think about it,” I say, spending time putting on a nice dress and adding a little makeup, which I hate. I send a text to Kara, then head down.

The door’s open to the living room and I peek in, but it’s like a mini torture ride doing that.

Swatches litter the place, and Stefina has a book open. In it are samples of wedding invitations. The cards, the finishes, the writing, the colors, and she’s talking about color coordinating everything, down to the flowers for the flower girls.

I hate her.

Irrational, maybe, as I don’t know her, but in that moment, I hate her.

She’s snapping damn selfies of herself as she talks.

The woman is fucking beautiful, but while her looks don’t help, that’s not why I don’t like her.

The little I’ve had to do with her—not that we’ve actually been introduced as I’m sure it’s hard to introduce your fiancée to your baby mama—she’s come across, like she is now, as vacuous, self-absorbed, and shallow. She’s interested in one person—herself.

Oh, she likes Demyan for his money and looks, but she could swap him with someone else and be planning that wedding with the same level of devotion.

I stand to the side, listening. She sounds bored he sounds…

Like Demyan.

But a Demyan, I don’t know. He can be hard to read at times, anyway, but now? He could be a stranger and one who does nothing but mirror back.

And this beautiful creature with him? She’s the epitome of every girl I avoided in high school and probably as cruel.

The girl who gets everything and everyone.

Like now.

There’s no comparison between the two of us. None at all. Next to her I’m dust. A mouse.

“And one who’s feeling sorry for herself.”

I straighten up. Magda’s right. I shouldn’t sit around here while they plan their, quite frankly, repulsive-sounding and tacky wedding.

Pulling out my phone, I move to the kitchen to where Olga and Magda are just outside with Sasha, who’s on his new swing set. His little face lights up as he sees me.

“Watch me, Mama!”

I grin, push open the door, and step out. I call Kara.

“Girl, this better be a full-ass, five-star apology.”

“Something like that,” I say. I bite my lip. “I’ve been a bad friend, I know. So much has been happening but… do you want to meet me and Sasha for lunch?”

“My favorite godson? You bet!”

We arrange a place and I wave Magda over. “I’m going out.”

“Da.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I will arrange a car.”

As much as I want to just go, Demyan would kill me. That’s if he noticed. But that isn’t fair. He’d notice. He notices everything around here. And I’d be in trouble.

That isn’t fair either. But I get my bag, put on lipstick, and knock on the door to the living room.

Stefina huffs out irritation, and Demyan frowns, coming to the door. “Is something wrong?”

I flicker a glance past him. “There’s definitely something wrong, but not in the way you mean. I’m going out.”

“No—”

“Don’t tell me no, or I’ll cause a scene.”

He blinks twice. I don’t say things like that, I never do. But I’m on the edge of a precipice. The man doesn’t want that scene and he’s confident I’m not going to do a runner. And even if I wanted to, he’ll have enough eyes on me to stop that happening.

Imagine if he knew I was knocked up.

A shiver rides down my spine. I still haven’t told him and right now I don’t want to, so I leave it at that.

“Lyubimaya,” he says, “Erin, you need to rest⁠—”

“I can’t rest while this is going on. You do you, Demyan. I’ll see you when I get back.”

His eyes narrow. “Erin…”

“Go back to what’s obviously important to you. Now, I’ve one of your cars waiting. I’ll see you when I see you.”

I turn on my heel and stomp off to the foyer, where a bouncy Sasha is waiting with Olga. There’ll be hell to pay later. But right now, I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel.

Except that hurt.

Kara hugs me tight. “I’m so mad at you. Lucky you bribed me with Sasha.”

We’re near a park and Sasha’s clinging, but Kara holds great appeal to him. She’s one of his favorite people.

“It’s a nice day. We can go to this fancy place,” I say, nodding toward the cozy Italian restaurant that Magda suggested, “or we can get something to go take Sasha to the park.”

Kara starts laughing and Sasha stares up at her and laughs, too. “This little monster in a fancy place?”

“He’s a well-behaved little monster.”

“That place looks stuffy.” She scoops Sasha up. “Wanna get French fries, a juice, and go to the park?”

His eyes get big and he basically smacks her in the face in a loving gesture. “Yes! I love you, Kara.”

“And I love you, Sasha.”

Then he reaches for me. I take him and she raises a brow.

We get coffee, juice, and some takeout from a hole-in-the-wall café across from the park.

Sasha holds a juice and a chocolate chip cookie as we go to the park, his gaze heading to the food truck at the park’s edge.

There aren’t many kids out today, but Sasha’s happy to sit down at our feet, pulling out some of his toy cars and trucks as he eats his cookie.

I fill her in on everything that’s happened and Kara smacks a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Erin. No wonder you have three gorillas watching you.”

There are probably more and while I know if we were in the restaurant we’d have more of a feeling of privacy, they’re not too close. Demyan’s men are more interested in clocking and eliminating any threat that might come for us over listening in.

I sip my coffee as Kara fills me in on her life. Her latest disastrous date, how she got a promotion, but it isn’t the same now that we’re no longer planning our own business.

“We’ll return to it,” I say. “In time.”

She sighs. “Really?”

“Really.”

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there. I feel it, and it’s not some dude kidnapping you, which sounds horrifying, by the way.” But she ruffles Sasha’s hair as he comes in to press against us both, like he’s checking we’re still there. “And he rescued you. Which is… romantic.”

“I’m the mother of his child.”

“Come on.” Kara looks me up and down. “There’s more to it than that. I feel it.”

“Who are you, Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Woman, thank you.” But her laughter fades. “What’s up?”

I fill her in on Stefina. She sucks in a sharp breath. “Ooh boy, Erin. You sure like complicated.”

“But I don’t. I hate it, and I want to hate him and… am I mad for standing by Demyan when he’s promised himself to another woman?”

“Only you can answer that. But…” She pauses, sips her coffee as Sasha climbs up onto the bench, chocolate smeared on his face and he puts his feet on Kara and his head on my knee. She rubs his calves. “But from what you said, it sounds like he only agreed to this marriage in order to save you. And you said he’s trying to find a way out of it.”

“Yes, but…” I look at her. “It still hurts.”

“I can see that, and I’m not gonna lie. I’d be hurt, too. But he did it to save you. That’s got to count for something. Maybe give him a chance to prove himself. If he said he’s going along with it but trying to get out of it, see how that plays out. It sounds like it needs to be handled carefully.”

“Yeah. But…”

“You don’t have to like it,” she says. “Just give him space to see.”

Suddenly, Sasha pops his head up. “French fries?”

“French fries it is.” Kara picks him up. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

Maybe she’s right; maybe I just need to trust Demyan’s got a plan. I don’t have to have sex with him through this. I don’t think there are rules. But he saved me and it’s clear he’s not a fan of Stefina. So… a chance.

Kara has to head back to work after the fries we all share. I know I should go back, but I can’t, not yet. First, I want to see Ilya.

When we get to the hospital, my heart plummets. He’s still unconscious and in a stable but critical condition.

I’m not sure in normal circumstances we’d be allowed to see him, but Demyan’s name has clout and Sasha and I are led into the private room where Ilya’s hooked up to a whole bunch of machines.

“Mama? What’s wrong with him?”

“Uncle Ilya was hurt by some bad men.”

His eyes are round and his chin quivers. “Will he be okay?”

“I hope so.” I hug him tight as I will Ilya to open his eyes.

I go to him and hold his hand.

“Demyan got me back,” I tell him, voice scratchy as Sasha climbs on the chair next to the bed to be closer to Ilya. “Don’t touch, baby.”

He looks at me, nods, and then looks at Ilya.

“Uncle Ilya…” And his chin quivers. I hold him against me, my free arm around him.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “I feel terrible. This is all my fault. If I’d listened to you, then you wouldn’t be here.”

“No, Mama. Not your fault.” Sasha’s small voice makes me smile. I glance at my son, his worried little face, and I know he wants to touch. But he doesn’t. “Uncle Ils get better. Mama will bring you soup.”

Sasha babbles at him, telling the unconscious man a story that’s so outrageous it breaks my heart. When he’s done, I say, “Demyan got him back, Ilya. And me. So you come back to us.”

The nurse appears and I know it’s time to go, but I promise we’ll be back. In the hall, I turn to Sasha. “Don’t you worry,” I say. “He’s strong.”

He nods vigorously and I start to lead him down the hall, the smell of antiseptic stinging my nose. I’m thinking maybe we could have lunch somewhere so Sasha can cheer up a little when my phone rings.

“Demyan.”

“Where are you?”

“You know exactly where I am. Your drivers are the ones ferrying me around, and your goons are watching me.”

“I trust you; they’re just protection.”

I didn’t say a word to him about trust, but I just say, “I can look after myself. Next time, I want a car I can use. And I don’t want your entourage. I’m not your wife. I’m not anything but the mother of your son, so since you eliminated the threat, I can⁠—”

“I’m coming to collect you and Sasha. Myself. Stay there.”

“You have a whole army with me.”

“Maybe I want to see Ilya, and maybe I want to watch you myself. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Watch?” I shake my head. “That’s not a relationship. Am I your prisoner?”

He doesn’t answer that. “You’re my woman, Erin. Mine. I want you safe. Niko might be dead, but that doesn’t mean the danger is gone.”

Demyan hangs up and I shiver.

What the hell does he mean by that?

Chapter Eight

DEMYAN

“Hey,” I say, walking into the hospital room, my stomach sinking. “How’s he doing?”

For a moment, I don’t think she’s going to answer. Sasha’s curled up on her lap and she’s holding Ilya’s hand.

She doesn’t turn.

“I’m not sure why you ordered me to stay here.”

“Ordered?”

Erin doesn’t respond to that.

“We were on our way to lunch when you called. Your men are here. They’ve been with me since we left the mansion. Driving me and Sasha. I’m perfectly safe and not running, so this is overkill. Besides, it’s not like I need you to tear yourself away from your very important plans. You’re going to know where I am.”

I ignore the dig and the fact her loaded words hit like tiny bombs.

“You’re better close to me.”

“Yes, I’m better being made to stay in the place where I was taken.”

I frown as I step in and walk to the other side of the bed. I don’t know what all the damn beeping machines are, but I look at my friend. He looks like he has more color. But when I asked, all they told me was stable but critical, whatever that means.

Not dead.

That’s what it means.

Still breathing.

A fighting chance.

I swallow. “How is he?”

Erin shrugs, and Sasha looks up. “Uncle Ils is sick, Dane.”

Shit. Dane. Dino, both names give me a little thrill and it hurts to see the worry on his little face. And on hers.

“Well, he’s clearly not conscious. But,” she says, “the doctors say there’s brain activity in all the right places—I’m paraphrasing—and that he should wake up, but they have no idea when. He was in a medically induced coma but now… he’ll wake when he’s ready.”

I cock my head. “How did you get that much info out of the doctors? They barely tell me a fucking thing. They’re scared of me, but I’m not family and there are rules. So…”

She blushes and smooths back Sasha’s hair. And he snuggles in against his mom. “I told them I was his sister. Easy enough as they know I came in with both of you, but he’s the one who stuck around. Like family.”

I could take her words two ways, the family thing as a dig for me not sticking around, or just surface value.

The latter is the one I choose. And I chuckle. “I like it when you’re devious.”

She offers me a slanted look and a frown. “I’m not the devious one, Demyan.”

Okay, so she’s still pissed off about the whole wedding thing, as in deeply to the bone pissed off.

I thought it might just be surface, something she wasn’t sure how to handle, something she knew, once she got her head around it, that I would.

Then again, her dig earlier should have told me how deep her anger might go.

Fuck everything.

But I keep my face unemotional. “The hospital will inform us when Ilya wakes.” I scoop up Sasha.

“No. I want Mama.”

He’s had his damn mother all fucking night and day. I’ll carry him to the car. Besides, this is the fucking hospital that Niko’s thugs broke into. I’ve got it secure. Added my own security all over the place and getting in is beyond difficult. Deliveries are left with security. All visitors double- and sometimes triple-checked and vetted.

But no one’s after Ilya. It’s Erin and my son I worry about, so if someone gets in, I’m holding my son and she can stay right by my side.

“Get your things,” I say to Erin, ignoring the two-year-old’s protests. He’s two. She’s here. He isn’t getting his way in everything. And it’s just until we get to the car. He writhes, but I tighten my hold on him so he doesn’t get free and fall.

“I’m going to take Sasha to lunch.”

My schedule is backed up today and this is making it worse, but I need to show her I care. I need… I need to make sure she’s okay.

“So we’ll all go.”

Her jaw sets. “Alone.”

“Get your things,” I say. “We’re going home.”

“If I can’t go to lunch, then I’ll stay here.”

“No—”

“I’m quite happy to stay with Ilya,” she says stiffly as I move Sasha to one hip.

“He’s unconscious, so he’ll be here when we come in for a visit tomorrow.”

“This is my fault.”

I frown. “What is?”

Her gaze flickers to me. “Ilya getting shot. Ilya here. I’m the reason for all of this.”

“Erin. Lyubimaya.” I take her hand. “You’re not responsible. At all. They were coming for you and he was going to get in front of a bullet to protect you. The only difference with you trying to sneak off is he got shot in the stairwell rather than your room. You got that?”

“Demyan, I…”

She sighs.

Then she gets up and follows me out of the hospital room.

“Mama.” I hand Sasha to her when we reached the car and the kid just snuggled right in as though he’d just been kept from her for months.

She straps him into his car seat and hands him the mangy goat which he cuddles. His eyes close and she kisses his cheek, climbing in next to him.

I wanted to put him in my personal car, but instead, I have Pavel drive that back and I climb into the SUV opposite her, looking at my son because I need to calm the wild thoughts in my head.

I need to settle the savage need to order her to bend to my will. It’s like Sasha, I guess. Patience, love, and all the things I’m not gifted in. That’s what I need to find in me to win her over.

A small child is easy, and his understanding of the world isn’t in nuance. Black-and-white. Right and wrong. Love and hate. Trust and fear. And to him, Mama is safety and love and home. I’m getting that way because I don’t hurt him, I feed him, and I saved him and brought his mama back to him.

Yes, I kept her from him at the beginning, but that’s something I learned doesn’t work. He loves her in a way that can’t be broken.

This, him asleep, happy, knowing he’s safe on an intrinsic level, is because she’s with him.

But Erin and me? If it was sex and attraction, if it was searing hot passion, that’s something I can do. We have that chemistry. She wants more. And… And I’m not good at the more.

I guess I can try.

“It’s sweet.”

“What is?” she asks.

“How Sasha wants to be around you so much.”

She shrugs. “I’m all he had for so long, and he just had a big scare.”

“No,” I say. “It’s more than that. Your bond with him is amazing. He loves you with every fiber of his being.”

Erin smiles at me, and it’s genuine. It’s guarded, but real. “Demyan if… if you don’t think he cares for you, you’re wrong. He loves you just as much. And the more time you spend with him, the deeper the connection with Sasha will become.”

I release a shaky breath. “I hope so.” I run a hand over my face and lean forward. “I love him.”

“Anyone can see that. Your love for him isn’t the problem.”

“Fuck, Erin, I just feel so guilty about missing so much of his life. Even though I’m not to blame.”

She isn’t, either. I don’t think. Or maybe she is. She could have tried harder, ignored the warnings of her brother and let me know. What would she have done if I’d given her my real name or left that at the front desk? Would she have— But what’s done is done and dwelling on it isn’t going to change it now.

Erin’s hands curl in her lap and something dark passes in her eyes. “He loves you. He’s a very loving little boy and you’re making such an impact in his life. I-I can’t undo the past. I just wonder what future there is for us to look to, Demyan.”

“He’s my son.” The words rip from me.

She shakes her head. “And you’ll be part of his life. I meant us.”

“There’s an us.”

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. Stefina’s name flashes. I go to shut it off as a text pops up and Erin reaches for the phone.

“I want to see what the other member of the us team has to say,” she says sarcastically. “You know. Your future wife.”

She takes the phone and as much as I want to stop her, that’d be worse. She looks at the text on the screen.

“Can’t wait ’til this wedding is official.” Her gaze flicks to me. “That’s your vacuous bride, not me.” She goes on. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the wedding night, Demyan. I’ve heard the rumors of your talents in bed and how you know your way around a woman’s body…”

Erin thrusts the phone back at me. “Dot, dot, dot. Nice little lead-in, isn’t it? Are you looking forward to it, too?”

Fuck. I shove the offending phone in my pocket.

“Erin, there’s not going to be a wedding night.”

“Maybe you can give her a freebie.”

“Enough,” I snap. “There won’t be anything at all, no sex, no wedding night, no wedding. At least with me and Stefina.”

But she looks at our son and touches his chubby little cheek, then she just nods and looks out the window.

“Erin?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Don’t be childish, Erin.”

She continues to gaze out the window as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s seen.

“Erin, you’re going to have to get over this and talk to me.”

But she just doesn’t respond.

Frustration burns hot in my veins and it chokes in my throat. When we go through the security at the gates, even though it’s me, they now check, she still doesn’t look at me. And when we pull up, she unstraps Sasha, gathers him and his stuffed toy, and stomps into the mansion.

Shit. I start up the stairs after her when Magda appears and puts her hand on my arm. “Mr. Demyan, if you want her, leave her be for now. Alina is up there.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

She pulls herself up to her short height. “You didn’t see her face. If you want her, you listen to me and Miss Alina.”

I want to break things. Luckily, the meeting I’ve got is to do with a late payment, so maybe I can take out my frustrations there.

Without a word, I motion at my men and spin on my heel, heading out. At the door, I pause. I look at the guard there. “She is not to leave or this is your last day on earth. Got it.”

The man nods. “Yes, sir.”

I stay out later than I plan, drinks with allies, listening to talk, and laying plans and the beginnings of deals.

None of it’s an answer to the biggest issue I face. Marrying Stefina.

Sure, take out Sergio and that problem goes away, but a million others pop up. I’ll be untrustworthy, and that’s not what I want. Not what I can afford.

There’s taking out an enemy or someone in your way and then there’s killing the man to get out of a deal I made.

It’s worse than untrustworthy in the broader scheme. It means my word is nothing.

I need another way.

That means I may have to take the man out, a risky move as far as I can see. Just because I don’t trust him, the fact is I slid out of this once and went to him for help. Manipulated into that or not, he helped.

If I back out, kill him, or worse Stefina, I upset not just the ecosystem in place but I hurt myself and my operations.

There’s a way, I just haven’t thought of it.

I go upstairs when I get home and strip off my jacket and tie.

The bedroom’s not only untouched, it feels empty, like Erin hasn’t even stepped foot inside here.

I didn’t hear any voices downstairs, nor my son. But it’s adult dinnertime. He should be fed and getting ready for bed. I leave my room and go to his. The door opens and Alina steps out, glaring at me, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Out of my way, Angel.”

“No.”

I frown. “That’s my son in there, and⁠—”

“You’re not bugging Erin.” She grabs my arm and tucks her hand around it. “We can go have dinner, or⁠—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then you can watch me eat or we can have a drink, but you’re not upsetting her. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

I let Alina drag me down to my study, where she pours me a drink, choosing whiskey over vodka, and she pours one for herself, too.

Like magic, Olga appears with a platter of black bread, cheeses, and cold cuts, which she picks up. It tells me she was watching for me and decided to run interference.

“Ganging up on me?”

She puts her glass down. “My idea, not Erin’s. She’s been through enough. And this marriage is too much for her to understand right now.”

“I don’t want to marry that ridiculous woman.”

She sighs, slicing off some cheese to put on a thin slice of bread. “We know how the mafia works. All the deals and the scheming and the way you have to take hits to get things done. Erin doesn’t. All she knows is what’s happened to her. And to Sasha. I get it. To save her, you made a deal. But it’s a lot.”

“Fuck.” I down my drink and pour another. “I’m going to find a way out of this. Somehow.”

Alina looks down. “I found out the hard way this life doesn’t let you go. Max wasn’t part of it but got killed, and Sasha got used as a pawn. Erin, too. She’ll come around. Show her how you feel and be patient.”

She stands and comes over to where I’m sprawled on the sofa, then she kisses my cheek. “Eat.”

When she’s gone, I just drink. I’m not fucking hungry.

Ilya will know what to do. I pull out of my phone, then throw it. Ilya can’t answer the fucking phone because he’s in the hospital. In critical condition.

How the hell did all this get so messed up?

I push my hand through my hair and down another drink. I need to fix this. And soon. Before I lose my mind.

Or worse.

Before I lose everything.

Chapter Nine

ERIN

I’m beyond bored. Sasha is here, so he saves me, as does Alina. But I can’t rely on them to entertain me or keep me occupied. There are books, a computer, but without something to actually do, I think I’m going crazy.

In the past few days, Alina and I went to the shops to get a present for Max’s mom’s birthday. It wasn’t anything like a spree, more she went to buy the gift Max had picked out. She wasn’t sure if she should, but I said if it was me, I’d appreciate it. She’s his mother’s last real link to her son. The gift? Letting his mom know Max had thought of it would mean everything. And that when Alina wanted, we’d go around to see her. I’d bring Sasha. But only when Alina was ready.

Other than that, I managed a checkup with me and with Sasha but that’s it.

Demyan has me under house arrest.

He wouldn’t call it that.

He’s just said he prefers if I stay home where Sasha and I will be safe.

Demyan speaks for house arrest.

On the fifth day, I’m ready to gnaw a leg off, and as I feed Sasha his non cereal breakfast—he’s had more than enough sugar in the past few weeks—I steel myself as Demyan walks in.

I may be furious at the man, but he’s insanely hot in his three-piece suit, dark hair swept back, his handsome face thoughtful as he makes himself a coffee.

He kisses Sasha and hands him a small bowl of berries and yogurt, which Sasha immediately goes to town on.

Then Demyan looks at me. “Maybe you should go out today.”

That gets my attention. Not that he doesn’t already have it. But I go still. Out? “You’re letting me off the leash?”

“It’s not a leash.” He sips his coffee as he leans against the kitchen island as Sasha smashes a blueberry into the table with extreme prejudice. “Just thought you’d like to go out. Maybe catch up with that friend of yours. What’s her name? Katie?”

“Kara.” I blink, take in a breath. “I think that would be—” I stop.

And narrow my eyes.

“You want me to go out?”

“I have people to accompany you.”

“Even with that, you don’t like it. You got mad when I went to the jewelers with your sister. And took Sasha for a checkup and now…”

He hasn’t stopped reminding me I’m still in danger.

His gaze is calm and unreadable.

“Why are you…” I trail off. And it slams into me like a brick. “Stefina.”

Demyan doesn’t deny it.

“I thought you’d like to stretch your wings.” That’s it. That’s all he says.

“Don’t. I’m not an idiot, Demyan.”

He sighs. “Fine. She’s coming over and I didn’t think you’d want to be here.”

I don’t know why it hurts more but it does.

“Why? She’s been here before and you haven’t kicked me out in the past few days, so there must be something.” I narrow my eyes again. “What else, Demyan?”

“She’s bringing her chosen celebrant. Something about vows and running through it all. I don’t fucking know why she wants me to meet this asshole.”

“That’s just great.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be around,” he says. “The wedding isn’t happening, but it stresses you so⁠—”

“You thought you’d shove me out the door, tell yourself I’m some kind of hysterical woman, and lessen your guilt. Because I imagine it’s a lot harder to plan your wedding and have the person presiding over said wedding with your son and his mother in the same mansion.” I press my lips together. “Because what if I wandered by? Or Sasha came in? I’d hate to ruin it.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you or Sasha ruining anything.”

“You just want to get rid of us,” I spit. “That’s all.”

“No, I’m trying to make this easier on you.” His fingers tighten on the cup.

“On yourself.”

He takes another sip of coffee. “Go out, forget everything for a while. This will be over when it’s over, and then we can marry. It’s complicated, but you have to trust me.”

“That ship might have sailed,” I snap.

“I know you’re upset, Erin, which is why I thought you’d prefer to be out of here.”

He’s like a stuck record and I’m the idiot who keeps hoping it’ll play the album through.

Part of me wants to throw the wrench in his works and stay. Maybe sit in the room with Sasha on my knee. But I think of Stefina. I don’t want to subject my son to her. Or myself.

My stomach lurches. The woman who just might be Sasha’s stepmother. I push a hand against my throat as burning bile surges up my throat.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” he says. His eyes drill into me. “This is me going along with bullshit until I find a way out. That’s it. I’m not marrying her. I’m marrying you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

My words sting in the air, and neither one of us speaks for the longest time. Then he drains his cup.

“No entourage. Just take a guard and a driver, okay, so I know you’re safe.”

“No.”

“Erin, please. I love you. I want you safe.”

“You’re ignoring what I just said.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m merely taking into consideration the fact you’re hurt and lashing out. I don’t want this woman even stepping foot in here and believe me, whatever her text said, she wants me about as much as I want her. Which is not at all.”

She wants him, I know it.

And Demyan?

I want to hate him, I do. Right now. I don’t like him, but I still love him and… shit. I don’t want to be here while Stefina makes googly eyes at him and swans, around taking endless selfies.

Anything is better.

“You know what? I’ll go. Sasha and I had such a great time last time without you.”

He gives me a pained look. “Not fair, Erin.”

“Not fair? None of this is fair. You want me gone so you don’t feel as guilty.”

“Bullshit. I’m trying to make it easier for you. Go have fun, forget about everything for a while. Like I just said. Rehashing the conversation isn’t going to change it.”

“Fine.” I turn, wipe down Sasha, and pick him up, taking him upstairs to get ready.

At the very least Sasha, deserves some time away from here.

With that in mind, I call Kara.

Sasha and I are heading out when we pass the living room.

Alina is sitting on the sofa, alone, staring at a magazine on her lap.

Sasha pulls free and runs up to her. “Don’t be sad,” he says, making her smile.

I follow him in.

He’s right she looks sad, but not as destroyed as I’ve sometimes seen her before. And I get it there are ups and downs—days where she can’t get out of bed and days where life seems almost back to normal.

Except that Max is missing.

I’m okay, Sasha. Run along with your mama.”

“We’re heading out,” I begin.

She shakes her head. “I know. I don’t like her either. But…” She glances at Sasha and then at me. “He’s working on it.”

But I don’t want to talk about it, not in front of Sasha and not with Demyan’s sister.

“Come with us, Alina.”

She takes a breath. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.”

“We’re going to the park to play.” Sasha beams. “With Kara! And Mama and you!”

Alina hesitates, then shakes her head, laughing. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t,” I say. “He’s very convincing.”

She picks him up and hugs him. “You’re too cute, Sasha.”

“I know.”

And we both laugh, Sasha joining in a few seconds later, not knowing why, but for him, merriment is merriment, and his laughter is beautiful music.

Alina hands me Sasha. “I’ll go change.”

“Why? You look great.” And she does. She’s got on designer jeans and a pretty top in dark blue that matches her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure. I’m in jeans, too. But we can wait for you in the car if you want to change.”

“I’m good.”

We all head out, and Alina insists on buying Sasha an ice cream, which I have to spend time cleaning off his face, shirt, and sticky fingers, but it’s worth it for the smile he brings to her face.

Sasha loves the park and zooms around, his goat flying behind him by one leg as they run.

He plays with some other kids under the watchful eye of me and Alina and the guard. And who knows how many other guards I can’t pick out.

It makes my heart swell to see my son having such a good time. And as I now hold his goat, I’m excited about the baby growing inside me.

Sasha’s growing up, I can see that. And I’m glad his firsts won’t be my lasts.

Then it hits me.

All the firsts Demyan missed. Because of me.

Sasha’s first smile, first word, first step. First everything.

My fault.

No wonder he was so angry.

And now… Hell, is he going to be happy or angry about the pregnancy? Angry because this baby complicates things on another level. If he has to marry this other woman, as much as it makes me want to throw up, excusing away Sasha is one thing; me being knocked up is another.

Then there’s that basic level of where we are. He says he wants me and not this Stefina. The beautiful Stefina. I can’t compete with someone so glamorous and gorgeous. I can’t. What if he wants to get rid of me from his life? Another baby will make that hard.

Demyan takes duty seriously.

I don’t want to be a duty.

“Are you okay?”

I glance at Alina. “Fine, just thinking. He’s growing up.”

“He’s two. He’s got a lot more growing to do, Mama.” Then she takes the goat and hugs it. “You know, Demyan didn’t get the goat. I don’t think there was a lot of love in his life, even before our father remarried and I came along. So something like the goat he sees as old and run down, not loved. Not something given in love. But he will.”

“I hope so.”

If he married this gorgeous Stefina and she deigns to give him babies, I hope… I swallow, clench a hand. I hope he’ll share himself like he does with Sasha.

What am I thinking? Demyan would and I start to dislike that mythical child. I’m a terrible person.

Alina touches my arm. “It’ll be okay, you know? And I think I have the best nephew ever.”

“Oh, he is,” says a voice behind us.

I turn and grin. Kara’s there.

“Kara!” Sasha speeds over and throws himself at her.

“Hi, monster.” She goes to kiss him but he rushes off again, too many things to do and he joins the other kids once more. “Took the afternoon off. Hi, Alina.”

With a jolt of shock, I realize I’d forgotten they’d met at the penthouse that time.

“I hope you don’t mind I’m here.” Alina bites her lip, tucking her feet under the bench.

Kara scooches me over. “Nonsense. We cool ladies need to stick together. One day, I wouldn’t mind a Sasha. One day, in the vast and distant future.” Then she stops and looks at Alina. “There’s always time. I guess I have to find a man.”

I elbow her and she gasps.

“I’m sorry, did you and Max…?”

“Want kids? Yeah. And now I wonder if I’ll ever have them. Max was my soulmate. The children I pictured were his. My life I pictured, the life I knew was going to be mine, was with him. And now…” She swallows. “Now I don’t think there’ll ever be someone else.”

Sasha goes down the small slide, looking proud like he just went hang gliding.

And I can see Alina and Max’s kid under an older Sasha’s wing, and it breaks my heart.

Kara never shies away from putting her foot in it, not that she really did, but she just pats Alina’s knee. “Maybe there’s another soulmate. Or someone good. Down the line.”

“Getting over Max is going to take time. I miss him, so much so I can’t imagine how you’re doing it.”

“Like a queen,” says Kara. “You’re strong. But we’re here for you. I don’t really know you, but girl, I’m here. And Erin’s right, it’s going to take time, but one day you’ll have the strength to move on. Eventually.”

I lean around Kara and squeeze Alina’s hand. “You have a big heart, and Max was lucky. He’s in there; no one or nothing can take that. Even someone new.”

“And we’re talking way down the line.” But then Kara puts her hand on top of mine and squeezes both mine and Alina’s. “Or maybe it’s around the corner. You’ll be ready when you’re ready. There’s no right or wrong.”

“I couldn’t. I can’t replace them.”

“Then,” I say, “the time is wrong.”

Kara lets Alina talk and we listen, and I just wish I could do more to help my new friend.

The day’s a whirlwind. We end up going to Kara’s and letting Sasha nap. There are always Sasha clothes here, so I bathe and change him before his nap, and then Kara makes drinks ,but I give my head a small shake when she offers me one.

Her look’s pure questions unasked, ones I’ll be facing. But all she does is make me a virgin margarita.

And when it’s nearing early evening, we pick a restaurant near Kara and head there. At this hour, it’s fairly empty and they’re happy to accommodate Sasha and even offer to rustle up a kid menu, but I just order him macaroni with ragu, something he likes, as I know from experience he doesn’t like super fancy mac and cheese.

Kara and Alina share a bottle of wine, but I beg off just saying I’m not in the mood. We’re kept entertained by Sasha, and then Kara takes over when he gets her phone so he can watch cartoons, and she makes us laugh with the last string of disastrous dates she went on.

Finally, she kicks me under the table.

“Ow.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

Kara rolls her eyes. “She thinks she’s a comedian,” she says to Alina. “Did you sort things with her brother?”

“Demyan’s her brother,” I say pointedly, smiling at Alina to show I don’t mean anything by it.

But Alina just takes a sip of her wine. “I understand Demyan and why he’s doing this. But I think he’s an idiot for getting into this situation in the first place. He’ll find a way out of it. Ugh, that Stefina.”

I look at them both and take a breath. “Logically, I can see he did something to save me, but emotionally, it’s like betrayal. Maybe I deserve it, keeping Sasha from him.”

“Nonsense,” says Kara, filling her glass and topping Alina’s. “You did what you thought you had to do. And let’s face it, if your brother wasn’t a PI, you wouldn’t have known how to find him. He’s a powerful Russian dude with a lot of machismo. And if you ask me, I bet he knows he should have left his name.”

Alina doesn’t say a thing, and I try to stop Kara with my expression, but she’s not paying attention.

“Then again, he didn’t know you’d get knocked up, either. So… no one’s fault but fates.”

“That doesn’t help me not feel like a third wheel. You should see her. She’s gorgeous. Like seriously beautiful.”

“And you’re what? Dirt?”

“I’m not that.”

“Thank goodness,” says Alina. She looks at us both. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’ve seen some of the women he’s slept with. None of them are like you. They’re accessories and glamorous, yes, because that’s easier than what’s real. But the one thing he hasn’t ever gone for is a vacuous, self-involved person like Stefina. And I’ve seen her around. She doesn’t go for complicated like Demyan. This is her father and she’s going along with it. She wants a big, splashy wedding, so she’ll go for that, too. But this isn’t about Demyan for her. And she’s not his type. You are.”

“See?” Kara crosses her arms and Sasha giggles at something on the phone.

I look at my plate. I know I haven’t eaten as much as I should, but I’m not hungry. I push it away.

“I don’t feel like his type. I don’t feel as beautiful and self-absorbed as she is; she’s bombshell material. I’m not. I’m going⁠—”

I stop.

“I’m going mad, I think. I’m jealous. I’m upset, I love him, I don’t like him, I want him to do the irrational and kick her to the curb.”

What I was going to say was I’m going to be huge soon enough, but I can’t mention the baby, and as fabulous as Alina is, she’s still Demyan’s sister at the end of the day. I’m not ready for him to know yet.

And there’s one more thing.

Alina put a good face on it, but I heard her pain, that ragged, raw edge in her voice, about the loss of babies she won’t have with Max. And me being pregnant? I don’t know how she’ll react. I don’t want to tailspin her into more grief.

“Demyan has to be careful with this. Very careful,” Alina says. “But I think I’d be angry, too.”

Demyan, demon of the hour, isn’t home when we get back. I don’t know where he is. I can smell the expensive perfume of that damn Stefina lingering in the living room and I go upstairs and tuck Sasha into bed.

Whatever was said with us at the restaurant doesn’t matter. All I can think of is him with Stefina. Him with another beauty.

I get ready for bed and slide in, willing sleep. Willing myself not to listen for him to come home.

But I’m awake when he stumbles in, drunk, and he strips and climbs in next to me. The heat of him warming me, his lips on my skin making me ache, making me wet, and when he touches my thighs…

“Don’t, Demyan,” I whisper.

He turns to me and kisses me. He tastes like darkness and vodka. And regrets.

“It’s ‘yes, Demyan,’ Erin.”

“No.”

He stops. “We make love, we can heal.”

“Sex isn’t a cure, Demyan,” I say, my voice strangled. “I’m not ready. I need to process things, a number of things, and you need to respect that.”

I get out of bed.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

I’m sure he thinks I got up because I don’t trust him.

But that’s not why.

I don’t trust myself not to give in to him.

“I’m going to sleep with Sasha.”

“Like fuck you are. We’re together. You sleep in this bed. I won’t try to fuck you, but get into bed.”

But I turn and walk out, going into Sasha’s room and sliding in next to my little boy.

He won’t dare come in and start anything; he won’t risk waking his son. No matter how pissed off he is.

Chapter Ten

DEMYAN

I groan as the doorbell rings.

Fucking Stefina, at nine a.m. sharp. Olga pokes her head into my study, and I lean back in my chair, answering the unasked question.

“Put her in the formal sitting room and tell her to stay.”

If she’s surprised, then she doesn’t show it. I keep that room for either very important guests I don’t trust, or… well, people I don’t trust or like and want to be made as uncomfortable as possible without having anything to complain about. It’s opulent, feels important, and is so damn uncomfortable it feels like a prison cell.

I never use it. But that’s one thing my bastard of a father taught me. To intimidate and throw off people in unexpected ways.

“Oh, and Olga?”

“Yes, sir?”

I smile. “Don’t offer her anything and make sure she understands staying. Right now, I’m busy, but will be with her when I can.”

“Yes, Mr. Demyan.”

I take my time with my work, going over the shipments that are due and the ones that sit in various warehouses, ready to be moved and distributed.

Pavel knocks on my door to discuss some details of the acquisition of some clubs I want. A perfect meld of legal and illegal. And situated on the cusp of some of Niko’s territories.

“Primed and ready for takeover when the time’s right,” I say. I run my gaze down the asking prices for the properties. “Good price.”

Anyone else would take credit for this, but Pavel understands his place and how things work. He understands trust and the importance of loyalty.

“All of that’s Ilya’s doing,” he says, taking the seat I offer him. “I just made sure it all went through. How is he?”

“Getting there,” I mutter. I called the hospital earlier. He’s no longer in a medically induced coma, is the phrase, but he’s not awake. At least, not awake like he should be.

I can’t help but shake the feeling it’s my fault. All of it. But I can’t let myself go there. Not until we move from this… stasis. Not until the Stefina thing is put to fucking bed.

“She’s pretty,” Pavel says, eyes on me. “But at the risk of offending your decisions, she’s not exactly you.”

I narrow my eyes at him and the change in conversation. “Elaborate.”

“The overdressed female waiting for you.”

“My fiancée?”

His mouth lifts slightly. But his gaze is hawklike, and he’s seeing how far he can push with his opinions.

I shift tactics. “Or Erin?”

“Erin? Ms. Banks is great. And Sasha’s a delight. At the risk of you shooting me in the face, and knowing you clearly made some kind of deal, I don’t like Sergio’s daughter. It’s like letting a viper into your nest.”

I consider his words. “She’s not her father.”

“But he raised her.”

This is why Ilya likes him. Pavel’s made of the same ilk. “Right now, I’m planning a wedding that I’ve no idea how to get out of cleanly. This is between us.”

“I would never have thought differently.”

“If anything comes to you, if you hear anything about Sergio or her, then let me know.”

“Of course, sir.” He starts to rise. “I could see if I can find her someone else.”

“Maybe. But this isn’t about love or want. It’s power and control. Even if there was someone else, her father wouldn’t allow it.” And, I suspect, Stefina thinks my life’s different to what it is.

Not sure why as I attend as few events as possible, and those I do? I’m doing deals or have other agendas.

The business is my life. Controlling and growing my power base is my blood.

Until the pretty, blonde Erin came back into my life, with my son.

Now they take up a great deal of that life, own a huge amount of that blood.

“I need to find a way out. Dirt… something to make this agreement null and void.” I stand and approach him.

“Got it, Boss. I’ll poke around discreetly. My side project, okay?” Then he pauses. “Until Ilya’s on his feet again.”

Oh, that would be a gift. “When that happens, you’ll be working it together. If we haven’t resolved it by then.”

As he leaves, I replay the conversation. The comment about how pretty she is sticks.

Fuck, was Pavel thinking of offering himself as tribute or sacrifice to marry her?

I’ve got a feeling it crossed his mind and that’s where the difference is between him and Ilya. Ilya never would have done that because he knows it would lead to giving an in to Sergio.

Besides, Stefina wouldn’t do that.

Though the look of relief on his face when I told him I nixed the finding someone else had been borderline comical and I almost reach for the phone to tell Ilya.

Who can’t pick up.

The thought sobers me, and I check my watch. Time to go and deal with fucking Stefina.

Every fucking day she’s been here to plan this sham of a wedding neither of us wants. Or rather she wants for her father, but not because she has a single feeling for me. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Worse, perhaps, because I can’t rip apart feelings that don’t exist.

I open the door to the sitting room and she turns and smiles at me, bouncing up from her chair.

“Finally!” She holds up a thick book marked Wedding Ideas.

Fuck me to hell and back. I mutter some choice curses in Russian, which she clearly catches as a dark frown mars her overly made-up face.

“That better not have been for me, Demyan.”

“Why the fuck are you here? Again?”

“We don’t have time to waste. Now, I need a drink.” She starts to push past me.

I take her arm and she shakes me free. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The kitchen. There’s more room in there, and I need to spread all this out.”

She marches off, swaying her hips, clearly not sure which way to go.

With a growl, I cut her off and lead her to the bright kitchen, where she sets herself up at the table, ordering Olga to make her some green tea. She pulls some from her bag and hands it to her. “This.”

Olga takes it. “We have green tea.”

“Mine is special. Imported from Japan.” Then she dismisses Olga and I make a coffee, watching as Stefina pours over her book, setting up swatches and cards and a list of places for flowers, cakes, caterers.

“I have some appointments to set up for the cakes. I want something spectacular. I’m thinking of a frosting that matches our outfits and also very Instagramable.”

I bite back a sigh. She’s way more interested in the wedding details than me. Personally, I’d rather she be as interested in the wedding and me on equal footing. Which is not at all.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I say.

“Nonsense. This is an us thing. And everyone knows the best vendors get snapped up early. With the cake, it’s not just the recipe but how they decorate it. And⁠—”

“As I said, I don’t give a fuck, Stefina. You don’t need to be here. And I’m busy. You’re free to make whatever wedding decisions you like. Down to the cake and menu and I’ll go along with it.”

Her eyes flash fire.

“And Demyan, I don’t think you have any interest in marrying me. I’m going to call Daddy!”

Fuck. Fuck.

What I want to do is tell her to fucking call her asshole father. But I don’t want to rock any boats until I have to.

I could call her out. She’s used to emotional blackmail, of pulling strings. So let her think she can do that… to a point. I’d rather have things smooth until they don’t need to than have her father double down. So I fucking aim for the facsimile of a smile.

“Stefina, I just don’t have the time or the inclination to spend every day planning the damned thing.”

She looks at me like I fucking slapped her.

“Do you really want my input? Because think about it carefully. I’d just rock up to the fucking town hall, get married that way. No dress, no wedding party, no cake, no nothing. Just a witness and the goddamn piece of paper. So. I’ll ask again. Do you want my input?”

“I want a big wedding. It’s what I demanded and I’m going to get. So if you think you can say things like that and you’ll get let off the hook or find a way out of this by running me off, think again. Because my father won’t stand for it. He’ll kill you if you fuck me over.”

The threat’s real and I’m about to say something to her when her eyes dart beyond me.

I turn.

Fuck again.

Alina and Erin and Sasha.

I don’t know what she heard and I’m not sure it matters because I know exactly how she feels about all this.

And they both stare at me. My sister and my woman.

Stefina’s gaze locks on Erin and in Russian, she mutters a classic insult. “She’s nothing but a car falling apart as it goes.” And then she adds one more word. “Suka.”

Bitch.

I whip around to face her. “That’s enough, Stefina. You won’t talk about the mother of my son like that.”

Erin gasps and goes tense, her face turning white, just as Stefina’s goes dark.

“I talk to people how I want in my future home,” Stefina says.

But my gaze is on Erin.

“L—Erin…”

She shakes her head. “Is that all I am to you?” she whispers.

The waters turn dangerous and my sister just stands there, offering nothing. Not that even if she had a bag of answers, she could. It would look too staged and make me look like a pushover.

Which in this moment, I feel I am.

“Here’s your tea,” Olga says, bravely stepping into the fray and placing the cup next to Stefina.

She sweeps it to the floor. “You steeped it too long.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Stefina, I’ll get you another. Two minutes or three?”

“One and a half,” Stefina snaps as Olga starts to clean up.

“That wasn’t nice. And you don’t speak to anyone in my home with disrespect. Staff or Sasha’s mother.”

Those words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. What I want to say is you don’t speak to the woman I love that way. But something like that will humiliate Stefina, a crime that’ll make its way back to Sergio.

I turn to Erin. “And you know this is your home, too.”

“As the mother of your child. Maybe I can get a job on your staff.”

“Oh, hell no. I think we’ll downsize and move to your condo when we marry,” Stefina says. Then she sniffs. “That’s if you start paying attention to the wedding.”

“I don’t care about that stuff.”

“Just the ceremony?” Erin asks.

Stefina smirks. “More like the wedding night.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. Or we’ll be getting married at the courthouse, whether your father approves or not. Now you’ll drink your tea when Olga brings it to you and you’ll like it.”

Stefina’s eyes narrow and she huffs out a breath, picking up her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

But as she keeps going, ignoring me along with everyone else, I don’t think she’s texting her father. My phone stays resolutely silent.

“Erin, this is a difficult time, so I hope you can understand.”

“You better not touch her or else,” says Stefina. “We’re saving each other for the wedding night.”

“Stefina, go plan the wedding.”

Now she throws her phone down. “We have appointments starting in half an hour.”

I look at Erin.

And I don’t know what the fuck to say.

“I got the message.”

“Mama!” Sasha tugs on Erin. “Are you sad? Don’t be sad, Mama! Dino is mean. And the lady!”

“Boarding school,” Stefina snaps.

“Over my dead body,” Erin says.

Stefina smiles. “That can be arranged.”

“Stop it.” I swallow. “All of you.”

“As I said, message received.” And Erin scoops up Sasha, who hugs her tight.

Out of desperation, surrounded by seething women, I give my sister a silent plea of help.

Her lips press tight, but she nods and turns to Erin and Sasha. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“But—”

“Now.” And not giving Erin a chance to say a word more, she drags her out the door.

My day’s just gone from bad to horrible and there’s more pain to come.

It’s not even ten a.m.

Fuck.

Chapter Eleven

ERIN

I wait until we get to the café. I haven’t explored the neighborhood; of course I haven’t. The part we go to with Sasha is in a nice part of Chicago, and it’s a drive away. The last I saw of this neighborhood was when I ran.

I thought it was mansions and big houses and then a small suburban area backed onto the highway, but it isn’t.

The area’s lush and green and pretty, and when we turn right outside the gates, two guards walking with us which makes me think that Demyan has the entire area around the property staked out, because he doesn’t want to risk anything happening to his son, it’s a tiny mecca of cafés and shops.

But as we walk, at first with Sasha beside me and then in his stroller, I listen as Alina tells me about the hidden gem of this upper-class neighborhood.

And I wait.

She orders coffee and I order tea. The smells that should be welcoming turn my stomach.

But I wait.

When our drinks are served, I lean in.

“What did that bottle-blonde woman say about me?”

Alina plays with her coffee mug. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“It was just a Russian insult that’s hard to translate the meaning of. She’s a cow. And Demyan hates her.”

“He’s still marrying her, though.”

“No,” Alina says, “he’s going along with it until he can find a way out. It’s not the same.”

“What did she say?”

Alina winces. “She called you a bitch and said you were a car falling apart as it goes.”

I frown at her.

“Really,” she says.

“No, what did she say?”

“That.”

I think about it. And I think I get it, I’m the old model, broken down, probably ridden one too many times.

I’m about to say some choice words when Sasha asks for pancakes and a wave of nausea hits me so strongly I get up and rush to the bathroom, getting there just in time to throw up.

Shaking, I sit on the toilet, head in my hands, waiting for the wave to pass.

When it recedes to a point where I can cope, I get up and go back out.

“I ordered Sasha blueberry pancakes. But I didn’t know what you wanted,” Alina says, looking at me curiously. “Toast?”

Toast would probably be fine if I wasn’t upset, but even the mention turns my stomach.

Morning sickness is kicking my ass right now, and for the past couple of days, but today’s especially bad and I should have suggested a walk or something else.

I take a sip of my plain black tea and wait. But it doesn’t make me want to puke, so I take another mouthful. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I ordered waffles ,so you can share mine if you want.”

My stomach lurches. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. As far as it goes.”

Sasha starts to play with his milk, trying to tip it on the table, but I move it out of his way.

His eyes narrow, cheeks puff, and he opens his mouth to let out a wail, but the waitress returns and sets down the pancakes that come with whipped cream and a pile of extra berries. His eyes light up and his hand comes down on the cream.

“Sasha!” I say, grabbing his hand to clean it as the waitress starts to wipe the table.

“No, Mama! Bad Mama!”

I look at the waitress. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, he’s a baby.”

She finishes cleaning as Sasha pulls free and almost falls, but Alina grabs him and he shoves his still cream-covered hand in his mouth.

“Sasha!” And I want to hurl. The smell of the cream and the syrup and batter is so strong that I have to clamp my lips together.

Alina pats my arm. And then she extracts Sasha’s hand and starts feeding him berries, which he happily eats. “I’ll feed him. You look a little green.”

Shit. She cuts up the pancake, ignoring her waffles, as she slowly feeds my son. He’s back to happy again, clearly loving the attention from his aunt Alina.

I want to tell her. I want to tell someone, but I can’t. I haven’t even told Demyan, and right now, I’m not sure I actually want to tell him. I’m nothing but a baby machine to him.

Stefina might be a shallow person, but he’s going to want to have sex, especially when I get big and that girl will never allow herself to get big. Even if she got pregnant, she’d be one of those women who stayed tiny.

A small part of me whispers I’m being utterly irrational, but I can’t help it. I want to cry and throw up, all at the same time.

“Make that a lot of green. What’s up?”

I look at Alina and then at Sasha, who’s wearing half his meal. “This whole thing just…”

“Upsets you?”

I nod.

At least talking about Demyan’s fake marriage or otherwise is something on my mind, so I’m not lying. And I like Alina. I want us to be friends. It’s just… I’m so lost and angry and heartbroken and scared.

She touches Sasha’s cheek and he laughs, shoving more pancake into his mouth.

“You know, hard as it might seem to see, Demyan wants to be with you. I’ve never seen him happier than he is with you. And Sasha’s part of it, but even without him, he’d want you. What he doesn’t want is Stefina. It’s you.”

“Then why⁠—”

“Our world’s complicated. Demyan’s just struggling with the whole of the bratva on his shoulders. He’s worked hard to build it into something better than Dad had. Made it new, modern. But he must adhere to the old rules. They don’t go away. And things like this… They’re part of it.”

“He knew what he had to do to save you and he did it. But he’s working on a way to get out of this marriage. And he wants to do it without starting a war.”

I look at her. “What if he can’t?”

“It’s Demyan. I believe in him.”

Thing is, I want to believe in him too. And if it was just a woman hanging around, I would, but it’s complicated and I get the feeling he made a horrible deal with the devil to save me.

Which makes me feel like the worst person for being so upset and angry.

“What if he can’t? And what… what if he finds he likes her more?”

Alina laughs. “Stefina?” She shakes her head. “No. Look, I feel for her, a little. I don’t like her, but her father owns her life. He made her who she is, and this is probably something she sees as freedom. And a step up. But she doesn’t like him any more than he likes her. Didn’t I already say that?”

I let out a shuddering breath. “I’m just…”

“Y’know, I’d rather you for a sister-in-law than her any day. Even if this deal wasn’t around and you and Demyan weren’t all in love, I’d want you both to be. Team Erin, that’s me.”

“Team Sasha,” says Sasha, beaming.

And my heart melts as Alina kisses him.

I’m glad I have her in my corner. And I love the bond we’re forming. It means so much, especially when she gets along so well with Kara. My dream team of female power.

Alina offers me a bite of her waffles, and my stomach protests violently. I don’t even speak as I shake my head, hand to mouth as I rush off again to the bathrooms to throw up again.

There’s not much in my stomach and I rinse my mouth of the bitter bile, swirling the water and spitting and repeating until the sweetness of the water feels just like water. My legs wobble as I make my way back to the table.

“Sorry. Maybe I ate something⁠—”

Alina holds up a hand and points a fork at me. “Are you pregnant?” Words don’t come and she narrows her eyes, poking the bare fork at me again. “Are you?”

“Please don’t tell Demyan.”

“Shit, he doesn’t know? You can’t keep it from him.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m going to tell him, soon. But if it comes from someone else, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Demyan’s got a temper, and he’s hurt over Sasha even though that’s no one’s fault, but he won’t do anything to you.”

His locking me up hangs heavily between us. “He did before.”

“Demyan did wrong, and he knows it. But what’s he going to do? Lock up a pregnant woman? Come on. You guys have moved past that. I won’t say anything, but you are going to tell him soon, right?”

“Yes, just when I’m ready.”

“Mama?” Sasha holds up a smashed blueberry to show me and then stuffs it in his mouth.

“Look, I’m not going to say anything. I promise.” Alina reaches over the table to hold my hand. “But… Do you have a doctor?”

“We went in for a checkup after… everything, but my regular doctor’s all the way on the other side of the city.”

“Well, I have an excellent OB-GYN that I can get you in to see. She usually has a waiting list months’ long, but there comes some perks with being a Yegorov. And I’m more than happy to come with you for support, if you’d like.”

“I’d love that. And as for support, are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’d be honored.”

I squeeze her hand. “Thank you. I’d really love that, Alina.”

We go for a neighborhood walk, and then when Alina mutters something about the antsy guard, we head home, a car suddenly appealing.

The young, good-looking one, Pavel, I think, helps put Sasha in the car and we all head back.

Neither Stefina and Demyan are there, which is both a relief and annoying. Annoying because I hate the idea of them spending time together, and relief that I don’t have to watch it.

Sasha and I take a nap—after he’s cleaned up and later Magda and Olga fuss over him like usual.

It’s late when Demyan returns, and he looks exhausted. I’m curled on the sofa in the upstairs living room, a more casual room with a TV where Sasha does his cartoon watching. I like the setup and it helps limit his exposure to the screen.

He undoes his tie and leans against the doorjamb as I sit up and turn off the TV. There’s a glass of amber liquid—whiskey—in his hand and he needs a shave.

Demyan both makes me tremble with desire and pulls at my heartstrings even as my head warns me to slow down.

“Fuck, Lyubimaya, you look delicious. If I didn’t think you might punch me, I’d go over there and ravish you.”

A small smile pulls at my mouth. “And a part of me wants that. Both to punch you and have you ravish me.” I pause. “You missed Sasha’s bedtime.”

“I know, and I fucking hate that more than you can know.”

“How is the future Mrs. Yegorov?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know, how are you? You look beautiful.”

“I meant⁠—”

“I know who you meant, Erin.” He sighs and comes into the room. “I spent the morning being bored shitless, trying cake I don’t give a fuck about, and trying to work on my phone as I tuned her out just enough not to bring her father thundering in and starting bullshit.”

I swallow the hard, hot ball of resentment in my throat. “And the rest of the day?”

“Business. Taking care of my empire. Making sure my world is safe enough for the three most important people. You. Sasha. Alina.”

Nodding, I look down at my hands. “I just feel…”

“Like I’m doing shit against you? This is the fallout of me getting you back alive. And I’d do it again. For you.”

I look at him. There’s something else there in those ice-blue eyes, something I can’t quite read, like he’s hiding something from me. Like this isn’t the full extent of the truth.

But I honestly can’t fathom what else there could be. And maybe it’s just the guilt of Stefina.

“I don’t like her.”

“She’s beautiful, Demyan.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “She’s overpainted, overdressed, annoying, and a shadow compared to you.”

I blink rapidly, eyes hot and blurring.

I think I get it. Here, this close, I can see the frustrations in him. But I don’t have an answer either.

“Erin, I’ll be patient. I want you. And right now, I want to kiss you, seduce you, remind you of how much more exciting it is with you now that I know the things that make you tic. How you like it hard and fast. How you like it slow.” He leans in, mouth against my ear. “How you loved it when I fucked your ass and how I want to spend an entire day and night away from Sasha and this house, and just be naked with you and the only times we get out of bed is for room service, for sex in the shower, on the floor, on the sofa…”

I laugh, I can’t help it. “Maybe I was just humoring you.”

“Then I’ll fuck you until I get it right.” He traces a line along my cheek. “But Lyubimaya, even though you’re the one I want, I’ll give you space, okay?”

I suck in a breath. “Thanks for being patient, Demyan. And thank you for waiting. I do want you. I’m sitting here, thinking how turned on I am, but I can’t. I need time. I need to wrap my head around everything.”

Demyan takes my hand and links our fingers. “Look at me, Erin.”

I raise my eyes, meeting his.

And he gazes at me, dead in the eye, so I can see his heart and soul there. “Understand, there’s only one woman I’ve ever wanted like I want you, Erin. And that’s you. No one’s come close. No one’s gotten close. You’re it.”

I nod. “That’s what makes it so fucking hard. I get it. I understand you didn’t have a choice when you agreed to this marriage with Stefina. That you did it for me. But God, it hurts sitting here, being looked at like a walking womb by her.”

“Fuck that, you’re not and you know it.”

“But I can’t help wondering if the man I love is going to be forced to go through with this wedding and what then? What happens to me and Sasha? I won’t be the piece on the side and I won’t live here, either. Obviously, you’ll see him, but he’s not going away, and he’s not going to be left alone with her, so what will we do?”

“Hey, slow down.”

“I can’t help thinking this. Because what if you can’t get out of this? You can’t start a war, Demyan.”

He sighs and leans his head against mine for a moment before sitting up and lifting the glass he’s holding on his knee. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“What if that’s not enough?” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “What if it does happen?”

Demyan swallows down the drink, but he doesn’t have an answer for me.

And it breaks my heart all over again.

Chapter Twelve

DEMYAN

Another morning, another fucking visit from Stefina who, I think, is deliberately failing to get the memo I don’t want a daily visit from her. It’s been nonstop.

Today was the tediousness about the cakes. She’s narrowed it down to ten and had the baker come with her, complete with samples of mini cakes that were decorated, as well as the samples of the cakes to try to work out which one.

Like I care about wedding cake.

Maybe, perhaps, if it was for me and Erin, but I can’t quite see Erin going to such trouble.

There’s a moment of stillness in me. I don’t give a shit about this crap, but with her, I’d like to have something she wants. Erin doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl. She doesn’t seem like the type to fuss over the perfect flavor combination, like salted caramel and dark chocolate or coconut and cream. Or…

What the hell would Erin want and why do I get the feeling it’s something she hasn’t thought about? Worse, it’s something she doesn’t think she deserves.

I’m not exactly sure where the thought comes from, but maybe because I’ve never seen Erin go out of her way to glam it up, and she’s never asked me for a thing.

Now I go still.

She’s never ever asked me for a material thing. Not a purse or shoes or cash.

Women do that, don’t they? They want things in exchange for putting out, in exchange for being pretty arm candy.

Heat burns my cheeks as I imagine what my sister would do if she caught a whiff of that line of thinking.

It’s just… in my world, Erin’s fresh and new and a breath of air I didn’t know I needed. She’s exciting, yes. I get fucking hard when she smiles in a certain way. Or when she’s naked or in my shirt. Her kisses set me on fire. But she also gives me something else, something that isn’t for sale or that costs.

No, that’s not right. It costs. But it’s a payment of myself, because she’s offered me her.

Or she did.

My phone buzzes. “Fucking Stefina,” I mutter, looking at the screen.

Tomorrow afternoon we’re looking at ideas for you and your groomsmen. My father’s best⁠—

Nope. I toss the fucking thing on the desk.

Not finishing that. It makes my head pound, this never-ending planning.

“You’ve got a lot of time to work out how to get free of this,” I mutter as my head starts to pound.

I go down to the kitchen to get some water, but Magda thrusts a bottle at me and shoves me out.

There’s a pot simmering on the stove and groceries everywhere, so she’s prepping some meals. By the looks of some of the pasta shapes, there are going to be packages in the fridge and freezer for easy meals and snacks for Sasha.

She cooks daily, but the Sasha prep seems to give her pleasure. If he’s hungry, she can heat something up, or we can.

And that makes a spot just behind my ribs warm.

But the pounding in my head increases, so I unscrew the bottle and take a few sips before heading to the downstairs bathroom for some painkillers.

I pop a couple, washing them down with some mouthfuls of water, and then I stomp back up to my study.

There’s a lot of work and I miss sex and I miss Erin even more. The house seems empty with my sister, Erin, and Sasha out on a playdate with Micah Herrod. I’ve got a report on the kid and the kid’s parents, the in-laws, second cousins. I know what the father does for a living and how many parking tickets both parents have gotten.

My son met a kid in the park and I’ve now vetted the kid and the family. And still… Pavel’s on that one with his handpicked crew.

Playdates. Fuck.

I rub my temples and open up my emails right as my phone buzzes again. I pick it up and my heart hammers as I see who it’s from.

The hospital.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Yegorov?”

“Yes? How’s Ilya?”

The air’s caught in my throat.

“He’s awake, so I thought you should know the good news.”

I hang up, pleased as fucking punch that something’s going my way. Fuck work. I head to the hospital and storm into Ilya’s room.

“Finally,” I say, “you decide to stop being lazy.”

“Yeah,” he says with a small grin, looking good for a guy who only recently was at fucking death’s door. “What can I say? I got bored.”

I dump the grapes on the side table. “Next time, don’t get shot. I need you.”

“Next time, I’ll just hand over your woman.” The steel in his voice makes me smile.

Ilya would lay down his life for Sasha and Erin and he almost did.

“Shit,” I mutter, “you scared me half to death. You almost died, Ilya.”

“Found out you can’t replace me, eh?” he says in Russian.

I switch, too. “Never, my friend. You’re family.”

“Finally, you see my worth. Can I have a raise?”

“Hell no,” I say, stealing a grape. “You’re family, family doesn’t get paid.”

“Asshole,” he says in English.

And I laugh.

“How’s Erin? Last I remember, they grabbed her.” Then he frowns. “And Sasha?”

“Fine, all fine. Home and safe and sound.”

“Good,” he says, “that’s good. And Alina? Is she okay?”

“She has ups and downs, but Sasha and Erin are good for her,” I say.

He frowns some more.

“Are you in pain?”

“Fuck yes, but I don’t like so much of these painkillers. They dull the mind. They made me sleep. Those and all the sedatives.”

“They had you in a medically induced coma.”

He sniffs. Then he goes back to Russian. “I knew you’d get Sasha, I told her that, but she was so beside herself, so worked up that she tried to escape to find him. That’s how it happened. They stormed the hospital and Erin was out of her room, under the guise of using a bathroom. Niko?”

“Niko’s dead. He took Sasha as a decoy. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Tough as nails,” he says. “So, how did you find him? Niko has many hiding places. Some even I don’t know about.”

I squeeze my hand into a fist and start to pace. “I found him through Sergio.”

“Fuck, Demyan.”

“I know,” I hiss. “I had to make a deal. A real deal with him, one where he got my word on tape.”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Erin’s life is worth it.”

He sighs. “There must have been another way. He wants to share in your empire. And I assume this deal is that idiotic marriage you got out of once.”

“Yeah.”

“We kill him.”

“Everyone will know, Ilya. Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’ll have safety nets about that. I touch him. Fuck, I break this agreement, and there’ll be a war.”

He’s silent a long time. “We can survive a war. But we’ll lose standing. The important neutral players we deal with won’t trust us and that means surviving not thriving. We need something…”

“I know.” I swallow. “There’s a way I just don’t see it. And Stefina isn’t helping. And Erin doesn’t understand.”

“Do you blame her?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. “I understand her. There needs to be a way. And with all that, we need to at least attempt to appease Stefina if we get out of this. I don’t need to like her to know she’s her father’s pawn and doesn’t know it.”

“Maybe she does.”

“Maybe.” I pull up a chair and sit.

“Fuck, sounds complicated,” Ilya mutters.

“You’re not wrong,” I agree.

Ilya looks at me. “Give me some work to do.”

“You just had major surgery, and you were in a medically induced coma, then took your sweet time waking up.”

Ilya clicks his tongue. “Fuck that. This place is driving me insane,” he says, continuing in Russian. Then he says, “I’m off the heavy sedatives and pain meds, so I can work. Or give me a gun.”

“I’ll give you work.”

“Thank you,” he says. Ilya looks at me expectantly.

“I’m not sending you out on the streets. You’re hooked up.”

“Get me a computer and my phone.” I find his phone on the side table and hand it to him. Then I send a message from mine to Pavel to arrange the computer.

“Okay, find out what you can on Sergio. All the dirt, even the smallest speck.”

“Why?” He narrows his eyes.

“Because fucking Stefina won’t quit coming over every day to plan her gaudy wedding of the century.”

Actually, it’s not as gaudy as I thought it would be, but it’s big, way too big for my tastes, and too splashy.

“Doesn’t matter what I say, how much free rein I give her, she’s there. Every day.”

“Maybe she doesn’t get it,” Ilya says, “or she’s under orders to keep an eye on you.”

“Maybe.” That’s one thing I didn’t think about because what the fuck could she spy on. I don’t conduct business in front of my sister or Erin. I sure as fuck wouldn’t in front of Stefina. And my office is locked when I’m not in it. Especially now that she thinks my home is her second one.

“See if she’ll meet you at the penthouse,” Ilya says.

I note that down, but I’ll have to introduce that carefully or it’ll be seen as a slight. And fuck knows, Stefina sees everything as a slight.

“Demyan?” he asks. “Who’s footing it all?”

“Sergio.”

“Damn.”

“Isn’t that the traditional way? We know Sergio’s a traditional guy.”

“Yes, but he’ll put down every cent spent and owning you more.”

“He can think what he wants, but he doesn’t and he won’t. We’ll get out of this.”

“I’m on it,” he says, picking up the phone and getting to work.

I do the same. I’m texting one of the businesses I deal with about a payment pickup when my phone pings.

An appointment notification?

I open it, surprised to see the doctor, an OB-GYN Alina saw years ago when she wanted to go on birth control but was too afraid to ask our father. She asked me instead, and while I didn’t ask why—I didn’t want to hear about my seventeen-year-old sister having sex with her seventeen-year-old idiotic boyfriend… and I knew girls took the pill for reasons other than sex—I agreed to take her and act as her guardian.

I never took the doctor or her appointments off my phone. She hadn’t used the doctor in years, or if she had, she’d added it to Max’s phone. Though why not her own?

Maybe it’s one of those lady checkups they have. Or maybe… what if she’s pregnant?

“Something wrong?” Ilya looks at me.

“No, I’ll be back tomorrow. Pavel will drop off your computer, but don’t overdo it.”

“Yes. Sir.”

“Asshole.”

On the way to my car, I call Alina.

“Demyan?”

“I just got an alert on my phone about a checkup with your OB-GYN. Is everything okay?”

There’s a telling beat of silence, then she stutters and finally pushes out what’s clearly a bullshit excuse. “Oh. Did it come to your phone?” She utters a forced laugh. “It’s just a routine checkup, that’s all.”

Thing is, Alina can’t fucking lie to save her own life, especially to me. She’s like glass, completely see-through.

I don’t doubt she’s going in for a visit, I wouldn’t have gotten the alert, but there’s nothing routine. Nothing at all.

But I don’t call her out. “Okay, just thought I’d check.”

I hang up.

No, I’m not going to push it.

I’m going to follow her to the appointment in the morning, instead.

If I thought our talk the other night had changed things with Erin, it hasn’t.

She’s still distant, perhaps more so than usual. Worse, she’s doing her best to avoid me.

An easy job in this mansion. And with our son as an excuse.

I push Stefina off into the afternoon and tell her I have a business trip coming up. Then, sitting at my desk, I call in Alina.

She’s jittery, too. I bite back a sigh. “I’m thinking of doing something for Erin.”

That catches her attention. “Yes?”

“Would you mind watching Sasha for a weekend? I was thinking of taking her away for a surprise weekend away. Somewhere romantic.”

“Yes!” She claps her hands, then shakes a finger at me. “Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t,” I say with more hope than assurance.

When she goes, I find the perfect spot and book it.

Then I go searching for Erin.

She’s not with Sasha, who’s with Olga downstairs, and she’s not in our room. A place she’s been spending less time in than I like. As in not sleeping there.

I find her in her room, curled on the bed, looking pale. I cross to her and brush her hair from her face and she stirs. “Hey, Lyubimaya,” I say softly, “it’s me.”

She sits up. “I fell asleep.”

“I wanted to let you know that Ilya’s awake and doing well.”

A bright smile lights up her face, bringing a little color with it. “Oh, I’m so happy. Thank you. He’s like family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

I start to leave, knowing I need to give her some space. But I stop. “This weekend, we’re going away. I booked us a place.”

“Where? Is it child friendly?”

“Lake Geneva.”

“In Wisconsin?”

“It’s gorgeous.” I pause. “And it’s just for us. Sasha’s staying here with Alina.”

Her face falls. “Oh, I… I don’t know about being apart from him.” Then she bites her lip. “But I guess some time away will do us both some good.”

“He loves Alina.” I smile. “And she loves him. It’ll be good for everyone.”

She breathes out in a rush. “Okay.” This time I go to leave, but she calls out. “Demyan?”

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow morning, c-can you watch Sasha? If you’re not with Stefina.”

“I’m not.”

She nods. “I have plans with Alina, and they’d be better if he stays here; h-he gets bored shopping.”

“I’d love to. You know I love spending time with our son. I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Maybe. I had a late lunch,” she says.

I keep my face neutral as I go, but fuck, are they shopping after Alina’s appointment, or is the shopping a ruse for this OB-GYN appointment?

Tomorrow, I’m finding out.

Chapter Thirteen

DEMYAN

I’m playing with Sasha, with his little trucks—he’s given me the pink one and ordering me about, something I very much allow.

Fucking Stefina’s been pushed off to Monday. I’ve cited unexpected and very important business, but whether she decides to turn up today is anyone’s guess. She won’t be allowed in, though, so it doesn’t particularly bother me.

“No, Dino!” Sasha commands, pointing to the right where he’s got quite the buildup of soft toys and then the cars and trucks. On top of them all sits that flea-bitten toy goat.

“Over here?” I point in the opposite direction.

He attacks me, pushing at my arm, frowning hard, trying to move me. “Daddy! No!”

My arm goes soft and he gets his way as the shock of the word hits me.

I don’t say anything because I’m not sure I can.

“Mine,” he says, taking the pink trunk in triumph and adding it to his pile. Then he glances at me, worry spreading, and he picks out a toy and a car and gives them to me.

My heart’s so big, it could burst. This fucking little kid.

Daddy.

I’m sure it’ll be back and forth, between Dino, Dane, and Daddy, but he said it. And that’s mine.

My eyes blur and I blink hard as Erin comes in and kisses Sasha.

“You’re gonna be good today for Daddy?”

“Yes, Mama.”

And then she kisses me and whispers, “How good did that feel?”

Fuck, she heard. Did she coach him?

She gives me another kiss.

“Did you…?”

“What? Tell him to say that?” She smiles. “Nope, that was all him.”

“Go, Mama,” Sasha says, shoving at her. “Dino is playing.” Then he flicks his gaze at me. “Good Daddy.”

“Are we ready?” Alina’s at the door. She doesn’t quite look at me.

“Yep.” Erin gets up and they leave.

I’m guessing they’re going for coffee or something, first as the appointment isn’t for a few hours.

We play a little longer, and then I take Sasha up to change him from his pajamas. “What do you want to do today?”

“Climb a hill! Play!” Then he frowns and suddenly his entire face lights up. “Park! Park!”

I chuckle. This kid loves that park. I’m guessing hill and the generic play were his lead up to park.

“Okay, we’ll go to the park. Do you want to go to a new park?”

“New?”

“One you haven’t been to.”

Sasha thinks about this. “Slide?”

“It’s got a slide,” I say gravely. “And swings.”

“Okay.”

The park I’m thinking of is on the other side of the city, in a rich area, and one where I can get close to the doctor’s office. Not to mention it’s an easy trip to the hospital to drop in on Ilya.

Because I’ve got Sasha for the morning, I stop and get fries and milkshakes. Fries because I’m a fucking pushover when it comes to this kid and he loves fries and milkshakes because I’ve decided it’s got milk in it, which is good for him.

It’ll never hold up in court, but then again, I’m the fucking head of a powerful bratva so I can do what I like.

I hand Sasha his milkshake after we arrive at the park, my men already there.

Personally, I really don’t need to travel with an entourage, but when it’s my son, and with everything going on, my senses still fucking tingling like there’s trouble on the horizon, I do.

When I get the clear text, I open the back door. “We’re here.”

His eyes widen, and he bounces in his seat as I go to release him. “Daddy? My new park?”

“Yeah.” I’m not debating ownership with a two-year-old.

The moment he’s down he spies the kid slide and takes off at a run for it, fast as his chubby little legs will take him. I follow along, my strides eating up the space so he’s not outside of reaching distance.

This park is big, about three times bigger than the one Erin takes him to. And it has a lot more things to climb and explore and Sasha throws himself into it all, slide first.

“Look at me!” His cry lifts my heart and I grin and clap, cheering him on. “Catch me, Daddy!”

I oblige, scooting in and nabbing him as he heads down, feet first, screaming the entire way.

“More!”

He goes down the slide a few more times, and then we hit the swings. There’s a big kid slide that both entices him and scares his pants off, so I go down with him, managing to squeeze myself onto it.

And together we play. There’s a lot to do. He chases me, and I chase him, windmill him when I catch him, and then I hold him so he can pretend to be one of the bigger kids and attack the jungle gym.

There’s even a small maze and Sasha giggles as I chase him through it, letting him stay just out of reach. And honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages, maybe since I can remember. That innocent fun of childhood that somehow slipped me by.

But it’s something I’m determined to give my boy.

I scoop him up and he screams and giggles. “Put me down, Dino!”

“Never. I’m gonna eat you.”

“No!!!”

And I blow raspberries on his tummy as he wiggles and giggles to get free.

We’ve been there about an hour when I realize we have to go and I tell Sasha.

He stamps his foot, crosses his arms, frowns and demands, “More! More!”

Sasha’s so fucking cute and his little pout that adorable that I cave. “One more slide, okay?”

“More.”

“We’ll come back next week,” I say. “Make it our ritual.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Next week. And maybe we can go see Uncle Ilya today.”

His face brightens. “Chocklit?”

“Okay.” I bend down. “But don’t tell your mama.”

He throws his arms around me and I scoop him up and take him back to the car, securing him into his child seat.

Luckily, he falls asleep as I drive to where the doctor’s office is. I park a few doors down over on the other side of the street.

I’m early, but so are they. Trouble is, I can’t tell a fucking thing about the visit other than they head toward the clinic with determination. I glance in the rearview mirror. Sasha’s sound asleep, his goat with him, and he looks so adorable that if I was a different man, I’d cry.

Clenching my jaw, I watch as the girls walk into the clinic.

One of them has to be pregnant. I vaguely remember when I set up the appointment for Alina years ago, thinking one day she’ll get married and have kids and that I wanted the best for her in women’s care, especially for pregnancy, and this doctor had some of the best credentials around.

But if one of them is pregnant, which one? Alina might be pregnant with Max’s child. However, I’d like to think, if she was, she’d have told me about Erin, or me as well as Erin. We’re close, close enough for that, definitely. And I’d be one hundred percent behind her if she was.

And Erin?

Shit, this fucking idiotic wedding bullshit with Stefina’s complicated things enough that she might not confide in me if she found out she was pregnant.

I swallow hard.

Another baby?

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about that possibility or the fact she just might keep it from me. If it’s her, is it going to turn out to be like Sasha all over again?

Worse, is she going to try to rip Sasha from my life?

And if I can’t get out of the Stefina thing? I refuse to let that happen, but worst case, if it does, then she’s got every right to move out. Even if I set her up, it wouldn’t be the same.

Fuck. I’ll bring the world down, burning in war before I let⁠—

My phone buzzes, breaking my doomed thought stream.

I pick it up from the seat next to me. Ilya.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“You need to come to the hospital right now.”

“I was going to bring Sasha⁠—”

“Alone.”

I frown, plugging the phone in and starting the engine. “Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ilya’s voice fills the car as I pull out into the traffic. “But I need you now.”

I drive home, and hand Sasha over to Olga, then text Erin to let her know Ilya needs me but I’ll be back when I can. Then I head to the hospital, putting the whole maybe baby situation out of my head.

It’s all conjecture anyway, and thinking about it is only going to drive me crazy and take up precious real estate that could be given to the Stefina/Sergio issue.

Oh, I’ll deal with the who might be pregnant drama later, but as I head inside the hospital, I pick up a couple of coffees from the fancy cafeteria and go up to the private and now very secure wing where Ilya is.

The hospital security’s already now top notch but this wing’s next level.

My only regret is I didn’t set it up when Erin came in.

For a checkup and a stay overnight, I remind myself. I didn’t know and I can’t walk about putting up the equivalent of royalty level security at every fucking turn.

I took Sasha to the park, for fuck’s sake and it was fine. Erin’s out with only a couple of guys watching her. High-level guys, but only a couple.

Finally, I walk into Ilya’s room and put his coffee down on the table that he has set up as a workstation.

He looks better than he did the other day, and I know part of that’s because he’s working.

There are fewer tubes and drips and machines hooked up to him, but he’s still wired for sound as the beeps and blips announce.

When I sit, Ilya lets out a noisy breath.

“Oh, good, you’re paying attention.”

“What is it?”

He’s speaking Russian, which tells me it’s important. “I’ve discovered some things you might be interested in. I think you said people were waiting in the wings to pick apart Niko’s holdings, and you had an eye on some land and some of his operations.”

“Someone else swoop in?”

I’m sure there’s a made man or a second in the wings, but that shit takes time to set up. Many will sell off or make deals. But the air Ilya’s wearing says that’s off the table.

“Niko’s cousin from out of town has just stepped in. Has his own setup already and taking over is a matter of simple expansion and absorption.”

“Does the cousin have a name?” I should know the name. The fact I don’t make it interesting. Niko was never one to hide powerful connections, so maybe there’s something there…

“Rocco.”

“What do we know about him?”

“Just the bare basics. He isn’t Chicago-based, doesn’t seem to have dealings here, but it makes sense for him to step in and take over.”

“Is he looking to sell?”

“He’s not as far as I know.”

“You win some, you lose some.” I shrug. “If he comes after me, I’ll lay it on the line what Niko did.”

“The cousin’s taking over, as I said, but that’s not the interesting part.”

“You better get to it,” I say, “or they’ll be hooking me up to some of this equipment soon.”

He just raises a brow and shoots me an unimpressed look. “Sir.”

I roll my eyes.

“Thing is, he’s got history with Sergio. It’s old, seemingly buried, but their subsidiaries still do business. I’m still digging. But… surely not a coincidence, right?”

I shrug again. I have to step carefully, as I’ve taken out two family members already. Right now, it’s on the borderline of balanced with what was done and recriminations, but… “Could be something, could be nothing.”

“Demyan.”

“We tread carefully. Send me his name and what you have, and Ilya?”

“Yes?”

“Find me proof that something underhanded is going on. If not with them, somewhere else.”

“Of course, I’ll clear my schedule.”

I switch to English. “How are you doing?”

“Bored shitless,” he says. “This is my link to sanity. Not to mention, I worry about you all with me not there to protect you.”

“I’m building a safe room.”

He just laughs and shakes his head. “That’s me.”

“You’re hooked up in here, going nowhere.”

“This is only until my checkup tomorrow and they’ll probably just downgrade me to the canula, no drip.”

“So they’re letting you out?” I frown and stand, leaning in to study him closely. “You’re too thin and you got shot. Are they idiots?”

“No, they’re the best as you well know.” Ilya fluffs a pillow one-handed. “They’re not releasing me tomorrow, but… hopefully in the next few days, so long as I promise to take it easy.”

“Well, you’ll be staying at the mansion, or we’ll move to the penthouse until you’re back on your feet.”

“The mansion’s safer for you.”

“I’ll prep a room on the ground floor.”

He waves a hand at me. “Eh, I’ll be fine, you don’t need to do that.”

“Too bad.” I sit and cross my arms. “You’re staying at the mansion, close. Friends take care of friends, Ilya. Besides, Sasha asks about his uncle.” Then I take a breath. “He called me daddy today.”

“He did? Told you.”

I grumble an insult in Russian at him that makes him laugh.

Then he looks at me and takes a sip of his coffee. “And how is your love triangle?”

“My what?”

He completely and deliberately ignores the warning in my voice that would make others shake. “Your love triangle, how’s it going?”

“I heard you and it’s…” I roll my eyes again. “About as you’d expect. Stefina’s every bit of the nightmare we expected. And she’s getting worse, not better. It’s taking its toll on Erin.”

“I warned you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m taking her away for a couple of nights. A romantic weekend. I hope it’s enough to show her that my feelings, my real ones, lie with her.”

Ilya grins. “I know you think you’re a god in bed, but perhaps instead of sex and gifts and getaways, you show her by using actual words, too. Make sure she gets the message.”

“I plan to show her that and make sure she knows it with words, yes, and with every single way I can think of.”

Even if it’s just holding her.

Ilya grimaces. “I know I mentioned sex, but you don’t need to back it up, and no, I don’t need to approve your moves first. Too much information, asshole.”

I laugh. And I hope, I really hope that she sticks with me through this, because things just might get bumpy in more ways than one.

Chapter Fourteen

ERIN

The doctor, due to an emergency, is running horribly late, almost two hours, so after arriving, I did the blood tests required and we rescheduled for a little later in the day and then went for tea at a tea shop nearby, one where the smells soothed rather than turned my stomach.

Demyan had just texted a little while ago, but I’m too nervous to text him back. Not about the checkup, but about what I’m going to do.

Now, I’m sitting with Alina in the waiting room of the clinic, which is pretty much one of the swankiest waiting rooms I’ve been in.

Alina smiles as we wait for my name to be called, or… rather, Alina’s.

I turn to her. “Does she know it’s me?”

I’m clutching the clipboard with the paperwork.

“She’ll know, but it’s under your name⁠—”

“The initial appointment was, but I just changed it on the phone when I got up. The name Yegorov has some sway. You’re fine. Finished?” She points at the clipboard.

I nod, and she takes it from me, handing it to the receptionist.

“Nervous?” she asks as she takes her seat again.

My hands clenched in my skirt. “A little.”

That’s the understatement of the century.

And the world’s swankiest waiting room, a place that probably gives first-class airline lounges a run for their money, makes me feel a little out of my depths. Like I don’t belong.

Alina’s a Yegorov, but I’m not. And this is miles away from the basic waiting room of the hospital appointed OB I used when pregnant with Sasha.

Not to mention a whole lot more expensive. My insurance won’t cover this. I know that Alina offered to pay, but I have enough in my bank. And I don’t feel right having Max’s widow, Demyan’s sister, my friend, paying.

Shit. Demyan. A twinge of guilt passes through me, making my stomach turn. He should be here, not Alina.

I have to tell him. Soon. Bite the bullet, suck it up, and deal. It doesn’t matter if he has to marry Stefina and we don’t work out—and we won’t if that happens—he has the right to know.

And he’s proved himself to be a great and loving father to Sasha, which means he’ll be a great and loving father to this new baby, too. If I give him the chance.

I have to.

Even if, by some miracle, I’m able to hide the parentage from him if the marriage with Stefina goes ahead, I need to share with him the truth. I need to give him the chance to be a father right from the start.

“Erin Banks?”

I look up as my name’s called, and Alina squeezes my hand. “Go, I’ll be right here. Unless…?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” I say to Alina and rise.

The doctor’s a friendly-looking woman and her smile and easy ways puts me at ease. She takes her time, chatting with me as she does her examination and manages to slide in all the right questions that, thinking back, made me nervous as hell the first time around, like diet and morning sickness and everything else.

“Please take a seat,” the doctor says. When I do, she takes hers and smiles, pulling up information on her computer. “Everything looks fine. It’s still early and things are progressing nicely. You’re in good health.”

Her gaze hits me. “You have a son? Two?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t have a pediatrician, I can recommend one here at the clinic. Kids love her. If you want to schedule in an appointment for him next time you come in, we can. Just for a checkup and to get him on our system.”

“That would be perfect. We’re between regular doctors right now.”

Her gaze flips to the computer as she types something, then she says, “Your blood results came back from our pathologist. Obviously, they confirm the pregnancy. As I said, it’s early days. Your HCG levels are doubling nicely and your bloodwork tells me everything’s looking good. Some mothers want an ultrasound even this early. We can do one?”

“No.”

“It won’t look like a baby, which is perfectly normal, just a little embryo, which is what it is.” Again, the doctor smiles.

“I know,” I say. “Just… Demyan should be here for that.”

“The father? Bring him to your next appointment and we’ll do one.”

I nod and thank her and head out to set up the follow-up appointment and one for Sasha.

While I know presenting Demyan with a guess what, we’re pregnant ultrasound photo is a cute way of announcing the pregnancy, given our circumstances and how much he missed with Sasha, he should be present for the first ultrasound.

As we leave, Alina bumps shoulders with me. “How are you feeling?”

“Excited,” I say with a smile, hooking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And I’m sure Demyan will be, too.”

“When you tell him.”

“When I tell him.” I take a breath as we make our way to the car. “Even if our future’s uncertain because of this Stefina thing, I don’t doubt his love for Sasha or his commitment to his children, no matter what happens with us.”

She stops me and makes me face her. “Erin, you’re the one Demyan loves. I know that, I know him. I know my brother. And he’ll find a way out of this idiotic wedding.”

“What if he decides not to? What if marrying her makes better business sense to him and he goes ahead with it?”

Alina’s eyes flash. “He’d be crazy to go through with this wedding based on that.”

She continues to the car and I follow. The driver is waiting outside and opens the door. A glimpse of a gun brings reality crashing back down around me. “He might.”

I slide in next to her. As the door closes, she turns to me and gives me a sad smile. “Demyan would never decide to marry her based on it making good business sense when he has you. Trust me.”

“I want to. But there’s the possibility he can’t get out of it. And that’s not good.” I give her a sad smile. “I guess… I guess all I can do is hope things work out, but be prepared if they don’t.”

Because as much as Alina says her brother won’t make that decision based on business, I can’t shake the fact he might. He’s so caught up in it all. And he’s bratva; business is life and death and power. If this is power, great power, then… what little he’s told me about his father suggests he just might marry her because he was brought up to put the business first.

And Stefina’s gorgeous.

That must count for something.

“Erin?”

“Hopefully, this getaway will give us the chance to really see where our relationship stands.”

Or if we even have one.

When we get home, Demyan’s still out, but Sasha’s excited. He runs up to me, flinging his arms around my legs. “Mama! Mama! I went to a big park with Daddy! We went down the slide! I wanna go again! Dino is fun!”

And he giggles, letting me go and rushing to hug Alina’s legs. She mouths ‘Daddy?’ at me and looks happily.

Sasha’s babbling about his morning to Alina and I smile.

I’m so happy Demyan and Sasha are getting along so well, and it gives me a tiny nugget of hope that things just might work out.

Chapter Fifteen

ERIN

Nerves eat at me as I sit in the seat next to Demyan while he drives.

It’s just us as far as I can tell. No driver, no guards. At least, no guards visible. We left early, Sasha clinging and crying as we went. Not even the promise of treats could calm him. And my heart hurts.

Demyan’s quiet, almost cold, like he has been since the day he spent with Sasha.

He’s been busy, but… but I’m too scared to ask what’s up.

What if this weekend is his way of letting me down, breaking my heart by telling me he’s going to marry Stefina?

I have to ask. I have to say something.

“Demyan —”

“Sasha’s fine,” he says softly. “Alina texted you twenty minutes ago with a pic, right? He’s having fun and is over the separation anxiety. It’s good.”

I just nod. It wasn’t what I was going to say. I wanted to ask… Hell, I just wanted reassurance we’re fine.

I almost laugh. It’s like I’ve done some kind of one-eighty, from being mad at him to wanting him to mollify me.

My hormones are all over the place. One minute I’m mad, the next I’m wanting to cling. I don’t remember such a roller coaster with Sasha, but maybe that’s because I didn’t have my heart on the line.

I sigh quietly. I’m not sure what I expect here. He’s got a lot on his mind. And if I’m being fair and nonemotional, nonhormonal, I know his quietness, the chill in the air I seem to feel has a lot to do with Stefina.

He’s never, not once, shown a lick of interest in her, a smidge of happiness or excitement. Not even warmth. Just cool politeness.

This whole forced-on-him marriage is hard on him, too.

If I’m being fair and logical.

I frown as I look out the window as we pass into Wisconsin. Thing is she’s just always perfection when she walks in. Her gym-sculpted body, the designer outfits, her makeup, hair, even the expensive perfume that trails her is all on point.

Stefina’s a woman who turns heads. She’s manicured and feminine and is always, always shown her best.

Me? Half the time I’m wearing whatever Sasha’s wearing: dirt, paint, food. My hair’s not perfect. Not even back when I was working my full-time job and didn’t have Sasha, when I could go to get my hair cut did it look like hers. She looks like she just stepped out of a salon.

And now mine’s sometimes mussed by Sasha. Or it’s in a messy ponytail.

The only designer thing I own is the dress Demyan bought for me and I wore out. There are other clothes he’s added to my wardrobe, but things I wear, nice dresses, jeans, tops. Like he took one look and summed me up.

I don’t want designer shit. I’m just sick of being second best, of comparing and coming up short.

And not even the fact Demyan reassures me about everything can shake the feeling I’m going to end up heartbroken.

What if they marry and she decides she wants the children with them? I don’t have the power to fight that.

I swallow, the sudden rush of tears threatening to spill free.

“Hey.” Demyan reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it. “I’m driving, but I’d keep holding your hand if I wasn’t.”

He puts my hand on his thigh as he returns his to the wheel.

A small sound escapes me. I don’t expect this. At all. “Demyan?”

“Lyubimaya,” he murmurs, “no negative thoughts. We’re together and this weekend is for us to put all the shit behind us. I want to show you what you mean to me. This weekend is just about the two of us. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say, nodding.

But I wish it was that simple. How can I just make it about us when I still haven’t told him about the new baby? And how the hell can I just forget my fiancé is marrying someone else?

Lake Geneva is gorgeous, but he drives through the populated area, past the marina and then the big properties where the rich live. He turns onto a small road into the hills and we end up at a cabin.

It’s not your normal, run-of-the-mill cabin. It’s off a private, winding road, and as we get out, it feels remote, set in the woods, with spectacular views of the mountains and a glimpse of the lake around the side where a big porch is. But Demyan punches in a code to the high-tech pad next to the door, and then he turns the handle.

“Come on in.”

Though we’re remote enough, far enough away from other properties we could be deep in the wilderness, there’s a fire crackling in the fireplace and the air’s scented with lemon and honey from the furniture polish.

It’s not huge, but it’s roomy, a kitchen and dining area off to one side, a big, fat, comfy-looking sofa and chairs around the fireplace, and then off to the other side, up a few steps, is the bedroom, which is separated by filmy curtains, pulled back to showcase the king-sized bed with cream-colored covers, a corner pulled back and red roses lying on that spot.

Just down from the steps is the en suite.

I go up and pick up the roses, their perfume heady as I smell them. And my heart beats fast.

He could have gone opulent, somewhere as indulgent as the hotel suite where I met him.

But this is modern rustic. A simple setup with all the amenities and I know if I opened the fridge, it would be full, just for us.

It’s romantic and low-key and a place where I can relax and indulge myself in Demyan.

He’s in jeans and a light black sweater, his pale-blue eyes almost ethereal as he watches me, leaning against the wall.

Tall, lean, the right level of muscular, a man who doesn’t have to try and impress with his masculinity, he naturally exudes that and power and a deep level of sexiness that steals my breath.

And suddenly I’m an innocent virgin, ready to taste passion for the first time, trembling with both nerves and anticipation. Not to mention a healthy dose of desire.

But I’m not an innocent virgin. And I’ve tasted the passion that Demyan brings. It’s what I want, need; it beats a drum in my blood; I can’t quiet. And I know the reason I didn’t try to date after Sasha was born is this man.

No one could ever hope to stand up to him.

No one could ever hope to reach me like he did and does.

I know what I want to do. I want to relinquish my fear and anger and frustrations about this marriage he might be forced into. I want to pretend it’s all okay and sink down into him, let him touch me the way I crave. I want to give myself over to him.

But I have to tell him the truth first.

About our new baby. I’d planned on it, but I think it has to be now. Turn the page, start fresh. “Demyan —”

“Enough,” he says, straightening, that quiet command in his voice tapping into a part of my brain he made come alive the night we conceived Sasha. His domination, that thing I crave, fucked up as it is.

I’m melting on the spot because of that tone.

But I try to push through. “Demyan —”

“I said enough.” He strides to me with purposeful movements and stops right in front of me, our bodies almost brushing and my skin so alive it’s almost sparking. “I’ve been as accommodating as I can be. Letting you slink off to sleep with Sasha, using our son as a shield. I’ve let you turn me down when your body says take me.”

“I’ve even kept my hands to myself when you look at me like you want me to come in my fucking pants. So. Enough. Either you want me or you don’t, Erin.”

“I do, you know I do, but⁠—”

“No buts.”

And he hooks a hand in my hair and pulls me to him, taking my mouth in a deep and savage kiss.

I thought I wanted the soft, reverential romance of when he rescued me. A tenderness that whispered words of love.

But I was wrong. I want this, his domination, his taking, his passion so wild and needing he just states it—rough, naked, savage.

And I kiss him back as hard as I can, our tongues touching and dancing. He’s danger and home; he’s fire and the dark glowing embers beneath the flame. And I want to be consumed.

Demyan lifts his head.

My hands shake as I tug at his sweater, but he pulls them away as he leads me to the lounge area, hand still in my hair, holding my head as he watches me.

The crackle and pop of the fire is like a sweet song and the heat radiating is nothing like the heat blazing from him as he lets go of my hair and puts pressure on my shoulders. I go to my knees.

I want his cock and I go to free him. “No. On your back, dress off, and stretch out.”

The tremble in me shimmers harder as I kick off my shoes and do as asked, flinging the cotton dress to the armchair.

Then he looks down at me. “Fucking glorious.”

Demyan drops to his knees. He kisses me again, tracing a line from my mouth to the swell of my breast, down over my chin and throat. Then he lifts his gaze to mine.

“Hands up over your head and keep them there.”

I can barely breathe. I want him to tie me up so I can’t move, so whatever he does is on him and I’m at his mercy.

I’m there, anyway.

He runs fingers down over my flesh and I shiver, my pussy throbbing for him. It’s been so long, too long, and I’m the only one to blame.

With a flick of his fingers, he undoes the front clasp of my bra and then lowers his head to suck one nipple, his teeth nipping, sending an electric shock down to my clit, and then he does the same to the other.

He strips off my underwear, and his mouth follows down, licking a path, and he sucks hard on my clit, making me shriek and writhe. He laves me with his tongue, his lips sucking on me, teeth scraping so I’m on edge, wanting more, wanting him to back off and he continues, adding his fingers, sliding them up into me, thrusting a beat until my body starts to undulate and the pressure-pleasure builds, sliding into pure pleasure and if he⁠—

Demyan stops as I tremble on the edge of orgasm. A wicked smile blooms on his face as he pulls all the way back, stripping down and taking my hips, turning me so I have to get on my hands and knees.

“Arms down. Face against the fucking rug.”

I do as he asks the orders, turning me on more, and I need to come. I’m so turned on I’m shaking hard.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, Lyubimaya.” He leans over me and his cock nudges against my thighs. “Tell me not to do this. I dare you.”

“No.”

“No?” The mock in his tone is tinged with something that calls something I need.

“No, I want to. I want this.”

He doesn’t answer, just slides a hand around my belly and thrusts into me, holding me in place, a hand on my stomach, one on my hip as he takes me hard and fast, the thrusts deep, so deep I can feel them hit in my soul, and I whimper.

Demyan doesn’t relent; each slam of his cock into me is ripping a strip from me, laying me bare for him, and the pleasure is fire now, but I need to reach that pinnacle, the holy grail.

Like he knows this, the hand on my stomach lowers and he slides down, between my thighs to my clit, and he starts to thrum it. Each thrust into my pussy is a welcome invasion and he stretches me, each hit a note of resounding pleasure that sings out in my veins and still I’m not there. I clutch at him with my pussy, like I need to milk him, like I need him to stay.

I can’t stop. I’m flying high in the air and he presses down on my clit and I scream as I shatter, coming hard, spasming on his cock.

But he doesn’t come.

He pulls out as I’m coming and the emptiness is criminal. I moan out my protests, but all he does is flip me to my back and pull up my knees so I’m wide open to him.

He looks down and grins. It’s a feral look, like he’s admiring all that’s his.

And he is.

I’m his.

My pussy is his.

My heart.

My everything.

I want to scream it out as the pleasure waves keep hitting. I want to scream out I love him more than I can think, but I don’t. I love him, he knows that, but to tell him the extent of that ownership and have it thrown back at me down the track is more than I can bear.

He plunges back into me, pressing my thighs in against me and I’m open and wide and can’t move because he controls it all in this position and he invades all the spaces in me.

“I want you to come again for me. Show me how you’re mine.”

I whimper. And he bites my throat, thrusting deep and steady, this position hitting different places and setting off different fires inside me.

The pleasure starts to roll again as he hits a certain spot that’s so good it’s almost too much. I try to wiggle to move away but I can’t so when that wave of orgasm hits me, my clit’s mashing against him and he’s hitting that spot in me and it’s too much, too, too much, but he doesn’t stop; he just pushes through the intensity until it spills out into a sea of bliss that I ride on.

Someone—me—is crying out, moaning, sobbing, calling to him.

And he kisses me as he starts to thrust differently, harder, deeper, and a darker pace. This is for him.

He’s pushing those threads of pleasure in me to the edges of what I can endure, and it turns to too much again, but he doesn’t stop, and he grunts, groaning. A deeper knell begins in me, something that starts to shake all of me and I cry out his name as a wave of ecstasy hits me hard, and I start to clench on him.

Demyan cries out and kisses me, and he jerks, his cock twitching and spilling inside me as he comes, too.

“Oh, fuck, fuck. Erin. Jesus, so good. You’re so fucking spectacular. My own personal goddess. I worship at your feet. And you fit so tight around me, so hot and wet. Fuck.”

He collapses, rolling us so I’m on top. I let my legs drape on either side of him and I put my head on his damp chest.

The race of his heart echoes mine and I hold him close, his still hard cock inside me. He came so deep.

If I wasn’t already knocked up, he’d have probably done so with this. Or maybe that’s just how my fucked-up mind works.

Truth is, I want his children. I want that bond. We have Sasha, and I want Sasha to have siblings. I want a tribe. I want Demyan there, my lover, husband, master in the bedroom.

I try to steady my insane thoughts. I’m tripping on the pleasure that still rocks through me like tiny thrills.

Demyan lightly runs his fingers along my spine and drops a kiss on the top of my head.

I have to tell him.

The fire is warm and the scene is right.

And if he gets mad I didn’t tell him earlier, I can seduce him all over again.

I take a breath.

But Demyan speaks first.

“So, Erin, are you planning on telling me you’re pregnant anytime soon?

Chapter Sixteen

DEMYAN

Erin sits up, turning pale, and grabs my sweater, holding it against her gorgeous tits like it’s some kind of fucking barrier.

Maybe I’m fucking wrong, but I know I’m not. The paleness, the way she shakes, tells me that. I’d hoped when I’d kissed her belly, held it, I’d feel some kind of difference.

But I didn’t.

I know enough about pregnancy and babies that she’s probably not going to show, that it’s so tiny inside her it’s not more than a mass of reproducing cells. I know those cells aren’t going to kick or make her stomach swell, but…

I’d hoped.

Somehow, I’d know.

That maybe I had a sixth sense or that first time we fucked when I found her again I’d knocked her up, but it’s not that long ago. She’s in the first trimester at my reckoning.

She licks her lips and swallows.

“How did you know?” she whispers.

Erin eases off me and looks around for something to wear. I get up and pull on my jeans, not bothering to button them. I’m soft enough I can tuck away, but there’s still the burning need to have her again, to keep marking her until she sobs it out she’s mine in every way, that she loves me with every single cell in her body. That she’ll fight for us, even if that means waiting through this fucked-up Stefina thing.

I shrug. “I didn’t. Not one hundred percent sure, anyway. I knew one of you might be with you both going to see Alina’s OB-GYN.”

She gives me a look that’s like betrayal and I half smile.

“I found her the doctor. I still get alerts when she goes. She needed a guardian to step in when she wanted to go on the pill.” I take a breath, taking the T-shirt I wore beneath the sweater and pulling it on.

Perversely, I don’t want her to find her panties or do up her bra, or put on the dress, so I sit on the dress.

Erin notices but pulls on my sweater, pushing up the two long sleeves.

“She was seventeen—it doesn’t matter. Point is I didn’t know, but you, right now, confirmed it.” I keep my voice soft. “How long have you known?”

Erin sits on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she stares at the dancing flames. Then she swallows, her shoulders deflating, and I don’t think I’m going to like her answer.

If she found out at the doctor, that’s one thing, but… “Erin?”

Her gaze shifts to me, those pretty blue eyes on me, the flames turning her blonde hair gold. “Since before the kidnapping. When I was in hospital.”

I go still.

Fuck. I’m pissed. And I count to ten to stop myself from exploding. I get up and pace, eating up the space in front of the fire like I’m eradicating what we just did. I cut my eyes to her. “Didn’t you fucking trust me enough to tell me? What did you think I’d do? Throw you out? It’s enough that I missed out on all this time with Sasha, which common sense says I should understand, and I do. To a point. But to do it again? Was that your goal? To hurt me?”

“No.”

I stop, breath slow. “Or is it you just don’t love me? Or love me enough?”

“Demyan.” Erin gets to her feet and looks up at me, eyes pleading. “Of course I do.”

“Then what?”

“Stefina.”

I stare at her. “What? Why? How? Stefina? Did she do something? Somehow work it out and threaten you?”

“No.” She lifts her chin. “No, Demyan. I love you and I trust you, I do. She didn’t do a thing; she doesn’t know. I doubt she spares me more than a passing thought. But you’re marrying another woman. You’re marrying her. And I just… what’s going to happen?”

“What’s going to happen is I’m marrying you, not Stefina.”

“Demyan, we both know there’s more to this than marriage. This is a deal. And what if this woman doesn’t want me or the baby or Sasha in your life?”

“I decide that, not her. If I married her, which I’m not going to.”

She nods but her misery rolls oof her in waves and hooks into me deep and I don’t know how to heal this. I love her. Erin.

“Surely,” she whispers, “you can understand my hesitation.”

No, I don’t fucking understand. I’m furious, hurt, and… fuck. Ilya’s words come back to me.

I need to make sure she understands how I feel.

I’m not a guy who’s soft naturally. I don’t do the support group hand-holding stuff and long-ass discussions of delicate feelings. I’m the top of the food chain. I deal in primal. Sure, I make deals, but that’s all head and no heart and this…

This is Erin.

My Erin.

The only fucking woman who’s ever managed to turn my life inside out, and she managed that from when she rose from my bath like fucking Venus.

Back then it wasn’t love, but it was real. The connection, the need. That thing which seared us both and…

I move up to her and maybe she sees something in my eyes because she stumbles back, a mix of fear and excitement in her face as she hits the sofa and sits. I continue until I’m brushing up against her and I go down on my knees, hands on her thighs, and I look her in the eye.

“Make sure you take a good, long look, Lyubimaya.”

“At what?”

I take her chin in one hand. “Me. I want you to look me in the eye and see if what I say is what I mean. I know I don’t say things I don’t mean and you should, too.”

“You told me I wouldn’t see my son again when you found us.”

Shit, that fucking kicks me hard in the gut. But I try to remember what I said. “I was furious, hurt. I was cruel. I know that and I’ve apologized. I apologize again, Erin. I am sorry I hurt you.” I pause. “But I don’t think I ever said you wouldn’t. Just I might not let you and we would see.”

Erin’s eyes narrow and they’re bright, swimming with unshed tears.

What I just said hits hard. “Not my finest moment. Erin… this… all of this is new. I calmed down, I let you out, and we got close. We fell in love.” I stop. “I love you, Erin. I’m in love with you. No one before has come close to you. No one ever will. Okay? And Sasha… he was so unexpected, a perfect little boy, mine. And it was like something I didn’t know was missing had been gouged out deeper.”

“Demyan …”

The strangled note in her voice undoes me.

“No, Erin, I’m just saying I don’t lie about the important things. I love you. I love him. I love this baby. The timing is shit, but who the fuck cares?”

“Me,” she whispers brokenly. “Me. I care.”

“I’m trying to say that I said stupid things in anger, but I didn’t lie. And have I once said anything along the lines of love to Stefina that you’ve heard? Have I treated her with anything more than annoyance or tightly controlled civility?”

She stares at me, eyes darting, like she’s looking for the secrets I don’t have, for the answers I should. She’s searching for assurances. “No.”

I breathe out. “I don’t like her. I find her annoying and idiotic. I should feel sorry for her because I know the life a lot of the women have in this world. Not Alina because my father doted on her and I protected her. But the thing is I don’t. And I’ll get out of marrying Stefina if it’s the last thing I do.”

“What if you don’t, Demyan?” she asks.

“I will,” I growl. “I fucking love you. I own you, you’re mine, and you should know that by now. I’ll risk my life for you over and over. And if you don’t know this, don’t feel this deep down, then there’s something seriously wrong.”

“I know, but I’m just scared.”

“Don’t ever be scared around me, Lyubimaya.”

I lean in and kiss her softly, claiming her sweet mouth, the salt of an escaped tear, the heat and addictive taste of her. I deepen it and she opens for me, her tongue mine, stroking against me, a delicate dance of fledgling trust, and with it the beat of love.

And as I kiss her, I slide my hand up between her thighs, stroking the velvet of her cunt’s lips, teasing her open and pushing two fingers into her. I swallow down her small cry of need, and I relish the heat and tight stretch of her around my fingers, the way her walls cling, the hardness of her clit as I flick it with my thumb, giving her enough of the bite of roughness I know she likes.

Her hips rock, and she moves, sliding forward to get more, but I let go of her chin and hold her hips in place, wanting to control it, to bring her every last ounce of pleasure. Her cunt’s a butterfly against my fingers, fluttering as she builds toward release.

I know her well enough to know how to make it fast and dirty or slow and blooming. And I want it a little of both, so I keep the rhythm steady, a little faster than I would for the slow buildup, but not fast enough to make it a dirty explosion.

She pants into my mouth and I kiss my way over to her ear, sucking in her lobe, biting soft, and then I kiss and lick my way along her throat, settling over the rushing beat of blood of her artery as my fingers continue to thrust deep within her.

Erin’s getting there, and when she’s close, her moans and whimpers fast now, I slip the hand holding her hips between her legs, dip my finger into her cunt, and then I work it into her ass and start to thrust in tandem.

She moans high and comes hard, and I drop down, move my thumb from her clit to lick and suck and work her holes so she tumbles down into another orgasm.

Erin pulls hard at my hair and she’s babbling my name, crying, and it goes on for a sweet forever, the convulsions of her orgasm hard on my fingers, the throb alive against my tongue on her clit.

When she’s reached peak level pleasure and it gets to the point where she starts to try to twist and turn away, I keep going and going, not bringing her another one, keeping her on that knife edge of pleasure and overwhelming her as she shudders and gasps and tries to get away.

It’s only when she begs me that I finally let her go. Reluctantly.

I ease my fingers out of her as I raise my head and come up to her, wiping my mouth deliberately over her tits that are covered by my sweater. And I say, “Promise me.”

Erin gasps. “Promise… promise… you… what?”

“Promise to never keep anything from me again.”

“I promise,” she says, eyes fluttering shut.

Erin’s taking her shower. I had one already, but I opted out of sharing with her. I don’t want to overwhelm her more than I have. I’m not done with her. I’ll never be done. But right now, the need to claim and reclaim her is like she’s my next fix and I’m jonesing.

I had housekeeping fill the fridge and the cupboards with a list of foods, and right now, I’m making steaks. I’m not much of a cook, but I can make a salad, bake potatoes, and cook steaks.

They’re salted and peppered and coming to room temperature. The indoor grill plate is heating, the fan’s on, and the potatoes are in the oven. The note on the prepped potatoes came with instructions. Hasselback it said, and they were wrapped tight. They’re cut into thin pieces along the top, like a fan, and are seasoned, so… putting them in the baking dish and in the oven with the duck fat isn’t hard.

“Cooking. Is… is this going to be a repeat of that breakfast?”

“Sasha loved that,” I reply as she walks up behind me, and I smile as her arms come around me, her cheek pressing into the thin T-shirt I’m wearing. She lightly runs a hand over the crotch of my jeans, making my junk start to swell.

“Sasha’s two. He thinks smashing berries is how you eat. He doesn’t know a thing.”

“He has taste.”

“Do you need help?”

I put the knife down next to the cucumber and turn, pulling her away so she’s facing me when I do. I kiss her long and hard. “No, I don’t need help. Everything came with instructions and I know how to cook steak. There’s even a timer.” I pick up the pink thing and show her. “See?”

“Pink’s your color.”

I remember the pink truck Sasha had me play with. “Been speaking to your son?”

“Did he make you play with the pink truck?” she asks, laughing. “It’s either that one or the bright-green one.”

“He did.” She’s wearing one of my workout shirts. I’m not planning to work out here, but I packed it because I fucking love it when she wears them to sleep in. And I’m so fucking happy she’s put one on. “Dressed for dinner, I see.”

Horrified, she pulls away. “I’ll change⁠—”

“Fuck no, Lyubimaya, I love you in my clothes. Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” I lean in and kiss her ear. “The very reason I packed the workout shirts.”

“Oh, okay.” She smiles up at me. “This… this is nice.”

I’m drinking some whiskey. Even though there’s some beer, I like liquor more. I have vodka, good Russian vodka the housekeeper sourced. But I can drink that like water so I stick to my one glass of whiskey.

“There’s some water in the fridge, or soda. Even some iced tea I had made. No sugar, just in case that upsets you.” Suddenly, I remember a fact that some women get morning sickness at all hours. “You can eat, right? You’re not sick? You should sit⁠—”

“No, Demyan.” She rises on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I get sick in the mornings, but not every morning. I’m fine. Thank you. I can chop if you want.”

“Hell no. I want you here, being waited on. I have spinach for the salad, tomatoes, cucumbers, scallions, and some goat’s cheese. If you don’t like that, there’s feta. And I have some olives⁠—”

“Demyan.” She captures my face. “You don’t need to impress me. I’m already beyond impressed and I didn’t come for a top chef meal. I came to be with you.”

Erin pulls up a stool and sits on the other side of the island. I tell her what’s for dinner and finish chopping the cucumber and throw it into the salad bowl. She steals some. When the timer goes off, I set it again and start the steaks.

“Thank you, Demyan, for taking me away on this weekend,” she says quietly. “I really needed this time. Alone with you, I mean.”

I lean over the island and kiss her. “I needed it as much as you did. My phone’s on silent. Pavel and Ilya are taking care of business.”

“And Stefina?”

I flip the steaks.

“She’s been told I’m busy.”

If she doesn’t buy it, she doesn’t show it.

When the timer goes off again, I put it on again to finish the potatoes and cover the steaks in foil to let them rest.

Then I go around to her side and lift her off the stool, putting her on the counter.

She laughs as I kiss her again, parting her thighs to step between them. On her, cucumber has never tasted so good.

The timer goes off again as I start to kiss her throat. She playfully shoves at me. “Dinner will be ruined.”

“Yeah?” I grin. And I kiss and nip at her throat. “Fuck dinner.”

“Ruined,” she says again, arching to offer me her slender neck.

“You know what, Lyubimaya, I’d much rather focus on dessert. You.”

But she laughs and pushes me away again. “Nope. No way.”

“You’re saying no to special dessert?”

“Hell no, but not right now.” Then she eyes me. “There’s an actual dessert, right?”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

“I want dinner.”

“We can make it dinner.” And I kiss her.

“I want real dinner. I’m hungry and those steaks smell amazing. Besides…” She puts her hands on her flat stomach. “I’m eating for two, remember?”

“Okay, you win,” I say, but as I pick her up to put her on the floor, I put my mouth to her ear. “I would like the jury to note I’d much rather skip dinner or eat the dried-out remnants.”

“Blasphemy. Eating for two. Okay?”

“Okay.” And I put her on the floor.

Our eyes lock.

Damn, she’s fucking glorious, and to me, glowing. I have to say the idea that I’m here from the beginning, from the flat belly to her big and round and giving birth… it’s a fucking turn-on.

I sigh, open the oven, and pull out the potatoes, and as I look at her while I plate the food, I swear to God she swoons.

“Fine,” I say, agreeing as I usher her to the table I’ve set. “I’ll feed you, woman, but after? All bets are off…”

Chapter Seventeen

ERIN

I look at Demyan, perspiration clinging to his naked flesh as I lie in his arms, replete, satiated, and knowing I’m going to be aching for more soon.

“Thanks for dinner last night.”

“Is that all?”

I trace a line along his cheek, and I smile, still getting used to this closeness I’m experiencing with him, one without barriers or walls. “Yeah. Well, there was dessert, but nothing else happened… did it?”

He growls and attacks me, and I scream in laughter as he dives under the covers to go down on me yet again. But as much as I want that, I want him, too. So I drag him back up and push him on his back. “Let me.”

“This is about you.”

“I know,” I say, leaning forward, “this is. I’m very selfish and what I want, what I desire and crave right now, is your cock in my mouth.”

He twists locks of my hair in his fingers, tugging me closer. “Oh, you do?”

“Yes,” I breathe against his lips.

Beneath me, between my thighs, his cock twitches.

We’ve been in bed twice today. He kissed me awake, slowly fucking me and then against the wall in the shower as the hot rain of water came down.

He made breakfast. I could only deal with tea and dry toast, and when my stomach settled, he picked me up and took me back here, stripping off my clothes once more and tumbling me into his specialty of eating me out to multiple orgasms.

The man’s relentless, talented, and mine.

For now, he’s mine. I don’t know what’s going to truly happen with the woman who caused him to turn his phone off in the early hours, but I do believe him when he says he’ll never touch her. He doesn’t ever want to.

But I don’t want to think about that. I want to, if I have to think, think about this, me and him, together.

Right now, I don’t want to think at all. I lean farther down, kissing his chest, my tongue tasting him, that clean showered taste like water dipped in the salt of light sweat from our lovemaking.

He releases my hair, his pale-blue eyes glittering as he watches me make my way down him until I shimmy down to his mid-thighs and his cock as it stands thick, tall, and pearled at the tip with precum, just for me.

I lick his shaft, wrapping a hand around it, lick from the base to the tip, taking my time, tracing the veins that throb, loving the jerk of his cock. I slip my tongue around the underside of the head and then up, over that hot, delicate skin, softness over steel, and I suck down that precum.

Demyan mutters something in Russian. It sounds guttural, dirty, hot. I then open my mouth and work my hand along the shaft as I suck him in deep.

“Oh, fuck yes, you dirty, filthy little cocksucking goddess,” he says in English, before switching to more dirty-sounding Russian.

I start to take him deeper, sucking and licking, bobbing my head, and as he pushes up into me, he pulls my hand from him and begins to work my head down on him so he’s going deep, so deep it makes tears spring to my eyes and I gag.

“Da… yes… so fucking good.”

I let him. I love it when he takes control, when he dictates what he wants and needs. And soon he’s working me hard, harder than I can push myself and he’s hitting my throat. I don’t even know how he fits and I want more of him. I suck harder, lick as much as I can, my mouth filled with drool that leaks out, letting him move me faster.

Then I reach up and take his balls in my hand, massaging, working them. He’s losing control, his Russian harder, more guttural, his hips pistoning up, his hand pushing me down until I’m at the base and can’t breathe. And his balls go tight.

I feel it.

The rush of cum, from his balls and up into my throat and his cock jerks in my mouth as he orgasms, and among all the words he uses is my name. “Erin!”

When he lets me up, I gasp for breath, wiping my face. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard and long and deep until I’m gasping for a completely different reason.

Then the kisses change to long and slow, an exploration of more of me than my mouth. We’re at each other, lost, each kiss dragging us down into a world of our own; they’re just kisses because we can’t get enough, kisses because we want them, we need them.

I’m caught up in him, his air is mine, the heat of his body part of me, and the kisses morph long and deep and soul-wrenching, only to slide back into soft and small sips.

I lose track of time and when his hard cock is at my thigh, it’s nothing at all to roll with him to my back and pull him on top, guiding him to my pussy. He thrusts in and we lose ourselves all over again.

When we come, I lie in his arms, my limbs without bone, my mind floating on a cloud of contentment, his heart beat a lifeline and comfort, all rolled into one.

“I’m glad I’m so brilliant I thought of this.”

“I’m glad I’m so brilliant I decided to come along,” I say.

He laughs, kissing my forehead, his fingers stroking softly and tenderly on my cheek. “You’re my world, Erin,” he says. “You, Sasha, our new baby. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you,” I whisper, my eyelids heavy as exhaustion tugs at me.

This weekend is his way to get us back on track, to rekindle our relationship to where it was before it all went to hell with Sasha being taken and then me. And I feel it, the love, the need, the way we just fit.

I’m not sure how real it all is, as we’re not part of the real world right now. And that’s okay. We need to be away from it to assess, reload, fill the coffers.

To focus on each other.

I think I drift off because Demyan’s standing above me suddenly and the space next to me is cool. He has his phone in his hand, looking at the screen. My heart plummets, but he sits and shows me.

Alina sent a video of Sasha playing, and Kara’s there, too. My boy’s having the time of his life. “I called Kara because he asked about her, and I like her.”

“What’s not to love?” Kara says as she scoops up Sasha. “Say hi to Mama.”

“Mama! Dino Daddy!” He wiggles free and then screams, “Look at me!” And he runs and dances in a crazy circle.

I laugh and clap, and my eyes blur with tears.

Demyan sits next to me and puts his phone down. “She told me she’d give an update. I turned it on for that and to check with Ilya, who said to go away, he’s got things handled.”

I swallow. “Did…?”

“About twenty missed calls and texts, but…” He picks up the phone and turns it off again. “We’ll check in tonight for the next Alina update. The rest of the time is just us. No phones, no business, no worries.” He stands again. “Now get up and get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.”

Get up and go out or stay in bed and be lazy with the guarantee of more sex? It’s a no-brainer. I pull back the covers and motion to the bed next to me. Even though it’s huge, I pat the spot right next to me, where he’d have to be skin on skin.

“Are you bribing me?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“I’d rather stay in bed, Demyan,” I say. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Normally, the answer would be yes, but I have something planned. Now get that sweet ass out of bed and dressed. Now.”

Grumbling, I get up to get ready.

He’s waiting by the door when I emerge from the bathroom. He’s in jeans again, a sight I find hot and sexy but one that takes getting used to, especially as Demyan and suits are melded in my head.

He has a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in there?”

“None of your business,” he says, kissing my nose.

I follow him outside and around the side of the cabin, then he heads out from the well-kept area around the homestead and up into the woods. There’s a path he’s following but it’s rocky, like someone put in their own stone steps that are uneven.

“Where are we going?”

I shriek as I step on a loose stone and almost tumble face-first into the rock and dirt, but Demyan’s strong arms catch me. I clutch at him. “Where we’re going is none of your business and I’ll always catch you, Lyubimaya. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

He takes my hand and we go together, through the thick and heavy bushes. But the farther we go, the more level the ground becomes and the shrubs start to thin out.

Then I gasp.

We’re in a stunning area that’s cool and green, an open little grassy area where there’s a smaller hidden lake down below us and a pretty waterfall that gives the area a sense of peace.

“It’s our own private world. It’s gorgeous, Demyan. How did you know?”

“I’ve been here before.”

My breath catches.

“Years ago with Ilya and Alina. We were working, and she wanted to relax somewhere. The sofa pulls out and Ilya set up a hammock outside. He likes that kind of stuff.” He smiles as he unpacks, spreading out a blanket and setting up a small picnic for us.

“And no,” he adds, “I haven’t ever brought a woman here. Just you. Sit.”

I take a seat, glad I wore the dress and the sandals. I kick the shoes off. He sets out some sparkling apple juice, water, berries, and a baguette that must have arrived this morning as it wasn’t in the kitchen last night.

It’s all perfect.

He pours us a drink. “I’d do champagne, but…” He shrugs. “This is just as good. Better because of what it represents.”

“Agreed.” I pop a berry in my mouth and eat it.

Demyan traces a line along the veins of my inner wrist, down into my palm where he continues, drawing circles, his touch soft, making my stomach flutter. “Things are going to work out, Erin.”

“I… I hope so.”

“I promise.” He meets my gaze and takes a swallow of the juice. “I only agreed to marry⁠—”

“Yes, you told me.” I clutch the glass with one hand tight.

“It bears repeating, Lyubimaya. I got out of it once; I’ll do it again. I only agreed, as it was the only way to get the information to save you. Time was of the essence as they say. And I wasn’t about to leave you in that brute Niko’s hands a moment more than I had to. I’ve never had any intentions of going through with it.”

“I know.”

“Not sure you do. Sergio’s been after a merge, with me, a way to use my power and my resources. I work with him occasionally, but it’s one of those delicate alliances. And even if you didn’t exist, the last thing I’d ever do, ever want to do, is marry Stefina.”

“She’s so beautiful.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “She isn’t. She wears too much makeup, too much of everything, and while I’m sure she’s someone’s wet dream, she isn’t mine. Not ever. You are. Without her father as an influence, I may have liked her more, but I’ll tell you this. Even if she wasn’t his daughter, had more of a heart, more depth, I’d never want her. Ever.”

That catches me hard and I try to breathe slow. All this jealousy for her is for nothing. And I can see it.

I can’t guarantee myself never being jealous of her again, because emotions are irrational things, but I can see he doesn’t want her.

“My heart, Erin,” he says, “is and always will be yours. You just need to trust me, allow the space so I can get out of this without war, if I can.”

“I do trust you,” I whisper.

Thing is, I’m not sure I trust Stefina and Sergio.

“Give me your drink.” I do. “Lie down. I think we should celebrate.”

“How?”

“Like this…”

And he pushes me gently down and pulls off my panties, parting my thighs. The first lick of his tongue is electricity itself, the second a buzz loaded with pleasure.

He starts to eat me out, his tongue thrusting into me, between my lips, deep into my tunnel, and then up, all the way to my clit.

Demyan doesn’t use his fingers. Just his lips, teeth, and tongue and it’s a first-class ride straight into orgasmic bliss. It comes fast and I’m swept up, shattering against him.

Gasping, my morning only gets better as he doesn’t let me return to earth. Instead, he takes me higher by pulling out his turgid cock and thrusting deep in me.

And we fuck until we both come together.

Like we’re signing along a dotted line of love.

Chapter Eighteen

DEMYAN

With time, and I have enough, I can fix this. Work out a way.

Our special weekend a glowing success, a new baby, and the chance to make a happy family and grow my empire further is my future. And one I embrace.

There are clouds over Chicago, and it starts to rain as I pull up outside the mansion.

Sasha screams with joy when he sees us. He’s waiting at the door with Alina and launches himself at his mother so hard I have to buffer her from behind so she doesn’t fall.

“Mama!” Then as she picks him up to cover him in kisses, he peeks up at me. “Daddy? I want a puppy and a kitty.”

My gaze shifts to Alina, who blushes. “It was Kara’s idea to take him to a pet store. We went out for lunch, and he saw the animals for adoption, so she decided to go in.”

Erin groans as I feel my famous stone resolve, crumbling at his ridiculous demand.

“Well…”

Erin turns and narrows her eyes, setting Sasha down. “Hell no. He’s only two. If he wants a pet, I’ll get him a rock.” But her lips twitch as she ruffles his dark hair. “He needs to learn responsibility with a pet.”

“I have staff.”

“Who don’t need another thing to worry about.”

I smile. “It’s their job.”

“You’re not going to win,” Alina mutters, taking Sasha’s hand and leading him off to the kitchen. It’s early enough that he probably hasn’t had a chance to destroy food yet.

I’m not sure if my sister means me or Erin.

“He wants a puppy and a kitten.”

“And last week he wanted a rocket ship and a truck. I think he mentioned a penguin, too.” She sighs. “Point is, sure, the staff’ll have to help out, and you and me, but wait a year or so and he’ll have a better grasp on responsibility. He’s also going to be a big brother.”

I suddenly take her in my arms and kiss her throat, right where I marked her on the weekend. And her soft skin on her chin has some whisker burn I know I should feel bad about, but I don’t. I like it. That physical mark which makes her mine.

“What if he gets jealous?” I ask. “A pet might help with that.”

“No, a pet won’t. We just need to make sure he’s part of it, made to feel he’s still as special as he is.” She laughs. “He’s got the big bad Demyan wrapped tight, hasn’t he? You’re a pushover.”

“He’s our son.”

“And you’d fill this house, turn it into a zoo for him, wouldn’t you?”

“If I said yes, would you hold it against me?” I ask, the teasing note making her smile. “Let’s get some breakfast, see if he’s destroyed the kitchen.”

“I’m just going to have tea and toast in the living room,” she says, hand to her stomach.

Damn morning sickness. I hate I can’t do anything about it, but I call in Olga to get that sorted for her.

“Are you sure things will work?” she asks me as I gather my things so I can get to work.

I look at Erin. “Yes, whatever complicated hoops I need to jump through, I’ve got time. The supposed wedding’s a long way off. And who knows, maybe Stefina will fall for someone.”

“Could that happen?”

I want to lie, say yes and leave it at that, but we’ve turned a page, so I tell her my take on it. “Yeah, but her father’s not going to let her marry someone out of love. I need to find a way out that leaves him his dignity and me my empire and no war. Not if I can help it.”

“Okay. I trust you,” she whispers.

I kiss her softly, then head to my study.

“Got anything?” I ask the moment Ilya picks up his phone.

“Only bits and pieces but nothing to stop a war if you back out. Sergio’s getting antsy. I’m working on a different angle, too.”

My mind ticks. “Like why now with the wedding and what’s his reasoning behind it, other than getting a better standing by marrying into my bratva?”

“I know there are skeletons. If we can find them, then we have leverage. If he owes or did a bad deal…”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Then I turn on my computer. “When are you out? Any word?”

“Soon,” he says. “I’ll let you know.”

I hmm suspiciously, but let it slide. “Well, don’t treat it like a vacation in there with all the pretty nurses. And get to work.”

“Like I’m not working around the clock, sir. You’re the one taking weekends off to romance your woman.”

Having Ilya awake and sounding himself is a weight off my shoulders.

“The sooner I get out of this shit, the better.”

“Agreed.”

And I’m thankful he didn’t say what’s already on my mind, that I’m the one who got myself here. Making deals with a devil. Not even the devil, just small fry, middle management, the fucking worst.

I scan over the missed calls and unanswered texts from Stefina. I don’t need to listen to voicemail to know it’s more of the same. All wedding bullshit.

I’m about to start looking into Niko’s cousin, Rocco, and his outfit, maybe see about a meetup since he’s in town for his takeover, an orchestrated casual bumping of shoulders, when the phone rings.

I pick up without looking and the voice on the other end sends chills through me.

Sergio.

And it’s the gloat in his voice that puts my senses on edge.

“Make it quick, I’m busy.”

“Get unbusy, Demyan,” he says. “You’ve fucked about long enough. And it seems the more rope I give, the more you try to back out. Giving my beautiful Stefina the runaround. She’s very upset.”

“I told her to plan what she wants. I don’t care.”

“Start caring,” he snaps.

“What do you want from me?”

He flips back to pure gloat. “I’m moving the wedding up to next week. I’ve booked everything. Since you’re not interested, I’ve taken over and I’m moving the wedding. It’s all set.”

“No—”

“No? Need I remind you I’m not a charity. I didn’t help you, so you could leave me high and dry. A deal’s a deal or I’ll make it known how you fucked me hard, broke your promises, and left me to rot. It won’t go down well, especially when I spin how you set up Niko and his brother in a grab for his land, how you’re now going after his cousin.”

“I do that and no one will touch you. All but your closest allies will turn and even those won’t want to step in. There’s be a bloody battle that you’ll lose.”

I bite back the tirade building in me. He wants me to lose it. That way, he no doubt thinks he can bargain for a bigger slice. Fuck, maybe he thinks the way out for me is to hand over everything. It won’t be a war. It’ll be a massacre of me and mine, and I’m not about to let that happen.

His spreading rumors aren’t going to hold water as I haven’t tried to seize anything, merely sniffed around. And everyone is doing that.

So I hold on to that temper tight.

“What do you want? We had the wedding in place.”

“I’m not having you get out of it. Next week, Demyan. I want this deal sealed as soon as possible.”

“Stefina—”

“My daughter’s upset, like I told you, Demyan,” he says. “You parade your mistress and her bastard in front of her. Those kinds of people have their place. In the background, unseen, unheard. This is up to you.”

“Fine,” I growl. “But I didn’t upset her. She did that herself. I don’t need to be part of every detail.”

“You’re not. And the details are done. Next week we’ll be family.”

“And if I turn around and say you’re changing the rules?”

“But,” he says, “I’m not. Just in case you didn’t get it earlier, I’ll remind you again that a leader in our world who breaks his word, a word I have on tape, won’t ever be trusted. You’ll be finished. And I’ll make sure the whole world knows. Like I just said. What’s it going to be?”

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn everything. I clench my fist. “The deal stands.”

“Good. I’ll send you the details. Don’t be late to your own wedding. That’s for the bride.”

When he hangs up, only the fact I need to call Ilya back stops me from hurling the phone across the room and smashing it into pieces.

If it wasn’t before noon, I’d have a drink. I call Ilya on speaker and pace the room, swearing and cursing in Russian.

“He’s moving the wedding up to next week,” I say.

“Ya preduprezhdal tebya!”

“I know you warned me,” I answer. “But if I’m going to get out of this, then I need to find something on Sergio and fast.”

“On it.” Then he pauses and says in English. “Tell Erin.”

‘We’re in a good place, and she knows I’m not marrying her.”

“And if you have to, if you can’t get out of it? There’s no deal you’ve made about a prenup, right?”

“No, but⁠—”

“I’ll handle that. Best to have all our bases covered, yes?”

“Da.” The word comes reluctantly. He’s right. I just never pushed this because we don’t usually do prenups in our world.

There is, however, nothing against it. And I don’t know what his holdings are, not deep down. If she comes with trouble and debt, I’m not inheriting it. If I have to go through with it, for even a few days, then Ilya’s right, we need something. And maybe…

“Maybe he won’t want her to sign and that’s the way out.”

“I don’t think we’ll be so lucky. He’d rather you have a prenup and bail him out to save face than have it all break down over a written contract.”

Shit. Ilya’s right. Whatever dirt Sergio’s hiding, a marriage, no matter how it’s spelled out, is worth even signing a prenup.

“Get on it.”

“Done.” He pauses. “And tell Erin.”

I hang up.

We definitely need dirt, real dirt, on Sergio, and fast.

As for Erin…

This… This is going to undo the good of the weekend. I know that in my bones.

I spend half the day in my study, making calls, sending out orders, checking in with sources. But we have to be careful; that’s one thing Ilya and I agree on. Careful, discreet, and quick, a dangerously complicated balancing act.

Finally at four, I pour a drink and sit. No meetings today, thank fuck, because I’m not sure I have the bandwidth. Bad enough, I had a lot of regular shit to deal with. But now…

Yeah.

Now Sergio’s back. Front and center in my head.

Erin and I are going so well; we made great strides this weekend. Even I felt that shift, how we’re closer than before, and I know… I know this news is going to test that. Maybe shatter it.

Because I know Erin.

She’s decent. Not a liar, even if she kept the pregnancy from me longer than I’d like, the fact Alina knew tells me everything. Erin was definitely going to tell me on the trip. I just beat her to it.

But decent is something I’m not. I’m trying to be. I’d more than have her as mine and suffer through an unconsummated marriage to Stefina if that’s what had to happen to keep my little family safe and protected.

Erin wouldn’t. To her it would be a lie. Already the fact I’m engaged against my will is still sitting uncomfortably in her.

I could just lie. Not tell her.

Not that I might marry Stefina because I’m most definitely not. But moving the wedding date.

Right now, it’s far off in her head. Next week is a punch to the stomach.

And the last thing I want to do is destroy our good place.

On the flipside, we agreed no more secrets. And if she finds out from someone else, she’ll be rightly pissed.

Maybe to the point we fall apart.

I throw back my drink and head out. No, the best thing to do is tell her myself. Honesty, right?

Sasha’s whining about not being outside. It’s raining steadily now, and both my sister, Olga, and Erin are trying to distract him. I can see him pressed at the glass in the kitchen and he looks back and sees me.

“Dino, park!”

“No park, Sasha. You’ll get wet.” Erin tries to pull him back from the window, but he throws off her hand.

A sly little smile turns his mouth. “Park.”

I almost laugh. He wants to play in the rain.

“No park today,” I say. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

His eyes light up. “The big one?”

“The big one.”

Then Erin turns her face to me, and her smile slips. “What is it?”

“Can we talk in private?”

She nods and I lead her into the living room where I sit her down.

“There’s been a development.” I run a hand over my face. She stares at me, hands clenched, and my heart lurches.

But I have to say it. I’ve never shied from the dirtiest of work my business, my world demands of me to keep alive, to thrive, and I’m not tumbling at this. Even though telling her the truth seems so much worse than killing a man with my bare hands.

I release a breath. “Sergio wants the wedding to take place next week. Ilya and I are working hard to find a way out, and we will. But you deserve to know the truth.”

She doesn’t say a word. But then she quietly nods.

“Thank you for being honest, Demyan.”

“Erin, this is something I’ll work out. I just have to do it sooner than I thought. We have options, too.”

“Options? Like marrying her?”

I grit my teeth. “I didn’t say that.”

She nods again. “You’re in a difficult situation. I get that, I do.”

“But?”

Erin goes quiet again. And the air is so thick I can barely think or breathe.

“But,” she says, “I’m also not going to stand around and watch this mess unfold. It’s not good for me or the baby. Or Sasha.”

I swallow, my throat raw, chest tight, and I want to lock her up. I want to fuck her until she’s senseless with need. I don’t move.

“I’m asking you for support, to trust me.”

“I can’t support you marrying someone else. How can I? But I do trust you.” She stands up and takes a step toward me, then stops. “And that’s not enough, Demyan. This isn’t about you betraying me or giving up. It’s you being caught and I know if you can’t get out of this, then you have to.”

“No—”

“Yes. I listen to what everyone says, and if you don’t find the right way out, you’ll destroy all you have, maybe yourself, me. Sasha. I can’t allow that and I can’t stand with you.”

“That’s not trust.”

“It is, with a healthy dose of reality.” She sucks in a breath and turns. “I need to think. Sasha and I are going out for a while.” Erin reaches for the door.

I don’t trust myself enough to move from where I’m standing. “Where the fuck are you going?” I demand.

“I need tonight, Demyan. You have to let me go tonight.”

The word no is pushing at me but I force myself to look at her and I say, “Where are you going?”

Erin opens the door and looks at me, and it’s not anger or fear or disgust that floors me. It’s sadness. “We’ll go to Kara’s.”

Fuck. “Erin.”

“I can’t be here. I’m sorry.”

“Erin,” I say again, not asking how long, just… I need her to understand. “I’ll send you with a driver.”

“No.”

“Yes. It’s the only way that I’ll let you go.”

She presses her lips together. “Okay. Fine.”

“But you need to understand one important thing. You’re the only woman in my life.”

She takes a shaky breath and her hand on the door shakes. She’s so close to tears I don’t know what to do.

“I believe you, Demyan, I do, but you’re running out of time.”

“Is that an ultimatum?”

“The truth,” she whispers, voice ragged. “I’ll never stop you from seeing your children, but they can’t be with you and her, and I refuse to be your mistress should this wedding take place.”

She steps out the door, closing it behind her and shattering my fucking heart.

Chapter Nineteen

ERIN

“OMG!” Kara cries, sweeping me into a hug and a cloud of soft summer flowers with a hint of spice. “A surprise visit. Yay! I just got home from work. Are you here a while? Do you want to order pizza? It’s a shitty night with the rain, but…”

She trails off as she releases me and takes in my face.

Sasha marches in. “Daddy and me park tomorrow!”

At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he says. He goes to his room and starts dragging toys out.

I love the fact Kara has a room for him.

And I look at her to tell her this and burst into tears.

She immediately sweeps me in and shoves me on the sofa, then rushes off to return with wine and two glasses.

I look at her and cry louder. “I can’t. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, is that all? I was worried. I’ll order the pizza and I’ll have the wine…” She gets me a soda and a big glass of chocolate milk for Sasha. She slides me a look, then turns on the TV which he plops in front of, immediately captivated by whatever cartoon is on.

“I’m good, we just decided to visit.”

“First, congratulations. I thought the tears were hormones, but your face says otherwise, so spill the hot tea and tell Aunt Kara what’s wrong.”

I toy with my soda. “Is it that obvious?”

Kara raised a brow. “I’m your best friend, remember?” She pours herself the wine. “I can always tell when something’s wrong. You just threw me with the pregnancy thing.”

The tears start again, and I gulp them back, the story coming out in fits and starts.

“You told me about the Stefina thing. And so did Alina. But she said it’s not for a long time and he’ll get out of it.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand. This Sergio has forced Demyan to move the wedding to next week. How the fuck is he going to get out of it?”

“Erin… he promised to marry another woman, and he tells you he can’t get out of it? From all accounts, he’s very powerful, very rich. Are you sure this isn’t something he wants?”

Her words hurt, but if I was in her shoes, I’d ask the same thing, and for the briefest moment, I wonder if I’m being a fool, believing him.

But he’s being honest and that must count for something, right?

“No, I don’t think he wants it.”

She takes a sip of her wine and taps her fingers on the bench. “Thing is, powerful means he should be able to get out of it, and why did he get into it in the first place? More power? He might not want her, but he wants something. I’d hate to see him hoodwinking you.”

“He wouldn’t.”

She sighs. “After my asshole brother, this all just proves you’re too good for most men. You deserve the world. You deserve a man who should just fight for you, not have you as his bit on the side.” She looks at me as she takes my hand. “Are you sure he’s the right man for you?”

I start to cry again.

“Because from where I stand, Erin, you deserve better.”

“Kara, I love him. He’s the father of my children. He hasn’t hit me or hurt me or cheated on me. H-he did this to save me.” The whole business of being kidnapped and what he did to get me back comes out and she just stares. “I can’t… I know it’s not any of what you’re saying. But I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“Your brother was right, he’s dangerous. I like Alina, but look what happened to Max. It could have happened to you, too.”

“He saved me. Ilya got shot for me. But staying and having him marry her, if that’s the only way, just might kill me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper brokenly. “Is it unfair to say loving him and him being the father of my children might not be enough?”

“Fuck no,” she says. She straightens. “You’re staying tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll get a bunch of things and you can stay for the week. See what happens.”

I nod. And I text Demyan.

And he texts back.

Demyan

Just tonight?

Me

Yes.

And feeling like a liar, a traitor, and the weakest person on the planet, I put my phone down, knowing I don’t need to check to see if there’ll be anyone outside watching. There will be.

Kara doesn’t push me. There are times she will and times she won’t, and this is the latter. We settle and talk about her love life, about the baby, my morning sickness, the waves of apparent tsunami emotions, and, of course, how Sasha wants a pet.

“You’ll have to get him one.”

I look at her. “Really?”

“The poor little thing, how can you be cruel?”

“You and Demyan both,” I mutter, catching myself.

After Sasha’s in bed, our pizza demolished and Sasha full of cheese and sauce and sausage and chocolate milk, a terrible combination that just might make his little tummy ache later, we sit and talk.

Kara finally says, wiggling her toes on the rug as the TV plays, sound mostly down, “You have to make a decision, you know that. What if this is just the first time in a line of other women. And I don’t mean sleeping with them, but his world… surely these marriages happen, and my concern is the reason he hasn’t found a way out is he doesn’t want to. This might suit him.”

“But—”

“After all, he could have it all. The wife with money and power attached and the woman he fucks and has his babies. You don’t strike me as a harem kinda girl, Erin.”

I glare at her. “It’s not that. It’s… he proposed to me. We had a romantic weekend where he promised he’d get out of this.”

“And yet it’s moved right on up, this wedding.” She rests kind eyes on me. “I don’t know, Erin. I don’t know what to think. I don’t really know him. And while I don’t blame him for knocking you up and leaving a fake name three years ago, I do blame him for this mess. Love isn’t a get out of jail free card.”

“He isn’t asking that,” I say.

“Isn’t he? Demyan wants you to trust him but he’s still engaged.” She turns to face me fully. “I care about you, not him. You.”

“I know, and I love you, too. This is so messy and complicated.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

And I know she’s right. I feel it, know it, deep inside. I want him to throw caution to the wind. I don’t want him to risk himself and all he has, either.

“Did you tell him about staying for the week?”

“No, I’m not sure if I should.”

“Don’t. Wait until tomorrow. Then see what he says.”

And I just agree.

Sasha and I have a full day. He grizzles because Demyan said he’d take him to the park today. There’s a small one near Kara and though it’s still cloudy, it isn’t raining so we spend the morning there. After we buy groceries, the guard is very helpful in carrying everything, and I suspect he’s under orders to not only stick close to me but to make sure I don’t strain myself.

We then check on Ilya, who’s off the machines and is getting ready to be discharged.

“We went to the park!” Sasha says. “Me an’ Daddy. We went down the slide and in the maze and on the jungle gym and he chased me and bit my tummy.”

He nods, proudly lifting his shirt to show his pristine and very unbitten belly.

Then he confides, “It tickled.”

Over the top of Sasha’s head, Ilya gives me a long look. “We’re working on it. Hard. Problem is, Sergio’s the kind of ba—guy who will make life hard. He’ll do what he can to bring Demyan down. But I think he might do that anyway.”

“Control?”

Ilya shrugs. “Meeting with Demyan soon. Call him later.”

When we leave, we head back to Kara’s, the driver helping us unpack and put things away. He’s got his gun and an earpiece, too.

Kara returns early, catching the guard leave and admiring his tight ass as he goes. “Nice.” Then she points at me. “Text him.”

I do. I feel like a traitor telling Demyan I’m staying for at least a week.

“Well?”

“I just texted.”

But the thing is, he doesn’t text back and a darkness starts to weigh me down.

Someone starts banging on the front door and Kara marches off, opening it.

“Where the fuck is Erin?”

My heart leaps. Demyan. He storms in, face a thundercloud. Clearly, he didn’t take my text well but Kara’s got a small satisfied grin on her face. “I didn’t ask you in.”

“I wasn’t looking for an invite. Erin, get your things.” Sasha runs at him.

“Dino!”

He picks him up, holding him close, kissing him as Sasha clings to him and looks so proud to be taller than everyone in the room. And with his Dino.

I swallow hard, my eyes swimming with stupid tears. “Demyan, I⁠—”

“No, I gave you last night. One night, Erin. One fucking night. Enough. You and Sasha are coming home with me. I refuse to let you run from me again.”

“Make it worth her while, Yegorov.”

“Kara!”

But Demyan shakes his head. “She’s right. I’m not letting you go, Erin. I’m going to call this fucking wedding off with Stefina. And fuck the consequences.”

I can’t move. For a whole beat I can’t move. Then I lick my lips. “You can’t do that?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“But… but won’t Sergio be angry?”

“Bad Sergie,” says Sasha, not knowing who we’re talking about.

“I can handle him.” He holds out his hand. “Come with me. I’ll take you out for dinner.” Then he casts a glance at Kara. “You too.”

“No, I’ve got work to do tonight.” Then she steps up to him. “Hurt her and I’ll hurt you.”

He smiles and swings his attention back to me. “Well?”

I hesitate, then put my hand in his. How can I not?

We say goodbye to Kara and head out, and Demyan asks Sasha, “What do you want for dinner?”

A terrible question to ask a two-year-old, but I know what he’s going to say.

“Pizza!”

“We had that last night, Sasha.”

He frowns over Demyan’s shoulder. “Pizza!”

“Pizza,” Demyan says, chuckling, “it is. I know the best place in town.”

We drive to a small family pizza joint. It’s not upmarket, but it’s sweet and real and it’s cozy and Sasha loves it. And it’s absolutely nothing like what I imagine Demyan knowing about, let alone liking.

We’re in a little bustling Chicago neighborhood, and as I look around, feeling like a real family out together, I lean in. “This place isn’t exactly your style. Or it doesn’t seem like your style.”

He raises a brow and smiles. “There’s obviously a lot you still don’t know about me.”

“Obviously. But if you start wearing boat shoes and pastel sweaters tied around your shoulders, I’m out.”

“Noted. I’ll get Olga to overhaul my wardrobe.”

I laugh, but he turns serious on me.

He picks up my hand, kissing it. “Erin, I meant what I said, and I hope you stick around long enough to find out all there is to know about me.”

“I thought you were fancy dinners and swanky parties where you do business deals. I thought it was all… you know… excitement.”

“There’s danger, yes, but it’s not all that, and this, you and Sasha? You’re excitement. And this, dinner in a cute little place like this with you is everything to me. And the fact that our little family is growing makes this even more special.”

I smile, his words touching me, so I lean over and kiss him and it turns passionate.

Sasha bangs on the table. “Yucky,” he says.

Chapter Twenty

DEMYAN

The hospital doesn’t look any different, but it feels different. Or maybe it’s just me.

Ilya’s finally being discharged.

And I’m happy to not see this place again for a long time.

I go to his floor and his room where he’s in his wheelchair, one I got for him. He gives me an irritated look as he hands a tablet back to the member of hospital staff there.

“You’re released,” she says and taps the manila folder on the pile of things on his lap. “Behave or else you’ll be back in here.”

“This place is like a prison.”

“You bet your ass. You have early release due to good healing, but screw it up and parole’s canceled.” She laughs and heads out, giving me the once-over. “Take care of him.”

“Come on, let’s get your lazy ass home,” I tell him in Russian.

He puts on a disgusted expression. “Do I need to be in this idiotic thing?”

“According to the hospital, it’s a nonnegotiable part of the deal of you leaving. Wheelchair for the next few weeks to allow the stomach wounds to fully heal.”

“How am I going to shoot fools in this thing?”

I laugh and I push from behind just to annoy him as I got him a state-of-the-art, top-line chair. He can go manual or automatic with it and it even has a little desk attachment at the mansion. I’m betting by the end of his time in it, he’ll be using it to work from.

That or Sasha will wreak havoc on the household.

And I grin at that.

“You can’t,” I say as we get in the elevator. “Shoot people.”

The person in here with us clearly doesn’t speak Russian.

“I have a lot of pent-up frustrations.”

“Sorry, my friend.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. “You’re under strict orders to rest. And I’ve hired a team of nurses to look after you.”

“Old woman,” he spits, trying not to laugh. “I don’t need help.”

“Around the clock care, Ilya. And it’s nonnegotiable, too.”

He snorts, clearly thinking he’ll get out of it, but he won’t. I mean it. Ilya’s my best friend and he almost lost his life protecting the woman I love. I’ll give him an army if he needs it. Anything at all. I owe him.

“Are these nurses at least female and cute?” Ilya wryly asks.

I laugh and shake my head as we reach the ground floor and cross the foyer to the outside. Pavel is there with the car, waiting. He helps the annoyed Ilya out of the wheelchair and to the car while one of my other men folds the chair and put it in the back. I get in next to him.

“Well, Boss?” he asks. “Are they super cute, stacked, and in a very short and tight uniforms?”

“They’re blonde.”

“Good start.”

“And according to those in the know, hot.”

He grins. “And the uniforms?”

“Fitted.”

“What about stacked?”

“Hmm, they’re all tall, muscular Swedish men, so if you mean well hung, I didn’t inspect them. You can do that.”

He narrows his eyes. “I’m glad you’ve still got a sense of humor. I know you got at least one female.”

He’s right. But I chose the medical staff on their credentials and references, not on anything else.

Ilya taps his fingers on the armrest as he sits opposite me. “I’ve got some leads, but nothing concrete to move on at the moment. I’m hoping that’ll change,” he says. “How are things going with you and the unwanted bride to be?”

“Stefina? I haven’t seen her since I got back.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m planning on telling Sergio today the wedding’s off.”

“Demyan. Don’t play dangerous games. Are you sure it’s a good idea? As I said, I’ve got leads and one in particular… I wasn’t going to say anything until I found out more, but it feels good. I’m waiting on confirmation on whether to pursue it from one of my men. Give me a day or two and you might have a legitimate reason to end the agreement. One that doesn’t come with the risk of war.”

“Everything comes with the risk of war,” I say. “And it can’t wait.”

He studies me. “Erin.”

“Erin.” I sigh. “She’s not taking it well, and I need to prove to her my loyalty’s to her.”

“I thought you did that on the weekend. Did you⁠—”

“She’s pregnant.” I cut him off. “She’s hormonal, pregnant, and feeling like she needs me to show her in no uncertain terms how I feel.”

There’s surprise all over his face. “We aren’t normal people. There are rules, Demyan. We need to observe them or we can lose everything. And everything includes lives.”

“I’m aware.”

He nods and taps his hand some more. “Pregnant? Not that far along as she’s always too skinny, but… how do you feel about that?”

I grit my teeth. “At first, I was angry, so fucking angry.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t rush into ending the agreement with Sergio.”

“No, not at the fact she’s carrying my child, but… It was a reminder of how much I missed of Sasha’s life and she didn’t tell me right away this time.”

He looks out the window, then at me. “That isn’t her fault. It isn’t yours. It just is, Demyan. Let that anger go. No one knew she would get pregnant and you left a fake name. Being told you were dangerous, a bad man or someone not to get mixed up with, I might not seek you out, either. If I was her. And if you switch places, you’d feel the same. Not to mention the guilt eats her up.”

“Maybe.”

The anger is still there, deep, stubborn strands I know I need to let go of.

“Plus, you punished her to the point of cruelty. The fact she loves you? That’s special. You want that, not old anger.”

“Hospital made you soft.”

“Hospital let me think. And being shot and nearly dying let me figure I should say what I think.”

“Since when don’t you?”

“I have some control.”

I snort. “I am determined to put the past in the past, Ilya. I want to focus on the future. But I can’t do that until this thing with Stefina is over.”

“Because Erin isn’t of our world, she doesn’t get it.”

“No.”

He studies me. “Would you? Marry Stefina if Erin was of our world?”

“No.” I don’t even have to think about it.

And Ilya smiles and closes his eyes. “Good.”

The good vibes last right up until we pull up at the gate.

There’s a car waiting and I know who it belongs to. Ilya and I exchange a look, but I wind my window down to motion them in.

Stefina shouldn’t be happy at being made to wait for me outside the mansion gates, but there’s a sweet smile on her face, sweet like Stevia, that horrible overly sweet-tasting natural sugar substitute, as she bounces out of the car and waits on the steps as we set Ilya up.

Alina must have said no to letting her in.

Or Erin.

But while Erin’s got backbone, I can’t quite see her pulling that mafia queen move. Alina? Oh yeah.

She has an oversized tote with her.

“Did you hear from Daddy?” she asks me. “It’s such great news and aren’t you glad I went hardcore on picking things out? The wedding’s next week. Daddy said to choose between Friday and Saturday, I’m thinking Saturday.”

She’s conveniently forgetting how she told me the reason she was going hardcore was to secure the right people in time for our far-off wedding. But since I’m not marrying her, I let it slide.

“What do you think, Demi?”

Dem—Ilya makes a choking noise and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Stefina, you’ve been misinformed. There’s not going to be a wedding.”

“What?”

“You deserve a man who loves you and I don’t.”

She splutters and narrows her eyes. “Is this about love? And you’ll learn. Daddy said⁠—”

“Stefina, I’m in love with Erin. The mother of my child. In fact, she’s pregnant with our second child and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“So dump the suka. Christ, you’re young and hot, not a dad kinda guy. Let her bring those shits up.”

Ilya grabs my wrist before I can move and squeezes hard.

“You should be careful. You’re talking about my children. Their mother. You don’t want to be with a man in love with someone else and you sure as fuck don’t want to be a stepmom. Do you?”

“Two words. Boarding school. And the suka can go work the streets. She’s not worth more than that. Isn’t that where you got her from? Probably got knocked up on purpose.”

“Demyan.”

Ilya’s warning rolls off me and I shake off his hand. I stalk up to her. “You keep insulting them. That’s more than enough for me to cancel the wedding. I’d rather marry a viper than a classless piece like you.”

“Bastard!” She hisses at me. Actually hisses. “No one speaks to me like that, no one. You’ll be hearing from my father.”

With that, she flounces off, getting in her car and roaring out at breakneck speed.

“That went well,” Ilya says.

I open the door. “I’ll show you to your big burly nurse and to your room.”

Ilya’s fussed over by Olga, Magda, Alina, Erin, and Sasha. In fact, Sasha has to be held back because he doesn’t understand he can’t climb on and walk on Ilya. I know he wants to show his love for the man, but one hand that lands dangerously close to his healing injuries and his pained wince is enough for me to pluck Sasha off.

The little boy wiggles to go back. “No, Daddy. Bad! Uncle Ilya needs me.”

Erin laughs and groans and Ilya looks super touched and I… I melt.

This kid’s big-hearted and kind. He’s two, so he has his share of acting out, but he’s got a sunny disposition and his kindness comes directly from his mama.

Fuck, maybe if I’d known about him, she should have kept me from him. Even though I hate I lost that time, he’s old enough that he’s teaching me to be softer in some ways, to open up.

Well, him and Erin both.

I slide an arm around her as the nurse comes out, a middle-aged woman who looks like she could wrestle Ilya and win. He throws me a look that’s accusing, but hey, I didn’t hire anyone for looks, just for their skills. I just shrug at him but his smile that he tries to hide says he doesn’t mind.

“You should rest,” the nurse says.

He waves her away. “I need to work.”

“Quietly.”

“Fine by me. Do you mind, Boss?”

I sigh at his deliberate use of boss in that way, but I know we need to get on this Sergio thing and fast.

It’s maybe thirty minutes later that I get the call from the gate.

I go and find him. “Sergio’s here.”

“Want me out there?”

“No.”

He grimaces.

“Not because of the chair. I don’t want him to know you’re back or what’s going on. I don’t even want Pavel in the room.”

I head for my study, making sure that Erin and my sister and Sasha are tucked away, too.

One of my men leads him in. “Vodka?”

“How dare you upset my Stefina.”

“Please. You don’t care enough about her happiness or you’d find her someone she loves and someone who adores her, wouldn’t you?”

I hit a nerve because he flinches. It’s subtle, but I clock it. “Stefina knows the game, this world. The wedding is⁠—”

“Not happening. She insulted my woman, my children. That’s not okay, Sergio. I won’t even enter into a marriage of convenience with someone so disrespectful. There are others, find one. Vodka?”

“No.” He looks me up and down as I lean back in my chair. “You really want to make an enemy of me?” Sergio asks.

I shrug, getting up and showing him to the door. “You know what, Sergio? I’m willing to risk it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

ERIN

Sasha’s with Alina, and Olga, but I refused to go. In the living room with his study door open, I can hear what’s been said—mostly—in Demyan’s study.

And even if I couldn’t hear most of the words, it’s clear Sergio’s furious and making threats. But the thing is the man’s loud and I hear them.

Hear him tell Demyan he’ll finish him and wipe the floor with him. Destroy his empire and rape his business. He’ll kill all of his people.

All that and more after Demyan told him he’d risk it.

I pace, biting my fingernails, my stomach churning hard.

Demyan walks in and my knees almost give way. He looks both like he’s added a different weight to him but also flung off the previous baggage.

“It’s done.”

“Demyan, I⁠—”

“The wedding, the arrangement with Stefina’s done and dusted.”

I open my mouth to speak again, but I hesitate.

This is what I wanted all along, but the threats and Sergio’s tone. Hell, I never really considered how angry he’d be, what this all meant.

I was just consumed by my own emotions and I didn’t think of the wider picture, and now…

Sergio basically just threatened not to only financially destroy Demyan but end him. And I don’t think that was metaphorical. I think he meant it in the biblical sense.

I swallow hard.

Have I just put Demyan in more danger? Sasha?

But I know that Demyan’s strong, the strongest man I know. And I saw what he did to Niko for me. Demyan can take care of himself. Still… have I gone and just made everything harder for my man?

“Demyan,” I whisper, “I heard. What Sergio said. I didn’t think, didn’t realize just exactly how serious all this was. I was selfish. If you need more time, maybe you can go to him and work⁠—”

He holds up a hand. “Stop.”

“Have I caused even more problems in your life?”

He comes up to me and offers me a small smile, his pale-blue eyes glittering with warmth. And he cups my cheek with the palm of his hand. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“What, you think I’m scared of that ass? No, Erin. I was looking for the easiest route, but sometimes that’s not the right one. I’ll find the way. It’ll be a harder road, but I guarantee it’ll be better in the long run.”

“That doesn’t sound like it’s okay,” I say.

He kisses me softly. “I’m a big boy. I thrive on the difficult, on challenges. And more importantly, I can take care of those I love and myself.”

“But—”

“Ask Alina, ask Ilya, ask anyone here, and they’ll tell you they’re with me the entire way and that I’ve always taken care of things. I’ve built my father’s empire into something bigger and better and I’ll be fucked if I’ll let a small fry like Sergio take it all away from me. It’s done, and I feel better about it.”

“You said that the reason you were sticking with it was not to rock the boat.”

He sighs and strokes his other hand through my hair. “The thing is, trouble was coming because, as I said, I had no intentions of marrying her. I’m still working on it all, but I just finished the sham of the engagement. That’s all.”

At the door, Ilya speaks. “He’s right. Better it’s done now.” Then he turns to Sasha, who’s pressed against the wheelchair, all puppy dog like he’ll get a go in it if he keeps it up. “Leave Ilya be, Sasha,” I say as Demyan steps away.

“Okay, Mama!” He looks at Ilya. “I love you more if you take me for a ride.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ilya says, chuckling.

Demyan meets the man’s gaze. “Anything?”

“Not yet.” And he wheels off, grumbling about not being allowed to walk.

I want to keep talking to Demyan, but it’s clear he’s said his piece on it, so I bend down to Sasha. “Uncle Ilya’s hurt, Sasha, so he can’t give you a ride yet.”

“When he’s better.” Demyan ruffles his hair.

Sasha looks from me to Demyan. “Tomorrow?”

“This kid,” he groans. “Soon, Sasha.”

He picks up our son and Sasha hugs his daddy.

My heart swells at that. My boy’s taken to his father in such a short time frame, and more than that, Demyan’s bloomed with Sasha’s pure love. He dotes on him and doesn’t care who sees. He’ll break a man in two, but he loves Sasha.

I don’t know, maybe he’s a bad man like my brother said, but he’s so good to our son, and he’d been good to me, too. Even when he was so furious he locked me in that room, he never lifted a finger, and he’s apologized for the rest. That means something to me. Right or wrong, it means the world.

“You know, Lyubimaya, I haven’t spent enough time with Sasha over the past week. I feel bad, so why don’t we go out? Dinner? Ice cream?”

Sasha’s eyes light up. “Ice cream!”

“Okay,” Demyan says, laughing. “Ice cream for dinner, just the three of us.”

And it’s time. I think. Time to let Sasha know. To get him used to the idea he won’t be an only child.

“Well, the four of us,” I say, smiling at the confused look on Sasha’s face.

“But Mama…” He counts on his fingers using all of them. “There are one five ten of us. You, me, and Dino.”

“No, there are four,” says Demyan. “Three plus one more is four.”

“Four?” he repeats, looking perplexed.

“He doesn’t quite have the hang of counting.”

“He’s two, give him a break, Mama,” Demyan says, putting him down.

“Yeah, Mama. Break me.”

I swallow laughter at Sasha mangling the words.

But Demyan gravely goes down on his knees next to Sasha and motions for me to sit. I do.

“Four is you, me, mama, and the baby.”

He frowns. “My goat?”

“That’d be five,” Demyan mutters, then catches the shake of my head. “No,” he says a little louder, “the baby makes four. I know you wanted a kitten or a puppy, but we’re having something better. A baby.”

“Where?”

He takes Sasha’s small hand and puts it on my tummy. “It’s very, very small, much smaller than your smallest car, but it’s growing, here in mama’s tummy.”

“You have a baby, Mama?”

“Yeah, Sasha. There’s a baby growing inside me.”

“How?”

Demyan opens his mouth, looking horrified, and is about to say something but I cut him off.

“In nine months you’ll be a big brother.”

“Me?” He’s immediately interested. “Can I make the baby play?”

“One day, yes, but first you’re going to help mama and we’ll go shopping and you can pick out things for the baby.” Demyan says this like it’s a good idea. All I can imagine are pink trucks and baby goat plushies.

“A big brother is a very important job, Sasha,” I say.

He thinks about it, then he smiles. “I want the baby now!”

Sasha’s chosen ice cream is truly disgusting, with gummies and sprinkles and chocolate sauce.

He’s covered in it by the time we reach the park, the one Demyan took him to when I went to the doctor and I think they’re both showing off with the swings and slide and other equipment.

Actually, I don’t know who’s having more fun, Demyan or Sasha. And it makes my heart light and full and sing.

I cleaned my son with wet wipes as best I could and I’m left on the bench—my choice—holding the dripping, melting remnants of Sasha’s treat. I could have joined them, but I wanted Demyan to have this moment with Sasha, and to witness it is something special.

I can almost see the bond’s thread growing stronger by the second.

When they come back, Demyan motions me to come over, so I walk to them with the drippy ice cream for Sasha, who plonks down immediately to finish it.

“Good, huh?” Demyan asks as he sprawls next to me, hand resting on my thigh like it’s the most natural thing.

Sasha glances up and nods. “Yummy.” Then he takes in the fact that we don’t have one and he reluctantly holds his up. “Dino want?”

“Nah, that’s yours, Sasha.” He grins. “Besides, I shared mine with mama.”

“And the baby?”

Demyan’s gaze shifts to me. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” And Sasha proceeds to eat and wear the rest of his ice cream.

When he’s finished, before I can clean him again, Sasha tears away.

“Watch me!”

And he starts to play.

“You spoil him,” I say.

“I want him to have everything I didn’t,” Demyan says after a moment. “And a little spoiling never hurt anyone.”

“Stefina?”

He flinches and I wish I hadn’t made the joke. “There’s spoiling with treats and there’s raising someone to be self-entitled and replacing love with materialistic things. I’ll spoil him within reason. But right now? I want to make up for some lost time. I want to show him we’re a family and I love him. It’s ice cream.”

His words make my eyes swim with unshed tears. “And pizza and pets⁠—”

“He doesn’t have a pet.”

“Yet.”

Demyan shakes his head and laughs. “Can I get him a pet one day?”

Oh God. I smile and as he sits up to steal a kiss, I drop my forehead to his. “Obviously. One day. When he can learn to look after it.”

“Yes, Lyubimaya.”

I’m still concerned about Sergio, but Demyan did what I wanted, and I trust him when he says he knows what he’s doing.

He also chose me and Sasha and the baby.

Demyan pulls back. “Do you want a big wedding?”

“Not really. I never thought about it. The fanfare isn’t what it’s about, is it? It’s the love and commitment, at least, that’s what I always thought.”

Then he floors me.

“Let’s elope.”

“What?” I manage.

“Let’s elope. Go somewhere tropical. Like Aruba. Just you and me and Sasha. We’ll bring Ilya, Alina, and Kara, too. Let’s do this. Soon. What do you say?”

I stare at him, trying to breathe. “I thought you were talking hypothetical.”

“Do you want to do that, having something small? Because who else do we really need?”

“No one. No one at all.”

“So, how about it? Elope with me?”

And happiness blooms bright inside. “Yes, Demyan. Yes!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

DEMYAN

Ilya hobbles to the desk to look at something on my computer.

“Where’s your nurse?”

“I sent him on an errand. Exactly how many did you hire?”

I wheel the chair to him and motion for him to sit, which he does, begrudgingly.

“You know I hate this thing.”

“This thing is keeping you out of the hospital.”

He mutters some choice words in Russian that I ignore.

We’ve been working hard for the past few days. And I’m sure Ilya’s working as close to around the clock as he can get away with. I’ve had meetings, letting select people know of the change in plans about this wedding.

Sergio hasn’t announced it from the rooftops but some know what his coming ‘party’ is about. I keep it simple. It didn’t work out. Let him spread whatever. The less I say, the better and the cleaner I look.

There’s going to be fallout, whatever happens, but it will be minimum level fallout if I cut the head from the beast and have all the dirt I need. Like the connection between this Rocco and Sergio.

“We got anything?” I ask.

“Nothing yet. If there is one, Sergio has covered his tracks well.” He frowns at his tablet. Then up at me. “The only thing I’ve managed to find out is that Niko’s younger brother⁠—”

“Vince? The one who wanted nothing to do with the business?”

“People change their minds,” Ilya mutters, “or there’s something else at play. I don’t know. Yet. All I know is word’s out that he’s been overlooked for the cousin, Rocco.”

Now I frown. “Look into that, speak to him, and we should try to talk to this Rocco, too.”

“Demyan, if he’s got connections to Sergio, then that might not be smart.”

“Keep it on the backburner,” I say. “What is the word? Loud? In the open or whispers?”

“Whispers. Very low ones, but they’re there. Like I said, words out if you know how to look.”

So not enough for Vince to lose his head, but enough to register on Ilya’s radar.

We can work with that.

“Speak to the brother. If he’s pissed enough, he might take a risk and join with us. There’s a difference between not wanting to rule and wanting to live off the spoils. If the cousin’s coming in from elsewhere and from a big holding, then he might be into absorbing or doing a deal with Sergio⁠—”

“Or both,” Ilya says. “Sell off some and keep the rest. He might not care if he gives Sergio enough to be a menace. This isn’t his territory.”

“Speak to Vince, get the lay of the land, and we’ll deal with this Rocco when we need to. But if Vince feels overlooked enough to want to step in after so long of not having a thing to do, something’s going on. We should look into Rocco, too. Deep.”

“For?”

I sigh. “Dirt, what his outfit has to do with Niko’s.”

“They’re family, so they’re connected.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The family is a mix of Russian and Italian, so we don’t know. No interference, just a poke around.”

Because if Vince got pushed out or chose to go a different path due to Niko’s choices, then he could be good for Chicago. Good for me. And maybe he’ll be happy to side with me if his cousin and Sergio going down gives him control and power.

“There’s something else,” I say.

Ilya turns his chair, the soft whir filling the room. “Lay it on me, Boss.”

“Erin and I are planning to elope to Aruba.”

“Fancy.”

I grin. “Not really, but nice, warm, pretty, and a simple wedding with no fanfare.”

“The word is intimate.”

He drives the chair to the wet bar and gets the vodka and two glasses, then returns to my desk and pours drinks.

“Will you be my best man?”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? The answer is yes, but we do this now, you do this now, and Sergio will retaliate. It's just a matter of when.” He wraps his hand around one glass of vodka.

I know what he’s doing. “I’m not afraid of Sergio. And you know marrying Erin is the most sane decision I’ve made in a very long time.”

“Da, it’s true, but my friend, now?”

“Now.”

He nudges the other glass to me. I pick it up and he raises his. “Za tvoye zdorov’ye!”

“To your health,” I say back to him, also in Russian.

We drink the liquor down.

“Are you sure, Demyan?” Erin asks, sitting on our bed.

I turn to her and sit, moving close, then I kiss her. “More than anything. We’ll fly to Aruba next weekend, and we’ll exchange our vows on a private beach. It’ll be perfect, a romantic beach ceremony with our family and friends. And then we can have an intimate dinner at a fancy hotel.”

“A fancy hotel?”

“I have one in mind.”

“How intimate can a dinner be at a fancy hotel?” she asks, a blush brightening her face to a rosy glow. She’s so fucking gorgeous I can barely stand it. I trace her lips with my finger.

“Fancy doesn’t mean big. Do you trust me?”

She searches my face and leans in, kissing me softly. “Yes.”

“Good. While our friends party, we have our honeymoon and don’t get out of bed for a week.”

“And Sasha?” There’s laughter warming her voice.

“Auction him off to the highest bidder?”

She sits back and counts on her hand. “You want to make money from friends and family. It’s going to come down to Ilya versus Alina in terms of funds, but Kara’s wily and⁠—”

I grab her, rolling her under me so I can make out with her for a while. I’m hard, always so fucking hard for her, but I roll us so she’s on top. I curl a hand through her hair.

“Speaking of money, I’m paying. Accommodations, flights, everything, so everyone invited gets there.”

She frowns. “You don’t mean Ilya or Alina.”

“I do. And Kara.” I pull her in and kiss her again, her lips soft and warm, sweet.

There’s excitement in her face, and she suddenly pales. “I don’t have my passport.”

“I have connections. You and Sasha will be fast-tracked. We do it and you’ll get it in days. I promise.”

She breathes out, the excitement returning. “I’ve never been outside the country.”

“Then this will be even more special. I’d marry you in the backyard, Erin. In a heartbeat. But I want it special for you. And this is going to be it.”

“I can’t wait.”

I laugh. “Sounds to me you’re more excited about the trip and the trimmings than marrying me.”

“Oh, I am.” She punches me lightly on the chest. “I’d switch you out for anyone.”

I growl low. “Anyone?”

“No. I could never marry anyone but you, Demyan,” she whispers, sliding down so she’s almost lying on me. “Just you. And that’s what I’m excited about. Okay, I’m excited for Sasha to have an adventure, too.”

“Sure.”

But she sobers up and frowns. “You know that’s not true, right? I was kidding about the anyone. I mean it that there’s no one else I’d marry. No one but you.”

“Of course I do, Erin. I’m not that much of a fucking idiot.”

She doesn’t melt back into me.

“What is it, Lyubimaya?”

Erin sucks in a breath. “Are you worried Sergio might do something? I know how angry he sounded when you called off the wedding.”

I drag her to me and kiss her thoroughly, biting softly on her lower lip before releasing her. “Erin, I told you I’m a big boy. I can handle him. And everything’s under control.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Nothing’s going to come between the two of us getting married. In fact, since Sasha’s napping and we’re here all alone, I think we should practice for the wedding night.”

“Practice?”

“It makes perfect, you know.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Her hand slides down my side. “I do want a perfect wedding night…”

I start kissing her when her phone starts to buzz. “Ignore it,” I murmur, giving her tiny bites of kisses.

She returns the kisses but her phone keeps buzzing.

And she sighs, rolling off me. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I don’t think it’ll stop.”

“Who is it?” I ask as I get up.

She picks it up but doesn’t look. “Kara.”

Guilt tinges her features and I have to bite down on a smile. “Really.”

Erin nods.

“I… I arranged for me, Kara, and Alina to go wedding dress shopping.” She bites her lip. “I didn’t think you wanted to be involved. It’s not done. And it’s not going to be anything fancy⁠—”

“I don’t want to know,” I say, holding up a hand to stop her.

But she looks so miserable and guilty that I take her phone as it buzzes again and I answer. “She’ll call you back in two.”

Then I hang up.

“Demyan!”

“Erin. Go shop, spend as much as you’d like. Buy some outfits for the girls and for you. Not just wedding stuff. And get a little outfit for the wedding for Sasha, too. And things for the beach.”

“He doesn’t need designer. I don’t need designer.”

“Did I say designer?”

“No.” She still looks slightly stricken.

“Lyubimaya,” I say softly, pulling her to her feet and kissing her cheek. “Shop, have fun. Take care of the bills. Alina knows where I keep the card. I’m glad to see you forming such a close bond with my sister. After all she’s been through… it means a lot to me.”

Erin shrugs. “Alina’s a great person; she’s not exactly hard to like.”

“Go make your call.”

She does and I go in the en suite to get ready. I’m not sure if I have to go out, but I shower and put on a suit, just in case.

Erin did a quick change and she’s still on the phone when I come out. “…I’ll get Sasha and Alina and I’ll pick you up. See you soon, Kara!”

When Sasha, Alina, and Erin leave, I go to my study.

I make the calls I need to and I have a meeting to collect some payments, but as I head out, my phone rings. It’s Ilya who clearly disobeyed orders and left his chair behind because he isn’t here and I can hear the sounds of a bar behind him.

Climbing into my car, I say, “Speak. What do you have?”

“Good news. I spoke to Niko's brother, Vince.”

“And?”

“He’s agreed to hand over evidence you need in order to prove that Sergio was double-crossing you.”

“And this from a guy who hasn’t been interested in the business?”

There’s a pause, and Ilya sighs, then switches to Russian. “Vince didn’t want the dirty dealings or the path Niko was heading on. And Rocco’s empire? That’s part of Niko’s. He gave it to him to run for him. It’s one of those secrets no one ever thinks to dig for. Seems you played nicely into Rocco’s hands. He wanted to move into Chicago. He’s playing nice right now until he can solidify with Sergio.”

“And me?”

“They were hoping to marry you off and take you for all you have.”

“And they’d have the biggest crime empire over half the states.”

“So this marriage was under false pretenses?”

“Yes.”

Inside, something starts to lift. “Can we trust Vince?”

“He wants to play things more like you. The cleaner, more modern way. But it was made clear that wasn’t how his family was, so he played their rules or was out. He took the out and waited, since he was promised it if his time came.”

“As long as he didn’t kill any family.”

“Obviously. This is good, Demyan. The fallouts so minimal all it’ll do is shake the snakes from our trees. And then whatever Sergio has is open season.”

“Fucking phenomenal work.” I’m pumped.

It’s the ammunition I’ll need to go after, Sergio, and take him down for good. I’m not starry-eyed. Ilya’s framing it all in fairy-tale terms. Things will be messier and nothing’s set in stone until it is.

But if Vince plays straight, in exchange for his help, the man will be given control of Niko’s operations, all of them, as well as some of Sergio’s territory once he’s taken down. That we can split.

Things are finally looking good.

Chapter Twenty-Three

ERIN

Kara grins. “I for one can’t wait to see Sasha in those outfits. Which one for the wedding? My vote is the little blue tux!”

I shouldn’t have bought it, the color is azure and makes his blue eyes glow. And he’s so fucking adorable in it I almost lost my shit and cried about three rivers then and there. But he saved me by asking what we’re getting the baby to wear.

The girls just fell apart laughing.

“I’m not sure a tux is okay for a beach.”

“Tell Demyan I made you get it.” Alina nods at Sasha as we go to the next shop, one Kara picked, which has swimwear and lounge gear.

It’s a fun day and we seem to buy out half the stores on Chicago’s Gold Coast, with pretty dresses and even two outfits for the girls, who’ll be my bridesmaids. I let them choose and they color coordinate in a lavender of differing dress cuts that flatter them both.

“What are you going to get for your dress?” Kara asks, as Alina plays with Sasha.

I shrug. “Not sure. Just something casual. Maybe this place has a nice summery dress.”

They’re all designer, after all.

“No way. We’ll get some going out things here, and maybe for you and Demyan if you have a night out… or in… but you need a real wedding dress.”

“It’s the beach. I’ll know it when I see it.”

But Kara’s having none of that. She turns to Alina. “She wants a summer dress for the ceremony.”

“No way, Erin. Demyan will want you in a real dress. Come on, there are other places.”

With a sigh, I wait as she pays for the purchases and we head out, one of the guards taking the purchases to the car. There’s one with us constantly that I can see but I’m betting there are more, knowing Demyan.

But I’m not about to let that bother me. He’s not doing it to watch and make sure I don’t run. He’s doing it to protect me and his sister and Sasha. And Kara. Anyone with us, he’ll protect.

I don’t want some elaborate wedding dress and I push Sasha in his stroller, listening as the girls banter about the trip and the wedding. Kara travels but she seems to be looking forward to this like it’s something special. And Alina sounds just as excited.

We pass some fancy shops and I catch sight of a wedding dress shop, some wild and fairy-tale thing in the window, but what snags my attention is the other side of the window, sleek and sophisticated, and next to that a dress that’s simple and romantic.

“Do you want to go in here?”

Kara’s already half in the door and Alina stops, looking at it. “This is where I got my dress,” she says, hesitating, then she breathes in and takes the stroller and maneuvers it in.

Horror hits me and I rush in, too.

Oh God. She lost Max on their wedding day, and that was only a recent thing. She’s been doing so well with her grief I… I don’t even have an excuse for my faux pas.

Here I am, dragging her not just out to shop for wedding dresses for me, but at the same shop?

I hurry to her, hugging her. “Alina, I’m so insensitive. I didn’t think. I’m sorry. We can leave. There’s a nice little restaurant back up the road. I’ll just pick something up in the next few days. We’ve done enough.”

“Erin.” She eases out of the hug as Kara runs her gaze over us and then takes Sasha’s stroller to look at some jewelry, knowing sparkles will distract him.

“I should have thought, Alina.”

“Stop, please. Thank you for thinking of me,” the dark-haired beauty says, “but I want to do this. Max wouldn’t want me to stop living and he’d want to be part of this, so he is with me here. And I’m having fun.”

I throw my arms around her and hug her again. “Anytime you want to leave or it’s too much, we’re out of here.”

“And miss this?” She smiles, but I see a little sadness mixed in and maybe that’s okay, that’s how it has to be. “Besides, left alone, you’ll probably get some cheap sundress, and then we’ll all have to deal with my brother in some fancy-ass suit, ready to bite my head off.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be in a fancy suit,” I say, lying. It’s Demyan. He has fancy everything. “We’re eloping, remember?”

“I know, but he might be keeping it simple, but he wants it classy. Demyan is very detail oriented. I think you know that. If he gave me the unlimited card, he wants us to spend and make this memorable and you in your dream dress.”

I swallow hard. “I guess I’ll try some things on.”

Both Alina and Kara pick a pile of dresses and I drift to the simpler ones, picking some of them out.

I go and change. The first one earns wedding cake from Kara and Stefina-like from Alina. Which is fine by me. I don’t like it.

The next dress is too fussy for me. The two of them settle in, Sasha with a juice box and the girls have champagne. And not one of the dresses has a price tag on it, which scares me.

Personally, I don’t care what I wear. I’m happy that Demyan’s proving himself, and my feelings for him have been validated by the cancellation of the fake marriage plans with Stefina. For the first time it’s like our relationship’s equal.

But Alina’s right. Demyan wants me in something I think is perfect. And he is into detail. If I just grab anything, he might feel let down, and…

With the little tux, and if I find something perfect, then I think it’ll be the perfect start to our marriage, a real new beginning.

I look at the dresses in the big changing room and I sort through them, finally picking out some very simple ones, a sophisticated one and at the last minute, one that either Kara or Alina chose, calf-length, fitted but with lace.

I show them a few more and they select two to put aside. Then I try on the lace one.

And I know.

This is it.

I walk out and the girls stand.

“Mama!” Sasha says. “Pretty.”

The girls are gushing, and I stare at my reflection. The gown fits tightly with a scoop neck and the satin ends mid-calf. But the lace… It brushes my feet and near my throat with its intricate and delicate design. It’s utterly gorgeous, managing to be romantic and simple and sophisticated, everything at once.

It’s tight and accentuates my still-flat tummy. And when Kara holds my hair up, it looks even better. Since the wedding’s next week, we don’t need to get it adjusted.

The dress is absolutely perfect. And it looks good even with my bare feet.

After I get changed, the dress is taken away and boxed up. And the girls are looking at beautiful combs in the display box.

They pick one that I’m not allowed to see, and that gets bought, too.

When we’re finished, Kara has to rush off to work and Alina, Sasha, and I spend the rest of the day noodling around. The day is perfect.

The next day, Sasha’s with Alina and Demyan and I head to the OB-GYN clinic. I didn’t see him all morning, but I’m guessing that’s part of the deal with marrying a man who heads his own empire, who runs part of Chicago.

He doesn’t say much as he drives us there, and when we pull up, instead of excitement lighting up his face, he seems distant, like his head is elsewhere.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing, just got a lot of work going on.”

I swallow. “You don’t need to come.” It’s the ultrasound, so I don’t want him to miss it, but we can always reschedule that since I’m also booked in for a checkup.

“And miss seeing my kid for the first time? No fucking way, Lyubimaya. I’m where I want to be.”

We go in and wait and my stomach is a knot of nerves. This is going to be my first ultrasound with this baby, and I’m nervous, excited. What if something’s wrong?

I’m called in and I have my checkup, with Demyan remaining outside. When he’s called in, Demyan enters calmly, almost like he’s reserved about it all.

Or something else.

I take his hand and draw him close as we wait for the technician and the doctor to return. “Demyan … is something wrong? Because it seems like something’s wrong.”

His pocket starts to buzz, but he just pulls out his phone and turns it off. “Everything is fine, like I told you.”

He squeezes my hand.

When the doctor and technician come in, they expose my stomach and the gel’s cold. Demyan’s eyes are fixed on the screen as the technician moves the wand to find the baby.

“There it is. See?” The doctor points out the tiny thing. “Heartbeat’s good, nice and fast, and where it should be at eight weeks.”

“Is… is everything else fine?” I ask.

“Everything looks great and your health’s perfect.”

When the doctor leaves, the technician smiles. “Would mommy and daddy like a picture?”

“Yes.” I look at Demyan, who’s still staring at the screen. “Thank you.”

When we get our picture printout, I’m left to clean the gel and I wait. The nerves grow as Demyan still looks reserved, his face unreadable.

He holds the picture, staring down.

“Demyan? You’re scaring me. Do… do you not want to do this?”

But he doesn’t seem to hear me. Then his mouth turns up. “It certainly feels real now that I’ve seen our baby on that screen and have this photo. How perfect is he?”

Oh hell, I’m going to cry. I blink fast. “It could be a girl.”

“I don’t give a fuck. It’s ours and I’ve seen him or her right from the beginning. The first picture.”

He kisses me long and hard.

Then he pulls out his wallet and carefully tucks the picture in.

Relief floods me.

Relief for the fact Demyan’s happy.

Relief the baby is healthy.

Relief I’m not doing this alone.

All through my pregnancy with Sasha, I was so worried. I didn’t know what to expect; I had to do it alone. Well, I had Kara, but I didn’t have the father, and it seemed okay, but with him now, I can see it wasn’t. What I wanted was him. Not just any man, but this one. And now… now he’s here.

This time, I’m looking forward to it all. With Demyan where he should be.

By my side.

Chapter Twenty-Four

DEMYAN

I don’t know. I’m still fucking stunned. We drive back from the appointment and I try to find the words, but I can’t. My emotions are mixed, tumbling, and in my pocket is a picture so damn heavy it’s pulling at me.

It’s sitting there, next to the phone where my wallpaper’s now Sasha. Before I just left it factory fresh.

Shit.

I can feel Erin’s gaze on me and her worry stings the air.

But those words don’t come. It’s not fear for the new baby or that it’s more important than Sasha, or even, God forbid, I don’t want it.

“Demyan?” she asks. “I know there’s something. You were distracted when we went in and I buy that you’ve got a lot of work. But not now. You got quieter in there, apart from your very pretty words designed to make me feel better.”

Crap. I grind my teeth, still searching for something soft and palatable to give her from the whirlwind inside me. “It’s all good.”

“No, it isn’t. Or rather, I don’t know what it is,” she mutters. “Thing is, if we’re going to get married and make it work, then you need to be honest. Good, bad, ugly. And we’re not always going to like each other. There’ll be fights. There’ll be times I’m going to be so angry I hate you, but I’ll always love you. And love only works if we bend with it and have open communication. Talk to me.”

She’s right. Fuck me, is she right. “I don’t know,” I say, still searching. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do. Say it.”

I breathe out. “I’m glad I saw our baby right then and there when it’s so fucking small. But damn it, seeing the ultrasound just reminded me of everything I’ve missed. All that time I lost with Sasha because of your lie.”

My words seem to scream in the air. And they get worse as the silence stretches.

“I could say that you left a fake name, that I didn’t know you and the warning I got… But you’re right. I might not have lied to your face. But I could have ignored my brother’s warning.”

Fuck, I need to invite him to the wedding, too. I slot that in the back of my mind.

And guilt washes over me at what she’s saying.

“I could have tried harder; I could have demanded the details he dug up. But I didn’t, and for that I’m sorry. Sorrier than you could ever know. I’m sorry, but while I can’t change the past, I can promise you’ll miss no more of either of our children’s lives.”

When we walk inside, the house smells good, which means Magda’s cooking even though dinner isn’t for a few hours at least. But Olga is there and she smiles.

“Sasha’s just gone down for his afternoon nap, but he had one earlier so I can get him up if you’d like?”

“No,” Erin says, yawning. “I could go for a nap right now, too.”

I kiss her forehead. “Go, have one. I’ve got work to do anyway.”

As Olga disappears to do housework, Erin says, “I mean what I said, Demyan.”

“I know.” I ignore the twinge of something that feels like guilt. “Go and nap and I’ll wake you before dinner.”

She nods and starts across the foyer, but I pull her back. “Do you want to invite your brother to the wedding?”

“Can we?” she asks, eyes shining. “He might be too busy, but⁠—”

“Consider it done.” I kiss her, wanting to make it clear all’s good between us. Then I release her, watching her climb the stairs.

I’m about to head to the converted room for Ilya when I hear him shouting and the nurse comes out of my office. This one is younger, pretty, and looking close to tears. I let her pass as I head there instead.

“You go out without your damn chair, you yell at the pretty nurse and… where’s your wheelchair?”

“I don’t want that thing.”

“Tough. You’ll use it.” I march off and grab it from his room, telling the nurse to take the evening off, full pay, as I go.

I park it next to the sofa in my office, but he ignores it. “I don’t want it. I’m sitting, see?”

“When you need to get around.” I glance at him and then the door. “I’ll change my office lock so you can’t get in next time.”

“How is that a threat, asshole?” he asks. “It’s not. Besides, I can pick locks. Didn’t I teach you?”

“Bad influence,” I mutter. I sit in the wheelchair and whizz back and forth in it, just to annoy him. “How are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m healing much faster than they thought.”

“Is that a Doctor Ilya thing or a doctor doctor thing?”

He leans forward and switches the chair to manual. “I had a checkup. And I do use the chair. Just when I was at that bar, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to look weak. It’s important. You know that, Demyan.” Then he shakes his head. “I’ve got a cane to try out, and I’ve been cleared to fly. I have to take this piece of shit with me, in case I need it.”

He kicks the chair, narrowly avoiding me.

“That’s great news, Ilya. There wouldn’t be a wedding in Aruba if you weren’t cleared to fly. I’m not getting married without you there, my friend.”

He looks me up and down. “What’s up?”

I pull out my wallet and hand him the picture. “My baby.”

“It’s got your eyes.”

“Nice.” I laugh but then sober up. “It was surreal seeing a part of myself on that screen.”

He holds up the picture. “Oh yeah, I can see that. It’s very… you.”

I snatch the picture back and look at it. “But it was more than that. I was hit by how much I missed of Sasha, and I got… I don’t know… not angry, but that darkness came up. All I lost from her lies.”

He sighs heavily and mutters something not nice about me in Russian that I let slide.

“What?”

“What?” He shakes his head. “What? This again?”

“I told her.”

“Dam—”

“She asked and said we need honesty so I told her and she said she was sorry again, that she didn’t lie to my face, but she was wrong.”

“Of course she said that. Demyan, your father was a cunt, to put it nicely. And you’re not him, but he did things, lied, withheld love because either he wasn’t capable or he liked being cruel. I never liked him. You’re not him, never was, but this grudge? You learned that from him. Unlearn it.”

“I didn’t blame her. I told her how I felt. Right or wrong, it’s how I felt. Feel.”

“Did you say right or wrong? Did you tell her you know she didn’t lie? I mean, you left the false name, she found out who you were from the viewpoint of what you are. And she protected Sasha. I’ve seen how she punishes herself. You’ve made her apologize a lot, Demyan,” he says, motioning to me for a drink.

I get up and pour us a couple of vodkas and I hand him one.

He takes a deep sip. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Apologized to her.”

I frown. “What for, Ilya? I never knew about her being pregnant or giving birth, so I just got reminded of that.”

“Enough for me to know you still hold on to that. Have you apologized for hurting her? What about lying about your name so she couldn’t find you on her own?”

I down my vodka and shove a hand through my hair. “Look⁠—”

“It goes both ways is all I’m saying.” He shrugs. “Hurt feelings. Deal with yours and let her know she didn’t lie. That she did what anyone outside our world would do. Have your feelings but say they’re not completely rational.”

“Aren’t they?” I know he’s right. I think it’s why I brought this up. I need him to whip me into place. Out of everyone, he knows me… not best, but most honestly. And he’ll give me the brutal honest response. My sister will be diplomatic and, well, my sister. Erin’s too close.

“The girl’s no gold digger. She just wanted her son, one she didn’t know if you even wanted, to grow up safe. And you? I thought you had this sorted already. So what’s the real problem?”

I take a breath. That is the real problem.

And then I stop.

We’ve talked this through. I handle the little waves of loss when they come up so why have I turned it all to the point she asked me for the absolute truth.

And it hits me that I didn’t give it.

What’s the real problem?

“I’m scared. Not all the way because I’m fucking excited and full of hope and love and all the rest. But a big part is scared. I’m scared this happiness will blow up in my face.”

He doesn’t say a word but he manages to push himself up and hobble over to the vodka to refill his glass. He brings the bottle and tops off mine.

I’m about to tell him he shouldn’t be walking but his expression shuts that down.

Ilya wants me to dig deeper.

“I’m scared of what another child means. I’m learning on the go with Sasha. Learning to be a dad. But a toddler and a baby? Fuck, what if I screw up? What if I can’t handle it?”

Ilya claps. “And there we have it.” He smiles. “Demyan, you’re worrying for nothing. You’re an amazing dad already. You’ve got this.”

“Okay. Talk over,” I say because my throat’s getting scratchy. “Let’s work on this thing with Vince…”

Later, I check in on Sasha who’s just waking up. I tiptoe out but leave the door open because there’s a guard up here and Olga will be by soon. Besides, I figure I’ll wake up Erin, tell her I don’t think she lied, that I don’t blame her, that I’m just a little scared. And I know to do that will take a lot of fucking bravery, way more than me looking down the barrel of a gun like I’ve done on more than one occasion.

Shit like that has nothing on this.

But when I walk in, she steals my heart, my breath, and probably years from my life at how fucking hot she looks sleeping.

Christ, I’m not even old and I’m already a pervert. But who’d convict me for finding my fiancée hot and sexy in her disheveled state, the sheets tangled around her.

I lock the door and climb on the bed, right as her eyes flutter and she stirs, opening those pretty blues and looking up at me. She trails a hand over my cheek and down my chest.

“Erin, I’m sorry I said you lied. You didn’t. Things happen. And I’m sorry, too. I’m just… scared.”

“Why? You’re a good man, Demyan.”

I almost laugh at that but I kiss her hand as I capture it and pull it up from my chest.

“And you love Sasha. I’ve never seen him take to someone like he has you. You’re a good father. A little soft…”

The wicked light in her gaze hooks me deep and I kiss her slow, trailing my tongue along her lips, and as they open, I taste her depths, her tongue whispering along mine, sending shivers dancing through me.

I undress, because fuck dinner, it can wait. I pull the covers from her and slip my hand between her thighs as I kiss and suck at her throat, her moans feeding me more than food ever could.

Wet and hot and willing. I part her lips, outer and inner, and push two fingers into her, thrusting as I find that spongy nub inside her tight canal and I rub it each time, my thumb teasing and working her clit.

I’m hard against her as she rocks into me. I’m aching and I kiss down to her tits, biting and sucking each peak.

Soon, they’ll be sensitive to the point I can’t. And that spurs me on. I don’t care that’s months away; I like the idea of her changing with our child, of certain things being on a timer right now. And I know I’m going to have to read books to find what she might want or can take after the baby, what level we can go to before the baby when the birth’s close. Shit, am I going to be jealous when the kid feeds⁠—

“Oh my God, you’re suckling and it feels so good… What are you thinking about?”

I let the nipple pop free. “Sex. Before and after the baby.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Just working on a game plan.”

“And?” she gasps.

I start to finger fuck her in earnest, building her until she’s almost coming. “I think we’ll be getting as much in as possible beforehand.”

“Fuuuck…” Her body starts to clench and squeeze and I back off. “Good plan and don’t stop.”

I smile at her, biting her lips, and then I kiss her so damn hard my own head spins. I pull out of her and part her thighs, lining up and thrusting into her deep. I need her ass soon, I know that. Her ass, her from behind, her mouth. I need her in all the positions. But this is so good. I’m slamming into her so fucking deep that my cock is basically saying prayers of thanks for the tight hot sheath it keeps thrusting into.

She feels like home and the most exotic thing. One I know. I tilt my hips so her clit rubs against me and it makes her give strangled moans. And when I force her legs wider, higher, her hips move into that position where I hit the G-spot hard every time.

And fuck, does she squeeze me, like she doesn’t want me out. But it only makes reentry better.

The beat of our fucking has a life of its own, one that fills my blood with thrills and the air with sighs and moans.

I slam into her harder.

“Yes!” she cries. “I’m going to come!”

“Good.”

I let go, my balls tight, cock that good ache and the rush of endorphins comes on a wave of pleasure as she comes, screaming, her body clenching my cock so hard it’s hammering blood in my ears as I come, too.

But the hammering continues.

And a little voice says, “Mama? Dino? I’m hungry. Where you?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

ERIN

Two days later, we arrive, not at O’Hare, but at a private airfield. I stare at Kara who shrugs, then at Alina, who grins.

“What did Demyan do?”

A beautiful flight attendant comes out into the waiting area where we just arrived. Three of Demyan’s men have our bags. I argued with him, but he insisted. We girls go ahead early, with security, of course.

But I didn’t expect… this…

A luxurious waiting area that’s completely private and a sleek jet waiting not that far from where we are. I can see it through the glass wall.

“Are you all ready? The captain said we can board early. I’ll show you boys where the bags go to be checked.” And she winks.

I turn back to Alina. Sasha’s tugging at Olga from where he’s standing, his stroller packed up, and he’s staring at the plane, agog, while talking at her in excitement.

“Well?”

“The jet’s part of the experience. Demyan booked it, so no arguments. Surprise?” She ushers me in front of the window and Olga picks up Sasha and hands him to me. “Say cheese.”

“Plane!” shouts Sasha, as Alina clicks the camera on her phone.

My new passport’s scanned, as is Sasha’s, and it’s like stepping into another world when we step on the plane. Olga and the guards disappear through the back to where there are seats for crew, according to Alina, but we’re in the lap of luxury. There’s a bar, couches and chairs, and apparently there’s even a couple of bedrooms if anyone wants a nap.

It’s a pain to get Sasha strapped in, but we get him in there, and then the attendant serves snacks and champagne, with some apple juice for Sasha. I ask for a mocktail, and she comes back with something refreshing and bubbly and tropical.

Kara laughs. “I’ve flown business and once I got upgraded to first, but this… it’s another level.” She pokes Alina. “Do you always fly like this?”

“Sometimes. It depends on what Demyan’s doing. Dad used to have his own private jet, but Demyan sold it, preferring to use a private company. Other times, I like to live like the other half.”

I smile into my drink. I’m not sure I can ever get used to this level of luxury. When the seat belts come off, Sasha has his nose to the glass to look down at the world below.

“To you, Erin,” Alina says, “for helping Demyan be all I knew he could be.”

“To Erin!” Kara clinks glasses with us.

“No,” I say, “to you both for helping me. And being so good to Sasha. He’s got a big family now.”

“Is Tom coming?” Kara asks.

Alina frowns. “Tom?”

“My half brother.” I smile. “He sends his best, but he’s on a job he can’t get out of. You know Tom. Always busy.”

“I’m your real family.” Then she looks at Alina and taps her glass to the other. “We are. Me and Alina. Sisters from other misters.”

I laugh. “Is that gross? I can’t work out if it is or not.”

“So, let’s get real ladies,” Kara says. “Bachelorette night. What’s the plan?”

“Nope, I’m not⁠—”

But they cut me off, laughing and giggling as they plan outrageous things, strippers, skinny-dipping, bar crawling. Penis tiaras.

I don’t protest. I let them get it out of their system now. A big smile keeps blooming, bursting up from deep inside.

Everything seems perfect. From this flight to my new and old found family. From Sasha to Demyan and the baby. All of it. And I can’t believe how excited I am for this wedding.

Not the clothes or anything, but Demyan with his dark hair that’s sprinkled with gray. Just enough to deepen the sexiness of him, and for the first time, I wonder what he’s going to wear. A tux? Swimming shorts? Chinos and a Hawaiian shirt?

The last one makes me laugh but the girls don’t notice, no, not that. And I don’t care. All I care about is the commitment and him. All I care about is Sasha and the baby. Our new future.

All I care about is in a few short days, I’ll officially be Mrs. Yegorov.

I can’t wait.

When we get to the exclusive and luxurious resort that has little thatched cabins that go out on boardwalks into the crystal-clear blue water, we check into our suite.

Alina looks at me as she opens the curtains. “Don’t go crazy on your unpacking for you. Demyan has plans.”

A thrill passes through me as I put on the new swimwear, and then I fuss with Sasha and his sunscreen.

“Olga’s here for a reason, Erin.”

The maid smiles. Her hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing jeans and a nice T-shirt. She takes the sunscreen.

“He can’t swim⁠—”

“Erin?” Kara gives me a shove. “Relax.”

“I can swim. There is the baby beach and the complex has pools. He’s safe,” Olga says.

Alina nods. “She’s here so you can have fun. And you trust her. She loves Sasha so you can feel comfy leaving Sasha.”

“But…”

“Dino’s orders.” Alina grins.

She looks so happy that I can’t resist. I kiss Sasha, who’s asking about the turtles and if he can have one. He’s so into trying to get Olga to give him a turtle I don’t think he notices the girls drag me out the door.

The girls are right. I’m in Aruba. I should have fun with them. “Where are we going, the pool?”

“Hell no, this place has a private beach and cabanas. We’re going there.”

The beach is so gorgeous that I know I need to have fun, but I keep fretting about Sasha.

“Relax, mama bear,” Kara says. “Our boy’s fine. We’ve got a private bar just up behind us, deck chairs, swimming, shade, soft, soft sand, clear water, and sun. Plus, all the mocktails your pregnant ass can stand.”

“Here.”

Alina thrusts her phone at me and Olga’s looking stunning in a bathing suit, and a floatie-clad Sasha’s splashing in a pool with other kids. I’m guessing the parent of the kid he’s with took the pic.

I start to relax as I rub sunscreen on and the beach fills up. “This is private?”

“You should see the public ones.” Alina laughs as she lies down on a deck chair.

The air’s electric and it’s like I’m in a sea of models. I want to send Demyan a photo and I go to take a selfie so I can text him with a missing you message, but my phone’s snatched away.

“No phones.” Alina drops the phone into my bag.

“I just want to text him I miss him.”

“No phones,” shouts Kara.

“Fine.”

I relax and let the sun warm me. When it gets too hot, we go for a swim and the sea’s incredible, the fish, everything. There are turtles, but apparently, we have to come in the morning to see those.

Some people snorkel but we just splash around, no different to Sasha, really. Another pang hits me, different to the one for Demyan.

But if I even think of getting out the phone, they might just throw it in the ocean. Besides, I trust Olga and that photo was everything. My boy looked so happy.

I hope that we all get to go away as a family. I’d never ever ask Demyan to quit his world as I don’t think it’s a job, it’s a lifestyle, but I hope he’ll take time for us.

I remember when we met, how serious he was at that bar, and how intense in the room. I’ll keep intense. I adore intense Demyan. But I love soft Demyan, too. The secret Demyan that loves and hurts and laughs. My Demyan.

Maybe it’s my job to make him take moments to⁠—

Water smacks me in the face. I sputter and Kara shakes her head. “Stop drooling over your man hunk. You have a lifetime to do that. This is for us.”

“You know what I need?” Alina says. “I need a stiff drink.”

“So do I. Seltzer. Straight up.” And I laugh.

“Fuck your seltzer, I’m having a gin.” And Kara wades out of the water, the soft waves lapping.

We sit and let the sun dry us, and the girls discuss tonight. “There is a strip show.”

“Kara, I don’t need to be Magic Miked.”

“Plus,” Alina adds, “Demyan might break legs.”

“Not ours?”

“No, Kara,” she says. “Those poor, hot men.”

“Dancing.” Kara slaps down her little guide pamphlet she must have taken from the hotel. “There’s a nightclub that could be fun. And it also has a pool.”

“It’s a plan. We can get spa treatments first,” Alina says. “What do you say, Erin?”

I make a sound like yes, but honestly, I think I’d just like to nap.

“That,” Kara says, “is a pretend yes. But give me five more minutes and it’ll be real. Yes or death.”

“I get it, I’m having fun,” I say, “no matter what.”

And I continue to let the sun warm me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

DEMYAN

Sergio’s doorbell rings. I wait, then ring again. There’s a camera, so I’m sure he knows I’m here.

But the man’s a showman, or is that snake oil salesman?

Finally, the door opens and a pretty brunette housemaid answers. She looks up at me, shock spreading, which says she might not have access to the camera feeds, but she knows exactly who I am.

As one who is known but keeps a low profile, I find it interesting. She’s clearly seen me before, but Sergio must talk about me because it’s an expression that says shit very loudly.

She managed a smile, smoothing her hands down over her black skirt of her uniform.

“Where’s Sergio? I know he knows I’m here.” I look around, heading to the drawing room. I’ve been here before and I’ve no interest in going deeper into the house.

She follows me. “Do you want Miss Augusto?”

“Why the fuck would I want Stefina?” I remind myself, while she’s not my favorite person, she’s just as manipulated by her father as I let myself be. The difference is she never stood a chance because Daddy controls everything. Daddy’s groomed her to be, well… her.

So I gentle my voice a little. “I’m here for Sergio, not Stefina. And time’s of the essence. Tell him I’ll wait for two minutes and no more.”

It’s a gamble putting that hard spin on it, but I need to re-establish my power to him. I’m the one with the power, not him. No matter what he thinks, he’ll be getting out of his deal with Rocco.

She does a clumsy curtsy, blushes, and whispers, “I’ll go and get Mr. Augusto.”

And she takes off.

He’s there in fifty seconds. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Are you here to finally right your horrible wrong?”

“And that would be?”

The smile slips a little. “Marry my Stefina. I’m not sure she’ll have you after you humiliated her, broke her heart. She loves you so much, Demyan, that I’m sure with some serious groveling from you, she’ll take you back.”

“Not here to grovel.”

His eyes narrow. “You need to,” he snaps. “You embarrassed her.”

“Stefina or you, Sergio?”

The man ignores my dig.

He doesn’t have his cigar, but he has a glass of whiskey and there’s no offer of a drink for me. I wouldn’t take it anyway. I’m not here to break bread or get poisoned. I’m here to lay things out.

“You ended your engagement and thought you could sneak off and marry your sidepiece because, what? You couldn’t keep it in your pants and knocked her up again? Let her birth the bastard and pay her off, like we all do.” He sips his drink. “You’re less of a man than I thought you were. Positively cunt whipped.”

I fight not to curl my hand. I just remain passive and file the insult to Erin away. He’ll pay for it. Just not right now.

“I’m marrying Erin, yes.”

“She’s a slut, and you know it. Christ, man. I offer you my perfect daughter and you turn her down? I don’t give a shit who you fuck once you marry her. She’s well trained. She’s a yes girl. She wanted the big wedding, that’s all, and your ego couldn’t take it, or was it the dowdy cunt’s ego that felt threatened?”

My control snaps and I take a menacing step toward Sergio.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the printouts. Everything’s backed up but a man like Sergio finds paper more real, more threatening than digital, even though it’s the same.

He frowns and turns the pages, his face darkening.

“That, right there, is a copy of your little deals. Of your plans, you’ve been sneakily trying to put into place. And not just with me. Pull one thread and others come loose. You’re trying to fuck over a whole lot of people. Teaming up with Rocco Federico. Taking Niko’s shit. Not even thinking about the Chicago branch of the family or even those lined up for their share if they step aside. You’re fucking people over, Sergio.”

“And?” His voice is tight.

“And back the fuck off, or I’ll let others know and bring your entire world down.”

Sergio laughs. “And yours.”

“Not. Mine.”

“You don’t have the balls, Demyan. You won’t risk the wrath of Rocco. He might be nothing in Chicago, but that’s only because he kept out of our business. Until now. You won’t mess with such a powerhouse.” He laughs. “No, you don’t have it in you to back up your threats. You’re weak, Demyan. You know how I know? You had the deal to become a real leader with me and Rocco, not just Chicago, but half the USA. If you had balls, you’d have honored this marriage to Stefina because that little marriage would have furthered all your bratva connections.”

I stare him down until he pales and takes a small step back. I don’t even think he notices. But he feels my power. And I’m betting a part of him feels diminished.

“Watch your fucking back, Sergio, or I’ll finish you.”

With that, I step past him and walk down the hall and out the door.

I don’t trust that heap of shit for a second.

No. Not one bit.

The only way forward is to take Sergio out before he retaliates. And this document gives me the green light, because no one in our world likes false pretenses. Which was the marriage.

He wasn’t going to share the spoils. He was going to kill me after the wedding and take all of my holdings and power. A double cross.

And now he’s going to be toast.

When I get home, Ilya’s waiting.

“What happened?” He hands me a drink. I take a deep swallow, then turn the glass as I fill him in on what went down at Sergio’s.

“Thank fuck the girls are away. I’ll alert their guards. Just in case Sergio was either stupid enough or smart enough to send someone after them.”

I narrow my eyes, heart squeezing tight. Real fear grips me. “That’d mean we have a spy.”

“No spy. I handpicked these men. Pavel runs checks on everyone. We have a system. Right now, fuck trust. I do trust them but⁠—”

“You’re not taking chances.” I look at him. “If there isn’t a spy, how would he find out?”

“It’s still a commercial flight. Someone could be staking out. Even though we run better sweeps than the fucking CIA and DEA”—he has no love for the FBI and he has a plant there—“stakeouts can be hard to spot if they’re very, very good.”

“Chances?”

“Maybe less than one percent.”

I nod. “Let the guards know to up their ante on watching. If they want extra, we’ll fly them in tonight.”

He makes a call to Pavel. “He’ll get it done. What’s the plan?”

“We need to rally the men. Now.”

Ilya nods and starts texting.

I fill up our drinks. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll stake out Sergio’s house.”

“Not tonight.”

“One person.”

He sends another text.

“But,” I say, “tomorrow I want the full stakeout. We’ll wait for him to leave and with any luck, he’ll go straight to Rocco. He’s still in town, right?”

“Oh, yeah, unofficially.”

“Well, let’s hope he goes to Rocco to discuss how to deal with me. That way it’ll be the perfect opportunity to attack them both at once. Sergio thinks I’m weak and all bluster. I don’t think he’ll be expecting this.”

“I’m coming.”

“No fucking way.”

Ilya glares at me. And he switches to Russian. “This is my problem, too. And my place is with you, Demyan. You are my brother.” He thumps his chest to show our connection. “My place is in the fight.”

“As my brother, Ilya,” I say, “I’m not letting you.”

“You—”

“I’m the boss. Your boss. And I refuse to let you risk further injury, my friend. The best help you can be is where I need you most.”

“And where’s that?”

“Here. Feeding me information.”

His mouth thins. He’s not happy. “Fine, I’ll respect that decision. But if anything happens to you, I’ll kill you myself.”

“A deal.” I pat his back.

“You don’t want to wait?”

“I don’t, and you don’t either, Ilya,” I say. “Besides, I want Rocco and Sergio dealt with now, before I marry Erin in two days.”

He raises his glass. “To a clean slate.”

I tap his glass with mine. “A new beginning.”

I hope.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ERIN

“So, dancing?” I ask Kara and Alina. “What outfit?”

Sasha’s napping and it’s the bachelorette night. Olga’s watching TV as Sasha is curled up, snuggled next to her, his goat’s tail sticking out from under his arm.

He now also has a big plush turtle Olga got conned into getting him.

I don’t want to leave him, but I spent the last part of the afternoon with him, splashing in the pool, and now he’s out for the count.

I hold up a dress.

“Not that one,” Kara says.

Alina digs through my case and pulls out a short one in gold I bought to tease Demyan with. It’s meant for private fun, not going out. It’s so not me, but they fling it at me.

“Perfect,” Alina says, laughing.

“Why would I wear that?”

“Maybe we’re not going dancing.” Kara looks at Alina, and they both snicker.

Oh. God. A stripper? “Did you Magic Mike me? I’ll kill you both.”

“You’ll have to find out. You’re just lucky the penis tiara didn’t arrive in time.”

“Kara,” I say, “stop that.”

“Get dressed.” Alina holds up the gold shoes with high heels they made me get. They’re not super high, and they’re wedged, but they’re higher than I’ve worn in a long time.

But there’s no way out. These two aren’t going to let up.

I snatch the shoes and the dress and head to the bathroom, underwear of the skimpy sort thrown in after me. “If it is a stripper, I mean it, I’ll kill you. Actually, Demyan will beat me to it. He’s very jealous. And protective.”

“That’s my brother. Gross!”

I roll my eyes and close the door. I strip and shower, washing sand, sea, and pool off me. Alina is doing so well, that it’s only occasionally she sees something and a sadness comes over her, like she’s been reminded that Max isn’t here.

But I think she’s having fun, so for her, more than Kara, I tell myself to go have fun. And I do trust them. I don’t think there’s a stripper.

After I’m finished with the shower, I dress and put on makeup, something I almost never do. I might as well do it, because knowing Kara, she’ll attack me and paint me more than I like.

When I’m done, I head into the main room, hair down, and they both whistle.

“You know,” I say, “we don’t need to make a big deal of it tonight. Maybe we just have dinner somewhere, followed by quiet drinks, just the three of us. It would be perfect, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Kara says.

Alina nods. “We’ve got other, better plans.” We head out and they both look fantastic. Heads turn as we make our way to a car, one of them booked. I breathe a sigh of relief as I spy the swimsuits in Kara’s bag and breathe a bigger one when we pull up at the nightclub they talked about.

Dancing I can do.

I have to admit the place is fun. It’s chill, too, indoors and in the back, there’s an outdoor area with places to dance under the stars or swim.

“This table is perfect,” Kara says, putting her bag down as Alina flags the cocktail waitress. “Dance floor there, bathrooms close for pregnant and drunk party members, and a nice breeze from the outside.”

“And no strippers.”

Alina orders two rounds, sodas for me, booze for them. “The night is young,” she says with a laugh.

Then she leans in and kisses my cheek. “What was that for?”

“Thank you. For making my brother grow in the ways he should. He’s a hard man. I mean hard as in unyielding and driven, but you and Sasha have given him the room to open up his heart and now the parts of him I know exist are more obvious.” She sucks in a breath. “And it’s thanks for being my friend. I know how close you were to Max, and I feel him more with you around. Like… I don’t know… he approves.”

She squeezes my hand.

“I miss him, too,” I say.

“I wish… well, I wish a lot of things, but you, Kara, Sasha all make it better. Bearable. Demyan, too. But he’s my brother, it’s his job. It isn’t yours. And it isn’t Kara’s, I only just met her, but I love her, too.”

I reach out and squeeze Kara’s hand. And I want to cry. These hormones. Hell. But her words make me sad and happy at the same time. She has a long road, but she’s come so far and her genuine pleasure at being here warms me.

The drinks arrive and I let Kara know what Alina says.

“She’s so cool. I hate she lost Max, but she’s got us.” Then she raises her head and her glass. “To Erin. To her marriage. To her little family. But… to us, because we’re the greatest damn friends ever.”

Alina cheers. “I’ll drink to that.”

The booze definitely works its magic on them and they’re so much fun that I forget quickly I can’t drink. I think those hormones of mine that are so intense, so all over the place, give me that euphoria of drinking, that early tipsy feeling.

I look around at all the people dancing and drinking. It’s early enough that it isn’t overly crowded, but it seems it’s party time in Aruba at all hours, at least in here.

To our right is a table with Demyan’s men. One watches us, the others scan the room.

I don’t even mind they’re here. They make me feel safer, and I have to admit I like being able to see them as it elevates the safety. Not that I’ll ever tell Demyan that. He’ll never let me step outside alone again.

“Let’s dance, I love this song,” Kara says, dragging us up.

I don’t think I’ve been dancing in years. But it’s easy enough to jump about and get our groove on. And the song melts into another and then another.

Finally, I need to sit. I get a lime and soda and sit, drinking it, waving my friends off as they get their gin and tonics and vodkas.

Men try and dance with them, but the girls stay together, and their would-be suitors always drift off.

“Come back and dance,” Kara says with a laugh as she shimmies up to me.

I wave her back. “Pregnant and tired. Let me get my second wind.” Then, like I somehow brought it on, I’m hit with the pregnant bladder syndrome and the need to pee. I wave Alina over. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You two carry on dancing.”

They salute and I go to the bathroom. It’s early enough there’s no line. When I’m done, I fix my hair, reapply my lipstick, and step out into the shadowed hall that leads back to the dance floor and bar.

A big and burly man bumps into me. I go to step around him when something hard pokes me in the stomach and someone else comes up behind me. I glance down and fear grabs me tight.

A gun.

It’s a gun he’s poking into my belly.

“P-please…”

“Make sound,” the man says in broken English that’s heavily accented. He doesn’t sound or look like he’s from the island. He sounds and looks like he’s pure mafia hired scum. “Make sound and you dead. I kill you and baby. Pow.”

White-hot terror streaks through me. I don’t move, only nod.

“We walk. We leave. Okay?”

I nod once more.

Demyan’s men are here, I remind myself. I just need to get to the main part of the room.

But they push open a door farther back and we’re in an alley. They drag me with them, giving me no way to escape, even though the gun’s no longer pointed at my baby.

Panic dances through me and I pray that they’ll have to take me near others, even around the front. And I pray either Kara, Alina, or Demyan’s men see me as we go past the outdoor area.

I stumble deliberately, playing clumsy, and step into a pool of light. They grab me and drag me back to the shadows, then past people in the front as they force me toward a waiting car, the gun in the small of my back.

Shit, I can’t go with them.

There are plenty of people around and I struggle as a shout goes up.

“Hey, leave her alone!” It’s Alina. “Stop!”

The man with the gun turns, caught off guard. The other one has gone to the driver’s door, so I use the distraction, smacking the hand with the gun and bringing my knee up hard, landing it in his groin.

It’s enough to stumble free. I run, shouts and murmurs rising from the people outside the club. I head to the entrance where Alina and Kara are coming for me. “Watch out! They have a gun!”

Pandemonium sets in and screams echo all around as I run into my friend’s arms.

Demyan’s men appear, weapons drawn, and they rush the men, trying to disarm them.

Guns go off, and I gulp in air, seeing two of Demyan’s men fall dead as Kara and Alina drag me back in.

People are running everywhere but the guns keep shooting until they end abruptly, and Kara screams. “They’re coming.”

Alina grabs us, dragging us behind the bar and we rush, following the bartender out through an employee exit and into the night.

I can’t breathe, and tears are blurring my eyes, my ears ring with the shouts and shots.

Kara flags a taxi, and we bundle in Alina, shouting out our hotel’s name.

I should be helping, I know that, but my thoughts are everywhere. Who the hell were those men? And is my son safe?

“What if they know where we’re staying?”

But Alina’s on the phone to Olga. “Get Sasha, grab a bag, and meet us in front.”

“Is it safe?” I swing my head wildly from Alina to Kara, but Alina squeezes my arm as the taxi pulls up in front of the hotel and Olga, Sasha, and two bags squish in the back with us.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

Alina rattles off an address and hands him a pile of money. “More if you get us there unseen and as fast as you can.”

“Are we safe?” I ask as a crying Sasha scrambles over the others to me.

I hold him tight and try and breathe.

“We’re safe, we’re going to be safe.” Alina makes a call. “We used to holiday here all the time so I know people. More importantly, we’re going to a safe house and the staff there are waiting. We can trust them.”

And the driver, I want to ask, can we trust him? But I don’t because while she’s paying him a lot of money, I don’t want to know what’ll happen.

Instead, I reassure Sasha, who’s terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going on an adventure.”

He hugs his turtle and goat and me, big eyes taking everything in. “Dino?”

“He’ll be here soon,” I whisper, “Daddy’ll be here soon.”

We turn onto a bumpy road, and the driver suddenly pulls over in the darkness.

That’s when I see two headlights flash. Two big men appear and one pays the driver more money, and they help us out of the car. We wait as the cab turns and drives out of view.

Then we’re piled into a big SUV.

“We’re heading to the safe house now. We had to do the transfer here because, even if they get to the driver, pay him more money, and he talks, he doesn’t know anything other than this spot and we could go in any direction from here.”

Kara stares at Alina. “You’re as bad-ass as your brother.”

“I’m not,” she says, “I just know the drill.” Then she sighs. “I’ve texted Ilya and Demyan.” She holds her phone to her ear, then leaves a message in Russian. She does this a few times.

“Has he picked up?” I ask as I try to keep the panic from my voice.

But Alina shakes her head. “Straight to voicemail, both of them, but they’ll get these and we’ll keep trying.”

I kiss Sasha’s head. And Kara meets my gaze.

Anyone else would be looking at me like I told you so or have a face full of recriminations.

Not Kara.

It’s just concern for me, and a brave smile.

Sasha hugs me tighter. “Daddy will keep us safe,” I say. “All of us. We’re going to be fine.”

I hope.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

DEMYAN

Ilya hasn’t called in, which isn’t like him. I glance at my phone.

Fuck me, it’s off. I pick it up and realize as it won’t turn on as it’s dead. “Ivan? Alek? Got a charger?”

Embarrassed silence meets me, and finally Alek speaks. “Sorry, Boss, packed light.”

He means ammo and weapons only.

Shit.

We’ve been sitting outside one of Sergio’s clubs for hours, with other men dotted around. Outside other establishments, along with his house.

Sergio isn’t home, though. My men tailed him here in the early hours and I came here when it seemed like he was staying put. It’s late. And he hasn’t snuck out to go home or launch an attack. From every single report, he’s still in there. Somewhere. Hidden away in his private office like a coward.

The club’s been in legit operation, and non-legit. People have been coming and going. But with the dawn’s light, after hours close up, and the real closed sign goes up, marked by the roller gate halfway down and people leaving. Leaving, that is, and not going in.

But no one’s caught my attention.

No one, that is until now.

A car pulls up and every sense is on alert. Those alerts spike higher as the armored car doors open and two burly guards get out. They’re armed and they make no show of hiding it.

Then Rocco steps out. I know it’s him because I’ve seen pictures.

And of course, my fucking phone is dead. I bite back a sigh.

“Ivan, call in to Ilya for me. Tell him to send backup.”

He glances at me. “How much backup, Boss?”

I check my gun. “Enough to take him out twice over.”

“You want them to storm the gates?”

“I want them here, waiting and ready for my word,” I say.

This is it.

My best chance to take out Rocco and Sergio at the same time. I calculate the time it’ll take for backup. Maybe thirty minutes? Maybe fifteen, depending where Ilya has people or who and what he’ll send.

Problem is, they might take off. I have someone watching the back exit, but that’s no guarantee it’s the only one. Weasels like Sergio are wily. It’s why he’s lasted so long and who the fuck knows what those two are planning…

It’s not just my future on the line, but half of Chicago. Vince will be a better person to take over from Niko, now that I know he’s interested in the game, but it’s not going to happen if this alliance goes ahead.

And smaller, weaker parties will join the biggest one; it’s just what happens. I’m big, I’m powerful. My empire’s strong, but this becomes a different story. An outsider with a slew of connections coming in and aligning with Sergio is bad news for everyone.

I need to take them both out.

It’s the only way it works.

They’re together, like the fucking stars have aligned. And even if Sergio has no plans of sneaking out, there’s nothing stopping Rocco waltzing out of there on his own, which’ll then mean an orchestrated attack on both of them from different places.

So do I storm in now and take the risk on?

Every instinct says now. It’s almost seven a.m. The last of the staff left before Rocco turned up, so I only have to worry about Rocco, Sergio, and whatever men.

“Alek, call in the car around the back. Lock and load time.”

They both look at me. “Boss?”

“We’re going in.”

Six of us storm in, the door beneath the roller gate not locked. My men are under orders to take out everyone but Sergio and Rocco.

They’re going to die, but there are ways to do it. I want some more answers first.

I shoot the first big man who looks up from near the door, eyes wide in surprise as he fumbles for his gun. A shot in the chest, then the head.

My men take out four more. And when the third runs out, guns blazing I shoot him point-blank.

As my men stream through the place, leaving no prisoners, I search for Sergio and Rocco.

The room’s locked and I’m betting the fuckers are armed. I shoot out the cameras and reload. Then I kick down the fucking door, shooting low and ducking out of the way of the shower of bullets that come our way.

I let them empty their guns before I send my men in.

There’s a short gunfire exchange and a howl of pain and I round the corner in time to see Rocco rolling on the ground, holding one leg, and Sergio face down, arms twisted behind his back.

Nothing but disgust rolls through me. “Restrain them. Now.”

I don’t talk to them. I want them to wait, to stew. And the added pain for Rocco suits me just fine. I borrow a phone from Ivan and send texts to Ilya.

There’s another room, this one with a steel door and it’s locked. It’s at the back of the office. I frown, wondering why the fuck, if Sergio has a room like this, he didn’t go in there with his friend before we stormed the place and then burst out to kill us all.

Something uneasy stirs in me.

“Open this.”

I bark the words at Sergio.

My backup starts to arrive. “Keep guns on that fucking door. If it opens, shoot to kill. And keep weapons trained on all exits,” I say to Pavel who just arrived.

“Keys?” I hook a thumb at the door and look at Sergio.

Something definitely isn’t right because the fuck is smirking.

“Oh, Demyan …”

It dawns on me that while weapons were shot at the door when my men barged in, he banked on me playing by the rules of our world. Banked on me wanting answers. He could have tried to take me out.

It wouldn’t have worked, but he could have tried.

Yet he didn’t.

“You still think you can get my holdings, don’t you?” I murmur.

The smirk grows. “The deal was what’s yours will be mine.”

“Never the deal. Ever. And there are contingencies in place, Sergio, to stop you ever getting even one dollar of my money, one piece of my power. Kill me and you walk away with nothing.”

“Demyan, I don’t want to kill you. I just want what’s yours. After that… well, it depends, doesn’t it?”

“On what?”

“On if you please my daughter. And don’t shoot anyone in that room. There’s only my sweet Stefina, ready to earn her way.”

“What the fuck,” I say, “are you talking about?”

He spreads his hands and guns pointing at his cock. “You walked into my trap, Demyan.”

A cold finger of dread runs down my spine. “Trap?”

“Yes, trap.” He tries to shake my man off him, but I shake my head and he sighs. “Fine. Stefina isn’t alone. She’s in there with a celebrant, ready to marry you.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

And how the fuck did he even know I’d turn up tonight? Oh Jesus, is he keeping his daughter under lock and key until he can wheel her out?

But that doesn’t make sense.

He must see something on my face because he starts laughing, not even Pavel’s threating gun to the temple stops him.

He thinks—no, he knows he’s somehow safe—because of something I don’t know about.

It’s not his daughter. And it’s not the goodness of my heart. That contains very little and every ounce is for Erin and my children.

“I asked you a fucking question, Sergio. Why the fuck would I agree to marrying Stefina?”

“I thought you heard.” He laughs and says, “So this is just luck you storming in here, is it? No, you’ll marry her.”

“No, I fucking won’t.”

“You will, Demyan, because right now, in Aruba, there’s a gun to your future slut—sorry—wife’s head. If you don’t go through with this wedding to Stefina, your Erin will die. Better yet, if I don’t call my contact in Aruba every fifteen minutes, Erin will die.”

He checks his watch and waits.

I want to put a bullet in his head, but I’m torn. My phone’s out of juice. I look at Pavel who motions to someone else to take over with the gun as he steps out of the room to hopefully call Ilya, see if he can get hold of my woman. But the problem is, they were going out, so they might not hear the phone.

Or there might be a gun to their heads.

I spoke to her yesterday morning, but… Fuck. Until I get word Ilya’s made contact, I don’t know what the truth is.

I don’t fucking know if she’s safe.

There’s a chance Sergio’s lying.

But what if he’s not?

Am I willing to gamble on Erin’s life? My unborn child’s?

Then Sergio says, “I need to make that call in two minutes. What’s it going to be? Marry Stefina or sign your slut’s death warrant?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ERIN

My stomach’s in shambles. I should be upset at the deaths of the men who died protecting us. But I’m not.

Rather, I am, but not destroyed by it like I should be. Instead, I’m thankful we’re all alive, even if we can’t get hold of Demyan. Or Ilya.

Alina hands me some tea and I cup my hands around the glass, poor little Sasha anxiously looking from me to Alina to Kara and the men I’ve never seen. Alina knows them. And Olga has managed to ease Sasha from me to try to distract him and let me be.

“I can’t get hold of him,” I whisper. “You?”

Alina shakes her head. “I’ll try again. I’m sorry, I’m not privy to everything, so I don’t know why he sent us ahead. He’s probably working. Ilya, too.”

“But his phone should be on.”

“Maybe he needs to have it off or he forgot to charge it or he left it behind.”

He wouldn’t.

Demyan’s not the type to be careless in that way. He’d have his phone.

Another jolt of nausea rocks me.

Alina says she doesn’t know why he sent us ahead. But I do.

“He’s fine. Maybe he’s doing wedding stuff. And he sent us for a treat.” Kara smiles as Alina wanders off, texting and calling on her phone.

“No. H-he sent us to keep us safe. He didn’t trust this Sergio person, Kara. And I caused it all by making him back out of the wedding with Stefina before he had a plan.”

She grabs my hand, eyes blazing, and she leans in. “You listen to me, Erin Banks. I’ve met Demyan and he did that for you, yes, but he also would have put his foot down and risked your anger if he thought this would happen.”

“What if⁠—”

“Don’t.” She closes her eyes. “Look, I’d tell you to think long and hard before marrying him, but you have and you’re not backing out. Plus, Erin, you’re right. He’s the father of your kids. And he’ll protect you. His life is dangerous, but I don’t think he entered into that arrangement for thrills, and I don’t think he backed out to spice things up. He seems to want more, and he sees that in you.”

“What do you mean?”

She sucks in a breath. “He’s bratva, right? Organized crime? But he goes to the park, he protects, and I think he’s smart enough to want peace within the more… questionable parts of his outfit.” Then she flashes a small smile. “That’s what Alina told me when I pushed. She says their father was hard and pushed Demyan. But Demyan wants to take it into the modern world. Run his businesses, the legal and illegal, and form partnerships that build peace rather than land and power grabs. So… I don’t know. I’m talking out my ass.”

“You’re not. I see that, too. But something’s happened. Look where we are. What if you hadn’t seen me? I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve put everyone in danger.”

Alina can’t hide the worry when she comes and sits with us, a glass of vodka in her hand. I don’t know what this place is, but I think it’s more than a safe house. She knows the people. From the car to those here. And while she said staff, there must be more to it. The place feels lived-in, high-tech. A fortress outside the city, one hard to find.

They turned the headlights off when we went through hidden gates, for crying out loud.

“I’m trying Ilya again.”

She sends a text, and then she calls.

This time his voice comes through as she turns it on speaker. “Alina? What’s wrong? I just got to your texts. I was⁠—”

She cuts him off and starts speaking rapid Russian to him. They talk and my frustration builds. I cast a glance at my boy, who’s getting upset again. I’m thinking he’ll behave for Olga for another five or ten minutes before we reach meltdown.

But I need to find out about Demyan.

“Is Demyan okay?” My voice shakes.

Alina holds up a hand to me. “Odnu minute, Ilya.”

“Alina?” I ask.

“I was just catching him up on what happened.”

“You’re all right? The baby? Sasha?” Ilya demands in English.

“Yes, but is Demyan —”

“Alina,” he says, sounding like there’s a ton of pressure on him and he’s in the middle of something. “Are you safe?”

“We’re at Vasily’s fortress. My cousin’s away but his men and staff are here. He’s sending another family member to help out,” she says. “It’s well stocked, there are cameras, and it’s an absolute fortress.”

“Last time I was there the security needed upgrading.”

“You always say that,” she chides. “But it is. I’ve been told the cameras are all high-tech and there are patrols. We did the switch off from taxi to Vasily’s SUV a number of miles back.”

He barks an order in Russian, then he’s back to us in English. “You weren’t followed?”

“We did the two-car pickup. One went another way and the car with the precious cargo circled before coming in. We weren’t followed,” says one of the men. “And the high-tech cameras ring the property. We use it regularly, and not just as a vacation place.”

“We should be safe, Ilya,” Alina finishes.

“Should or are?”

She looks at the men and one nods. “Are.”

“Stay where you are. And tell the men no one, not even one of theirs, gets on the property. If anyone does and comes to the door, don’t answer. I know the house; no one can get in unless the door’s opened. So you’re essentially in a house-sized panic room, understand?”

“Yes,” she says, and Kara and I grip hands harder.

“Demyan’s phone’s out of juice, so I’ll track him down and we’ll work out a plan to get you all to safety.”

He hangs up. I feel a little better, but how the hell is Demyan with a dead phone?

“Alina, when you spoke to each other in Russian, did… did he say where Demyan is?”

“No.”

And in that moment, I see how she fits into their world. Because I don’t know if she’s telling me the truth or not, and it scares me even more.

“Mama!”

Sasha’s broken free, or Olga was smart enough to release him, and he rushes to me, grabbing at me. I slip an arm around him and pick him up, hugging him close. His little heart’s beating fast and I’m sure he’s feeding off the energy in the room.

“Hey, baby,” I whisper, peppering kisses over his little face as Kara bounces one of his feet that’s now shoeless. I spot the shoe near Olga who stands and heads to the kitchen, muttering about snacks and drinks.

The house isn’t big, at least not for this amount of people, but I don’t think many will be getting much sleep and already one man is carrying bedding out into the living room which is in the middle of the house.

“These sofas open out into beds, and we can make forts. Would you like that, Sasha? A sleep fort? We can have a slumber party.” She smiles at him as he buries his head into my chest.

I look at her, then at Kara as he pulls his foot from even her. “He’s overwhelmed.”

“Poor baby,” she murmurs. “Even though we weren’t followed, it’s smarter to sleep here. Ilya’s right, the place is like a panic room, but I know Demyan. He’ll want overboard on safety when it comes to you.”

“Us,” I say, making sure she understands she’s included.

“Olga’s getting snacks and one of the men put some clothes and amenities in the bathroom. They’ll probably swim, but we can get changed into them. Something more comfortable.”

I try to keep the panic down.

Clothes to be comfortable in. A panic room style house. Camping in the middle of it, pretending it’s a slumber party, to be even safer. Not being able to contact Demyan.

All those things clang in my ears.

And my heart is aching. My soul hurting.

I want Demyan. I want to smell his scent, bury my nose against his warm throat, feel the beat of his pulse, the rush of blood. I want his strength and the gentle under the hard. I just want him.

Safe.

Here.

Now.

Sasha starts to shake. “Mama? Where’s Daddy?”

“Shh.”

His head pops up and he grabs my face. “Scared. I don’t like!”

“It’s okay, Sasha. Kara is here. Aunt Alina. Olga.”

“Milk, Sasha?” Olga asks and offers it, but he bats her hand away.

I mouth sorry to her and stroke his hair as he grabs my face again.

“Mama?”

“Daddy’s coming here soon,” I say, not sure if it’s an assurance or a lie. I glance about and spy a pack of cards on the coffee table, and I gasp. “Sasha! Look!”

He does.

“Do you want to play a game?”

“Yeah, Sasha,” Kara says, “wanna play Sasha Go?”

His little face lights up.

And he nods, letting me go and wiggling down.

Sasha Go is a made-up game that I think he only knows the rules to. Or maybe there aren’t any. It consists of him mostly winning—although sometimes he takes pity on us—and lots of giggles and card throwing.

Kara explains this to Alina and Olga and we all sit, with Sasha making Kara hand out the cards for the game.

“Oh, this is like snap,” Alina says, laughing. “With added flying cards.”

We all play, and I try to keep Sasha distracted and happy. But I’m also trying to distract myself, because in the back of my mind, the panic grows.

I don’t know where Demyan is, and Ilya deftly ignored me. I know steamrolling when I see it. And that’s what he did. Steamrolled over facts and details.

So I’m sitting here with Demyan having a supposedly dead phone while he works. Except I don’t buy it.

I keep coming back to that. Maybe his phone is out of juice. But he’s not doing something safe. If he was, he’d have powered up, borrowed a phone.

Something’s happened and each time I close my eyes, I see the bullets rip into the men outside the club. I see the bullet hit Ilya.

But it isn’t the men. It isn’t Ilya.

It’s Demyan in my head.

And he’s not getting up.

He’s alone.

Bleeding out.

And it’s all my fault.

What if he’s lying somewhere hurt or dying or worse because I made him call off the wedding instead of letting him sort it out?

That keeps rotating in my head, too.

I made him call it off and now…

What if he’s hurt or dead because of me?

And I know if something’s happened, I’m never going to forgive myself.

Ever.

Chapter Thirty

DEMYAN

I’m still waiting on the rest of the backup. And I’m waiting to see what Sergio’s going to do. I can’t kill him. Not until I know Erin’s safe, and Pavel, who went to contact Ilya, the only other person with Erin’s number, hasn’t come back in.

Whatever he has to say is only for me and if she’s dead or hurt, I have to believe I’d be told.

“Marry her and this will be over.”

“Shut your mouth and maybe I won’t shoot you.” I eye Sergio. “How do I know you didn’t text for backup or to have her killed?”

“Trust?”

This time I laugh. It’s a strange sort of standoff, but something’s off here. His daughter’s in the other room, but I don’t worry about her. There’s a gun trained on that door. And my gun’s on Sergio.

Alek is pointing his gun at Rocco.

“I’d never trust you. How about this. Put Erin on speaker and we’ll take it from there.”

He hesitates.

Sergio texted, didn’t call. So is he bluffing? Or did my girl lose his men?

“Call, or is it that you can’t?” I ask softly. “Take his phone, Ivan.”

Ivan steps forward as Sergio’s gaze darts toward him. “Touch this and I won’t send the next arranged signal.”

My chest tightens. Fuck, I can’t risk it.

“Call your daughter out.”

The avarice in his eyes leaps. “She’ll be out any minute. When the time lock ends.”

Did he lock her in? Then again, it’s an actual panic or safe room. So it might be time locked. I really don’t care except, I don’t want a whole bunch of men to jump out.

“Shoot to kill when the door opens,” I order.

Now the avarice turns to panic, and he stares at me. “She’s unarmed, there’s her and the celebrant in there.”

That I believe, but I don’t change the order.

“Kill my daughter and I’ll kill your bitch.”

“Seems we’re at a standoff.” I nod at Rocco. “And you? What’s your part in this with Sergio? I’m more powerful than Sergio. It’s why he wants me to marry his daughter. Get his hands on my holdings.”

Sergio starts spluttering but Rocco’s face turns mean. “You’re part of the deal. Or your power is. Marry her, I get half. That’s the promise. And I’ll be the most powerful man around.”

“We will,” says Sergio.

It’s at that point the door starts beeping and the gun on Rocco shifts slightly as my man glances at the door. And in the front of the building, behind us, comes a commotion. Shouts but no shots.

But it’s enough for Rocco to reach beneath his jacket and pull a weapon. I only have time to start to swing my weapon from Sergio as Rocco’s aims at me. But a bullet slams into his head.

He’s dead before he hits the floor.

I don’t glance back; I know who made the shot.

“She’s fine,” Ilya says with a grunt of pain.

I swing my gun to Sergio as he goes for something in his shoe. A knife, a gun, I don’t give a fuck. I aim and pull the trigger and he drops.

Not dead, just seriously wounded. Blood pours from just below his left shoulder as he falls to the floor.

“Ivan, if he moves again, shoot.” Now I lift my gaze, glancing at the safe room door. “And Ilya, I thought I made it clear you were to stay away.”

Ilya’s cane hits the floor as he comes into view, gun in one hand as he gives me a smirk. “You clearly needed my help.”

“I had it under control. She’s okay?” I ask.

“They got away. You should turn your phone on.”

“It’s dead.”

He tsks. “Always bring a charger.”

“I’ll pack it with sandwiches for the next shootout.”

“See that you do.” It doesn’t go unnoticed that Ilya leans heavily on Sergio’s desk.

I turn my full attention back to the fuck. “Sergio said he had someone holding a gun on Erin. Are you sure?”

“Spoke to her myself. They’re at Vasily’s. Alina got them there. Unfortunately, the guards we had are dead. But Sasha and Erin and your sister are safe. They’re safe.”

Safe. Inside, I’m shaking as the word sinks in. And all the fear I held back, the fear I pretended I didn’t have, floods me and my vision wavers.

I go up to Sergio, kicking him down, then stepping on his wound, grinding my foot down on it. He screams in agony. I keep my foot there, pinning him. “You dared try to scare a small child and a pregnant woman? Take my family? Lie to me? You knew your guards didn’t have them and you fucking lied. For what? You thought I’d cave and marry Stefina? What kind of sick fuck are you?”

I lift my foot and start to kick him, the panic and relief turning into anger. I fucking hate this cunt.

A door clicks. It’s like a light in my head.

What the fuck am I doing? I don’t even want this blight to suffer. I just want him to no longer exist.

So I lift my gun and shoot him in the head.

He doesn’t move again.

“No! Daddy!”

Stefina flies past me and drops to her father, hysterical. I motion to someone to pull her back.

Her face twists into pain and grief as she glares at me. “How could you?”

“You’re better off without that sack of shit,” I mutter. “He didn’t care about you, just what you could bring him. He treated you like shit.”

Her eyes flash and her grief recedes. Stefina shakes off the man holding her and crosses her arms. “I’ll find a way to make you pay if you don’t fix things!”

“Fix things?” I shake my head. “He’s dead. What do you want me to fucking do?”

“Marry me like you promised.”

I start laughing. “You don’t want to marry me. You and me, we don’t spark. We’d never last and you’d be miserable.”

She swallows and stomps up to me. “What am I meant to do without him? How do I survive?”

“Your daddy had money.”

“You don’t get it. He did, I don’t. It’s set up that my husband gets everything to be shared with Rocco, and failing that… it goes into trust until I have a son. From one of four families. At least you’re young and good-looking. So… what am I meant to do?”

The words get a job come to mind, but she’s a mafia princess, brought up to be only that.

I’m guessing her father figured I wouldn’t kill him as Rocco and I would never mix, given my history with his family. And Rocco wanted my power. I was going to be killed, no doubt.

But I don’t think she knew that. And I only have pieces I put together.

I can’t leave her penniless. I look at Ilya. “I’ve got an idea. Call Vince, have him meet us here. I’ve got a proposition.”

And Stefina’s face lifts to mine. “Vince?”

Vince is minutes away, and I use Alek’s phone to change our chartered flight to an earlier one. Fuck, I’ll fly commercial if I have to. But I know a private chartered flight is easier. When I have it set up, I breathe out.

I want this nightmare in here to be done. I want to be with my family as soon as I can. I was insanely stupid allowing them to go early. Freedom? I almost signed their death warrants.

Erin might think she’s still in the regular world, but she isn’t. She’s mine and the most precious thing ever. I need to protect her and my children, no matter what.

I should have been there.

Vince arrives and Stefina’s eyes light up, her dead father forgotten. I’m seeing her in a different light, a woman forced into a role she hated. Oh, I think she’s probably still shallow, but Vince is decent and he likes what he sees. And since he’s stepping in fresh, he just might be what she needs. And he might need her to help navigate some parts of the world since he’s spent so long out of the game.

“What’s this about?” he asks.

I let him take in his dead cousin and Sergio. And of course, Stefina.

Then I lead everyone into the club.

“You and I have a deal, correct?” I ask him.

He nods. “Ilya and I see eye to eye on this, and you took care of the bad blood in my family. And then some. You operate the way I always suggested, before they pushed me out.” Vince shrugs. “I took that option, made my own money, but this business is in my blood. Are you saying you want me to leave Chicago? Rocco’s business isn’t set up here, so that wing of the family business isn’t mine to carve up or control⁠—”

“I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in taking care of Stefina, and Sergio’s business.” I explain to him what she told me and how I think it’s set up, but I know she’s right. If her father is dead, it all goes to the husband and Rocco. And since Rocco’s dead… Just the husband. In fact, I’ll bet the Rocco part isn’t set up yet except by a handshake and a word.

“Marry Stefina,” I say.

“And give you half or all of her father’s holdings?”

“No. All I want is what we arranged. The ability to do business with you and the people he controls. Like I always did. If there are things I want, we’ll discuss. You and Ilya set it up, and I trust him.” I look at Stefina who’s now eyeing Vince. He’s young and good-looking, and I’m pretty fucking sure she’s forgotten her fake devotion to me.

Thank fuck.

“Marry her, join your interests with hers, and take control over your brother’s and Sergio’s territories. And our deals stand.”

“I get power and money and… her?” Vince asks.

“She’s nonnegotiable.”

Vince smiles. “Good.”

And Stefina squeals, throwing her arms around Vince.

“You’re good with this?” Ilya asks me, sidling up.

“As long as he sticks to the deal and keeps the fuck out of my way.”

“He will. And he’ll be an asset.” Then Ilya smacks me on the back. “We did good. Now I’m back.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, we’ve got that new flight to catch.”

Chapter Thirty-One

ERIN

It doesn’t matter the reports are in that Demyan and Ilya are arriving tonight. I can’t wait and my nerves won’t die down until he’s here, in front of me, safe. Until I can touch him and make sure it’s real.

“Calm down,” Kara says to me.

“I’m calm.”

“No, you’re not. And it’s not good for you or the baby.” She gets up and starts pacing with me.

Alina and Olga and one of the guards are playing hide-and-seek with Sasha in the house as, while we’re not to leave, the risk level has gone down. A little. Which also makes me nervous. If it’s all over, then why⁠—

“Hey,” Kara says brightly, “remember when we were going to open up our own agency? But you had to meet a sexy man and get knocked up?”

“Kara—”

“What do you say to us revisiting that after the baby’s born? You’re financially stable now, and it’ll take time to set up, so when we’re ready to go, we can launch. It’ll give you time with the baby, too.”

“It’s a great idea.” I stop pacing. “I’m just worried.”

“He’s on his way.”

“I know. I’m happy this ordeal’s over and the whole Sergio and Stefina thing is done, but I’m not going to relax or have it feel real until I’m in Demyan’s arms again. Until I can touch him.”

“You got it bad, girl.”

That makes laughter bubble free. “I’m marrying him.”

“Which is probably good that you got it bad.”

Suddenly, one of the guards presses a phone to his ear and heads to the door. Kara and I rush to the window in the front and pull back the blind. A car’s pulling up.

“Ilya!”

“Dino!” Sasha cries.

The moment the guard has the door open, we pour out. Me, Sasha, Alina, and Kara. Demyan gets out, too. I wobble and almost fall at the sight of him, and he sees me. And then he starts hurrying to me, but something small hits his legs, wrapping tight.

If Kara didn’t grab me, I’d have hit the ground.

Sasha screams, “Daddy! I missed you!”

I start crying. This is a dream come true. My baby so happy and excited to see his father.

Demyan’s face goes blank. Shock blooms and then the kind of happiness that makes me cry harder.

He scoops Sasha up and smothers him with kisses ,and through my tears, I start laughing.

My heart swells. This moment burns into my memory. It’s perfect, it’s everything. It’s real.

My boys.

And I feel privileged to witness such a sweet little moment between father and son.

Demyan lifts his head and beams at me, then whispers something to Sasha, who screams with delight and nods.

They come up to me and Sasha wiggles. “Daddy has a secret for you, Mama. He loves you.”

“Sasha,” Demyan says with a laugh. “You’re not supposed to tell secrets.”

“Sorry.” And he wiggles more, sounding completely not sorry. “Dino said ice cream!”

He announces this to anyone who’s listening and manages to get down, and then I’m in Demyan’s arms. He holds me tight, kissing me hard.

His lips are soft, demanding, his tongue like whiskey and home.

When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “You’ve no fucking idea how happy I am to see you, Lyubimaya.”

“Demyan.” I kiss him again.

He takes my face in his hands and it reminds me of when Sasha did it and I want to cry again. Demyan wipes my eyes.

“Hormones,” I mutter.

He kisses my nose. “I was so worried. I thought…”

“I’m fine.”

His hand grazes my stomach. “And the baby?”

“I’m sure the baby’s fine, too. I’ll have a checkup when we’re home.”

Demyan nods, then looks at the others. “Time to go.”

We get in different cars. I’m with Demyan and Sasha, but we don’t go to the hotel. Instead, we continue to travel farther from the city and along the coast, finally turning into a gorgeous hidden resort, the kind that’s small, its own thing.

“This is where we’d be coming tonight, anyway. Just the wedding party. I booked it out. It’s like an exclusive getaway a lot of famous people use when they want privacy and luxury. But… see down there? That’s where we’ll be honeymooning.”

There’s a natural-looking outcrop with what looks like a small house on it, surrounded by the azure water.

I stare at Demyan.

“All this…?”

“The hotel was for you girls.” Then he looks at me as we pull up and he gets out, letting Sasha clamber over me. My boy goes running off into the afternoon light, staff already appearing, with one following him. “He can’t get anywhere dangerous.”

Demyan’s jaw clenches and he sweeps me up into his arms.

“One thing you need to understand. I’m protective. I’m hands on. I can’t live without you, Erin. You need to know that. So we’re going in. Everyone else can party and Olga’s here. Plus, Sasha has plenty of adults that dote on him.”

“I know⁠—”

“I’m telling you that because we’re going to bed and there’ll be a Do Not Disturb sign on our room door. You’re taking it easy and staying in bed.”

“I need to get my things from the hotel⁠—”

“Everything is here now. Your dress, everything. You’ll be, as I said, staying in fucking bed, dinner in bed, breakfast in bed. You’re allowed up tomorrow to get ready for our wedding.”

He kisses me softly to take any gruffness from his order.

“And I’ll be right there with you, Lyubimaya. For the rest of our lives. You all come first. You, Sasha, our baby.”

A thrill races through me as a shiver slides down my spine.

We’re getting married.

Tomorrow.

Could life be any more perfect?

We head in, and I break away from snuggling against him to see he’s following a staff member to the front of the small resort. A door opens and Demyan whispers, “Close your eyes.”

I do.

It’s not until he places me on a soft, clean-scented bed that I’m allowed to open them again.

When I do, I gasp.

The entire curved wall is glass. And the curtains are open. The light streams in from the afternoon. But all I can see is the blue water.

“Oh, Demyan …”

“I love you, Erin. More than I can say. But it’s with every fiber of my body. My heart and my soul. You make the world light, fun, worth living. And that view? It’s got nothing on you.”

He gets up and picks up a remote control, then kicks off his shoes and presses a button. As the curtains whir shut, he starts to undress me.

It’s not even five in the afternoon. Nowhere near that, but I don’t care and my pussy throbs as he runs a hand down over my body, parting my now naked thighs. He leans into me, over me, and kisses me long and thorough.

Thing is, as I wrap about him, kissing him back, curling my fingers in his hair, I don’t care he’s being ridiculous with his take it easy attitude. All I want is this. To be here, close to the man I love.

Without fears or threats or doubts. Without resentment or past mistakes. Those are where they should be, in the past, and the rest of it? He’s dealt with the fears and threats and with those going, so do the doubts.

And I know there’s never going to be a reason to doubt him again. He loves me like I love him. More, he loves Sasha the way I do, like Sasha is the most precious thing. And I know that’s why he acted so angry and upset at me. It wasn’t logic, it was a tangle of fear and love and doubt.

But now we’ve been through so much and come through. Stronger, better. And with another precious gift on the way.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you.”

He kisses me again, or I kiss him, or maybe we kiss each other. All I know is it’s liquid and real, a coming together from need and desire, the heat of his mouth and the slide of his tongue undo things in me, make me buzz and need even more.

The kiss shifts from the sparks we set to flame and his fingers dip down over my clit and along my lips. I moan against him as he parts them and starts to kiss down my body, spending time worshipping my breasts, my stomach where his baby grows, and then…

Demyan moves to the floor, on his knees, then he pulls me to him by my thighs and buries his face there, his tongue working my clit as his fingers thrust into me, over and over, long, measured thrusts, and I’m a mess, my entire focus on the pleasure he’s building in me and I come, shuddering. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps going until I don’t know what’s what.

I pull away and try to drag him into me. I twist and thrust up and when I’m on that brink again, he stops.

Demyan stands and strips and thrusts into me. It’s a slow, languid fuck, a making of love, our love, and he takes his time, building me all over again, like he’s saving every moment of being in me, like he’s making our bond stronger.

I shatter again, my body clenching down, and he pulls out, flips me, and slowly pushes into my ass. He softly bites on to my shoulder and I groan. It feels so good, that shockingly intimate act of him taking my ass a perfect thing for this. It’s trust and love and an ownership that goes both ways.

“Later,” he whispers, “I get your mouth, and then I eat you out all over again.”

It’s enough to set me off coming yet again, and it’s a wild, deep throbbing, coming from inside my soul.

That’s when he grips my hips and fucks me hard, each thrust a grunt and he suddenly buries himself balls deep, sending a sweet fire sweeping through me, knowing he’s all mine, and he comes, his dick twitching, his hips shuddering.

When he’s done, he pulls out and rolls us ,so I’m tucked into him.

“I love you, Erin,” he says, “more than life itself.”

I smile. “I love you, too. You’re my world.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

DEMYAN

Ilya stands by my side on the beach.

Waiting for Erin to arrive and I’ve never been so nervous. I’ve faced death. It’s nothing on this.

But there’s one thing I know. She’s coming.

She’s not backing out or anything like that. I’m nervous because I don’t think I’ve ever loved like this. What if I get it wrong, what⁠—

“Breathe,” Ilya says in Russian. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

I do, I realize.

And the nerves aren’t a bad thing. It means I need her so much that I’ll never take her for granted. I know how blessed I am. I’m scared I won’t live up to her. So, I guess I’ll have to. And she’s both my inspiration and safety net.

“I’m going to have to prove I’m good enough for her. For the rest of my life. I have to step up. And if I ever fumble, she’ll catch me.” I look at Ilya. “I don’t want to fumble.”

“Then don’t. My friend, you’re the most determined man I’ve met. This is it, your happy ever after.”

Oh fuck. It is.

Mine.

The day is perfect. The sun shines above and gentle waves lap the snowy-white sand.

The private beach is pristine, like page one of a new book I have to explore.

Suddenly, the nerves dissipate.

This is mine. I’ve got it.

Mine and Erin’s. Together, we have it.

Together.

And like that, I’m relaxed. The future’s bright and her name is everywhere. With her by my side, the chapter will write itself. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed.

I don’t know what’s going to come, except it’ll be with Erin.

And that’s perfection.

Ilya elbows me. “So, figured it’s been a hot minute. How are you feeling now?”

I grin at him. “I feel… pretty fucking amazing.”

The music starts. A lone cellist on a special platform plays and I look up.

Sasha walks down the little sandy aisle in his bright-blue tuxedo and bare feet. His face is a scrunch of concentration as he holds a velvet black cushion with two rings on it.

He takes his time, like his little life depends on getting this right.

When Sasha reaches me, he looks up. “Daddy?”

I grin and go down on my knees and kiss his cheek. “You did great, Sasha. Perfect.”

And he beams.

I rise.

Next, Kara and Alina walk down that sandy aisle in their lavender dresses, looking stunning.

And then I see Erin.

Holy shit.

My mouth goes dry and my knees shake.

Erin smiles shyly at me, her blond hair swept up in a simple twist and she’s so fucking gorgeous, so utterly breathtaking I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe again.

How is this woman mine?

The dress is a tight ivory satin number that’s covered with delicate lace, and she glides, barefoot along the sand, simple red roses in her hands, fresh, like they’d been plucked that morning.

I hold out my hand. And she takes it, letting me pull her close so I can kiss her cheek. “You look fucking amazing. So beautiful, Lyubimaya.”

And her cheeks turn pink.

The celebrant begins, simple, to the point.

It’s my turn for my vows.

“Erin, when I met you, I knew you were different. It took us a minute to let fate bring us back together, but it did so with precious cargo. Sasha. And I know I’m blessed. I love you. With everything I am and ever could be. You’ve helped me grow to be a father I hope our children will be proud of. But it’s you. Always you, Erin. My Lyubimaya. You’re the sun and my stars. I love you.”

She blinks back tears as I slip on the ring.

“Demyan, I love you more than I can say. I’ve made mistakes in my life, but you were never one of them. You gave me Sasha, and more importantly, you’ve given me a family. Best of all, you’ve given me you. The secret you. The man inside. I will follow you anywhere. You are my life, you’re Sasha’s life, and you’ll be our baby’s life, too.”

“I’m naming the baby!” Sasha breathes.

Erin half laughs, and then she sobers, looking at me and the rest of the world fades. It’s just her and me.

“You’re everything, Demyan. Everything I never knew I wanted, everything I knew I did.” Then she motions me close. I step forward. Her voice drops so only I can hear. “Last night you said you loved me more than life itself. That’s private. But I wanted it in our vows. You told me that. And I wanted you to know I love you more than life itself. You, Demyan. You’re the best man I’ll ever know, and I’m humbled by your love.”

I kiss her softly. “I’m humbled by you. The best woman I’ll ever know.”

Then I step back. And she raises her voice. “Through the good times, the bad, through everything, Demyan, I promise I’ll always be there. Every step of the way.”

“Congratulations,” the celebrant says, “you’re officially husband and wife.”

Everyone cheers and claps and hollers. It’s a lot of noise for a small, intimate crowd.

And I’m so close to fucking tears it’s not funny.

Her last words said to everyone, I know what they were about. She’s letting me know I’ll never miss another moment of her life, of our children’s. Ever.

“You may kiss the bride,” the celebrant says, “again.”

And I do, our first one in our new chapter.

Her mouth is warm and welcoming, and as her tongue slides over mine, it’s full of promises of what waits for us tonight. I slide my arm around her, pulling her close, and suddenly I want to blow off the dinner and dancing and drag her to our honeymoon cottage and fuck her senseless, spend days like I planned, worshipping her, but I want to do it now.

Erin pulls back slightly, and her laughing blue eyes meet mine. It’s like she can read my mind.

“No way, Demyan. They’ll kill us.”

“If you know what I want, you want it, too.”

The scent of roses grows strong as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me again. “Because I want it too. Oh, the things I plan to do with you…”

“Do tell… or show…”

She laughs again. “Demyan, I promise you the night of your life after we’ve celebrated with everyone, including Sasha.”

“Fuck. Okay.”

But I’m not miffed. I pick Sasha up as we head back to the resort. The whole place has been transformed into a perfect fairy-tale ending. Flickering lanterns in the gardens that overlook the ocean, with tables set up and room to dance.

Even the pool glows with floating lights beyond its childproof gating.

We sit and eat, the laughter and conversation that flows almost negates my need for her now.

But she’s so fucking gorgeous, with the light in her hair, and even the ice-blue sapphire and diamond comb in her hair turns me on because it exposes her elegant neck.

I can see the light bruise I left when I sucked on a spot last night.

She adjusts Sasha’s napkin, but he’s wearing his dinner because he’s two. And I slide a hand up her thigh under the table, making her jump.

There’s lobster and seafood, lamb and chicken. And mac and cheese that Sasha’s demolishing.

“Demyan,” she whispers, batting my hand away, “behave.”

“Fuck no.” I grin at her. “Where’s the fun in that?”

But as much as I want my wife, I’m happy that my family and friends are here.

When Erin gets up to go to the bathroom, I seize the opportunity and follow her. The moment she steps out in the quiet of the resort’s main building, I take her hand and pull her back in, kissing her hard, devouring her.

Christ, she’s so fucking delicious. I lift my head and push her into the door of the bathroom. “You’re so fucking irresistible, Erin. All I can think of is ripping off that dress and fucking you senseless.”

“Really,” she breathes.

I kiss a path along her exposed throat. “Really, I want to pleasure you for hours.”

She bites her lip and gazes at me. “How is five minutes?”

“I can do five minutes.”

“It has to last you through the rest of dinner and the evening ahead. You have to then wait until we’re in our honeymoon cottage.”

“I can,” I say, lifting her and dumping her on the marble vanity, “do that.”

Stepping away for a moment, I flick the lock on the door, then come back to her, shoving her dress up over her thighs and around her waist.

I look down.

“Fuck.”

The lace of her panties is flimsy, narrow. It’s perfection. I nudge it out of the way and plunge my fingers into her, and then I kiss her hard all over again. I ravish her mouth as I finger fuck her, the tight, hot wetness of her cunt making me so goddamn hard I’m aching.

I change the kiss to seduction, making her chase my mouth, giving in to deep, passionate kisses before pulling away. She tastes like life. Like mine. Like pure and unchartered waters I somehow know, waters that thrill and hold secrets for me to uncover.

She moans, and I add my thumb, sliding over her clit as I work her with my fingers.

I kiss her throat, biting, sucking, and her pussy starts to tighten, her hands biting into me.

She comes hard, shuddering, her muscles clenching down on me as she does.

I pull out of her and she starts to reach for me but I pull her off the vanity and help adjust her dress.

“Demyan.”

“What?”

I glance at my watch, then at her, and I suck my fingers of her juices.

“You didn’t come. I can⁠—”

“Fuck no, that was four minutes. Under five. And…” I lean in and I kiss her softly. “I can wait.”

“Demyan,” she says, shock in her voice. “Is that enough to hold you?”

Her fingers brush over my erection.

But I pick up her hand and kiss it.

“It’s enough.” Then I run the fingers that I sucked, the fingers that were in her, under my nose. “The scent of you on my fingers is more than enough to get me through the next few hours. But…”

“What?”

I crowd her up against the door and rub in against her so she can feel the hardness, my needs, and I kiss her again. “But I’ll have no mercy on you later. You’re mine. All night.”

She smiles and puts a hand on my cheek. “Demyan, I promise you, I’m yours. Forever.”

EPILOGUE

Erin

Seven months later

“Push!”

The pain rips through me and the only thing keeping me sane is Demyan, the fucking bastard who got me into this mess for the second time.

“They… they spend half the time telling me not to, and now, when I don’t want to, they say push!”

He smiles. I growl.

“Push!” the midwife says.

There’s the midwife, the OB-GYN. The whole fucking staff in here.

And Demyan.

My husband.

The culprit.

And he smooths a hand over my cheek. “Push, Lyubimaya.”

“I hate you!”

“I know,” he says, “I love you. Push.”

I squeeze his fingers so hard I hurt my own, but his gaze, that light ice-blue gaze is unwavering as the contraction hits hard and this time, I push.

The world goes crazy inside as the baby I’ve carried for nine months isn’t in me anymore and a cry fills the air.

Demyan’s face is cracked open with love, astonishment, and wonder. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.

“What’s happening? Where’s my baby?”

“The doctor has her.”

“Healthy… Perfect…” The words drift to me and I look at my husband and he kisses my hand. He’s so perfect.

“Here…” The midwife hands the tiny, squalling thing, made even more tiny by his large hands, to Demyan and I know I got it wrong about perfect and beautiful. The two of them are.

“Look, Lyubimaya, look…”

“Congratulations, Mommy and Daddy,” the midwife says. “She’s a perfect little girl.”

It doesn’t kill me to let Demyan hold her and show her to me. I want him to have this moment and I start to cry because this big, strong, bad man is humbled by his daughter, and the love for her on his face breaks and heals my heart all at the same time.

But this is Demyan, and he brings her to me, putting her in my arms, and touches her tiny feet. “Look what we made,” he says.

I smile. I don’t even remember the pain that ripped through me and made me want to kill. “Another perfect one.”

“Are we really letting Sasha name her?”

“Of course.”

Later, when I’ve been checked over, and the baby has received a more thorough checkup, I’m in my private room.

Demyan hasn’t stopped smiling and even though I thought he’d faint when he peeked as the baby started crowning, he didn’t and he sat with me, my rock, the man of my dreams.

I don’t want a man who’s flashy. I’ve seen the photos of all the parties that Stefina and her husband go to. She likes to drop in to tell me about them and Alina’s told me to tolerate her as our husbands talk business, but while we’ll never ever be friends, I’m fine with that.

Because I want what I have. Excitement in bed. A man who loves me without any measure, and one who’s an amazing father.

Everything in my life has fallen into place. Because of him and Sasha and now our baby.

And next year, Kara and I are going to start our business. I’m thrilled, but honestly? I’m more thrilled to be Demyan’s wife and the mother to his children. The business is just the cherry on top of perfection.

“There’s an army out there, wanting to see the baby,” Demyan says, stepping into the room with Sasha. “But big brother gets to be first.”

Sasha looks around. “Where is my baby?”

Like Demyan’s set it up, which I know he has, the staff bring her in, and Demyan sits Sasha down on a big chair and puts the baby in his arms, showing him how to hold her while he stays close, supporting her head.

I start to cry as Sasha’s face lights up with joy. “Mama she is so pretty, like you.”

“What did you decide, Sasha?”

He looks at his dad. And Demyan mouths a word.

“Poppy,” Sasha says. “Her name is Poppy.”

And I look at them.

My little family.

It’s perfect.

My life is perfect.

Because of love.

Ilya and Alina’s story Scarlet Vows and Scarlet Promise is coming soon…

If you love one night stands, surprise pregnancies, and an obsessive, possessive mafia daddy—Ruthless Mafia Daddy is for you.

Keep reading for a sneak peek.

LILA

Why am I even here? Why do I keep letting other people make the decisions for me? Rule my life? Hurt me?

Like Sam.

It’s been a while now, but the wound is still there.

I’m not ready for this at all. I’m not ready to get back out there. Not ready to open myself up to love again. Because love will chew you up and spit you out.

Again, like Sam.

I thought I’d be engaged to the man of my dreams by now. Maybe even happily married.

The joke is on me, I guess. Who knew that dream would turn out to be the nightmare of all nightmares. And after this long, I’m still waiting to wake up.

What’s the one good thing to come out of what happened?

I wish I could say this date, but unless the dude sitting opposite me has a personality transplant in the next twenty seconds, this is a colossal waste of my time.

As I knew it might be. As I told my best friend it would be.

But did she listen? Did it stop her from forcing me to be here?

No.

His nasal voice pulls me out of one bad place and into another.

“It’s fun because people consider the game a slightly more complex form of rock/paper/scissors. But in actuality, it is more like chess. You get a team preview, and you have to determine how your team matches up against the other and you control a handful of the stats so there is a lot of ways you can throw off your opponent by making a Pokémon more defensive or faster or something along those lines.”

Pokémon? All I know about Pokémon is that there is a cute little yellow rat that shoots lightning from its cheeks and has Ryan Reynolds‘s voice.

Do I even care?

Apparently, it doesn’t matter either way. He doesn’t need my input on it anyway because he doesn’t even stop to look at me.

“Did you know speed is an important stat in Pokémon? So, training them to be just the right speed to out-speed one of its weaknesses can be a major boon in a battle.” He takes a sip of his beer. “At least for a best of one battle. If it is best of three, then you might want to preserve some of those secrets for a later game if you think that will give you the upper hand.”

Speaking of speed, I can’t believe I spent a good three hours getting ready for this. Cassi owes me big time.

And it feels like I’ve been here forever. I look at my phone. Two minutes to eight. Almost one hour into this date, and I’ve been ready for it to end from minute one.

“And now with newer games, there is a thing called "tera" where you change your Pokémon’s typing in the middle of a battle. You can only do it once per battle, but if you have a Pokémon that might be quad weak to a fairy move and then have it tera-steel, then it suddenly resists fairy moves.”

I smile and sigh. I wish I had a tera thingy or even a fairy move, whatever that is, so I could just fly out of here or poof out of thin air.

“Oh?” I check my phone. Again.

Come on, why is time all but frozen?

My best friend, Cassi, is the reason I’m on this shitty date, and she better keep her end of this deal and give me an out in…one minute and forty-three seconds. She promised.

Then again, she also assured me the guy was nice, and that we had a lot in common.

So far, he’s not living up to my very low expectations.

That’s okay. I can endure one minute and… thirty-six seconds.

God.

“Lately, I really like Weezing. He got a new ability last generation called "Neutralizing Gas" that removes the abilities of all other Pokémon on the field. So, you can negate some beneficial ones from your opponent. Or negate some negative ones from your side.” His smile is all for himself. “There is also Ogrepon. She’s adorable and wears a mask but is super powerful. Her stats are just really good and her ability and typing change based on which mask she is wearing.”

Breathe. You have only…

My eyes fly to my phone again, and I have to swallow a groan.

How is it that there is still one minute and eighteen seconds to go? This thing has to be broken. There is no way time is moving this slowly.

Can I wear one of those magical masks and teleport out of here? Or maybe have him ooze back to where he came from?

“Back in 2016 when I was in the tournament, I was able to predict how I could lose if a certain Pokémon went down. So, even though I was about to go down to one Pokémon, I was able to preserve the ability because the big thing was weather control that year. And since I preserved that Pokémon, I made it to where I still won the game one V. two because I had won the weather war.”

“Uh, that sounds…” I have no idea how to finish that sentence, so I just glance around the bar.

Is there a clock around here somewhere?

I don’t find one.

“So, the big Pokémon back then were Kyogre, Groudon, and Rayquaza and they all had the ability to mega evolve. Kyogre's ability was called Primordial Sea and summoned the rain on the field for as long as it was out. Groudon had Desolate Land which summoned the sun, which usually weakens water and powers up fire, you know, but Desolate land negates it. Those were cool.”

Man, I’m the desolate one. Why me?

I need a drink. Or ten.

My eyes find the glass of red wine in front of me, untouched after that first sip.

It tastes like paint thinner.

Dirk insisted on paying, but only after confirming the cheapest option on the menu.

Can anyone say red flag?

Seriously, where did Cassi find this guy? Craigslist?

Do I really seem that desperate and alone?

The thought makes my stomach churn.

“But the weather wars would happen because if both players brought out their primal Pokémon in the beginning, the faster one activates their ability first, and then the slower one activates the ability. So, the slower one would win the weather war on turn one, because they get to keep their weather.”

“That’s, uh…nice.” I force a smile.

Twenty-seven more seconds.

“Any time you’re ready, Cassi…” I mutter, letting out a long breath.

Glancing around the bar, I can’t help but notice the dozens of happy couples drinking cocktails and roaming their hands all over each other—not caring they’re in the middle of a crowded bar. Because when you’re in love, the rest of the world seems to disappear.

I thought I had that with Sam.

I was wrong.

I’ve been let down one too many times by the men in my life—each one leaving a crack in my heart—and Sam was the catalyst that finally shattered it. And no amount of cheap vino and Ben and Jerry’s has glued it back together.

Work has been my refuge. Started there straight out of college and over this last year, I’ve managed to be promoted to executive assistant to the CEO.

Who needs a man when I have a laptop and a corner office with a view of the Hudson, right? That and a fucking good vibrator with ten settings.

That helps too.

One fleeting look at my phone shows me it’s eight already, and the phone is not ringing.

What the hell, Cassi? Just call already.

“So, a general strat would be to bring out your weather Pokémon to determine speeds of your opponent’s primal, or to keep your primal in the back so your enemy doesn't know if they are going to be able to get off a fire attack.”

Oh lord, please send a fire attack my way.

I listen to him drone for what feels like an hour more about Pokémon and wars and stats before I check my phone. Again.

How is it only nine past eight.

It doesn’t matter.

I think it’s safe to say that Cassi isn’t going to save me from this date, so I’m going to have to do it myself.

“I’m sorry. I need to visit the ladies’ room for a sec.”

I move to slide off my stool when a warm hand cups my elbow as if to help me down.

Jerking, I turn to look over my shoulder.

My eyes land on the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry to interrupt.” His voice is deep and rough as eyes the color of onyx flick to my mouth, and my breath hitches.

Who is this man and where has he been all my life?

Continue to read Ruthless Mafia Daddy...

ANDRE

Five years.

Sixty months.

One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days.

Forty-three thousand, eight hundred and twenty-four hours.

And each one has felt like a lifetime.

The pain of loss is as strong today as it was when I first learned about it.

A pain that shatters my insides every minute of every hour of every day.

And the worst part is I lost more than just her. I lost the whole life I had planned for us. Marriage, kids, grandkids. She was my happily ever after.

Now all I have is an empty ever after.

But every day I have to get out of bed because I have people depending on me. My men, my siblings.

I don’t have time to break down. I don’t have time to mourn. I have to be there for all of them. Because their survival, their well-being is my responsibility.

This day is the only day I allow myself to feel.

I gulp down my second double scotch on the rocks and wave a passing waiter for another. It’s going to take close to a whole bottle to help my mind get fuzzy enough to not remember as clearly that my life is over.

Part of me hopes that with each passing year, the weight of the grief will lift, even just an inch. Enough where the world isn’t clouded in darkness, where I might see past the veil.

But no amount of drinking or fucking or killing seems to help.

Death is everywhere. Except…

For five years, I‘ve tried to get the man behind my misery. To make him pay.

For five years I’ve failed. Just like I failed to protect her.

And this need for justice, for vengeance consumes me.

At this point, I’m pretty sure if someone were to cut me open, darkness would spill out and all that would be left of me was an empty shell and a blackened heart.

The only thing that keeps this shattered thing somewhat beating is my family. Or what’s left of it.

I lean back in the plush velvet chair and scan the room once more, my eyes finding the stunner sitting at the bar once more.

She’s checked her phone six times in the past two minutes alone.

I clench the glass of scotch in my hand, watching as the fuckwit opposite her rattles on and on about god knows what, paying more attention to the beer in his hand than to the absolutely drop-dead gorgeous woman sitting opposite him.

And I mean gorgeous.

The way she’s crossed her legs has made her short black dress ride up, exposing tanned thighs that make my hands itch to run all over them.

Fuck, if I was sat opposite her, I’d find a way to have my hands on her immediately. To confirm that her skin is as warm and as soft as it appears to be.

Her long brown curls are loose around her slim shoulders, practically shimmering under the low orange lights of the bar.

She glances around. Her demeanor is tight, like she is nervous. Her back is straight ramrod-looking, her eyes wide and restless.

Shit, is this guy making her uncomfortable?

Why do I care? I should be drinking myself into oblivion tonight and stumbling home to my little brother and sister.

Speaking of, I check my phone.

Seven messages from Marco complaining about our sister.

I can’t hold my chuckle in. Rosa may be the youngest at fifteen, but she is a force to be reckoned with.

I glance at the goddess at the bar once more.

Maybe I should indulge tonight. Let myself go. She looks like she could help me forget.

Before my brain registers what is happening, I’m out of my chair and crossing the distance between us.

As she tries to climb off the stool, I reach for her elbow, her skin as warm to the touch as I imagined it. My fingers tingle from the contact.

Her muscles tense under my hand, and eyes of the palest blue meet mine.

Fuck, she is even more gorgeous up close. I can’t help but flick my gaze to those pouty red lips.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” I start, letting the corners of my mouth lift into a smirk, “but if I have to listen to this fuckwit talking about stats and battles and whatnot for one more second, I may just start killing people.”

The woman lets out a nervous laugh, glancing sidelong at her date.

I lean in a little closer until her perfume hits my nose, and I bite back a moan. Vanilla and orange blossom. Delicious, just like her.

“You look incredible in that dress, by the way.” I let my eyes fully take her in, appreciating the way her clothes hug her curves.

Her pale blue eyes widen, and she hides a smile as her date jumps to his feet.

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that,” he growls, fists clenched as he confronts me. “We’re in the middle of a fucking date, man.”

I let out a long breath, letting my eyes flick to that sensual mouth once more before I turn to face the dickwad who thinks he has a chance against me. I scoff. “Are you?”

This gamer boy who looks like he’s barely out of adolescence is at least half a foot shorter than my six-foot-four. It’s pitiful at best.

“Because as I see it, you’ve been so self-focused that you haven’t asked her a single question about her life or interests.” I shrug. “If you’re so happy talking to yourself about yourself, don’t let us stop you, but the lady deserves a compliment and to be part of a real conversation.”

He sputters, red in the face, but no words come out.

I shake my head. “No wonder you’re still living with your parents, Dirk.”

He blinks, gasping.

I ignore him. I’m here for the goddess, not him. Turning my back on him, I get lost in the icy blue of her eyes. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“L-Lila.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I reach for her hand and bring it up to my lips.

I revel in the way her breath catches as I press my lips to her smooth skin. “I’m Andre.”

I don’t fail to notice the way goosebumps cover her bare arms at my touch.

Dirk’s hand lands on my shoulder. “What the fuck⁠—”

I round on him before he even has a chance to utter another word, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the bar. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“And why is that?” His eyes spark with challenge.

“Because I own this place, and I will have you thrown out on your ass if you don’t back the fuck off.”

Dirk scoffs, rolling his eyes. “That’s bullshit. You’re lying.”

“Does it look like bullshit to you, Lila?” I glance at her.

Lila is wide-eyed as she glances between Dirk and me, but she shakes her head.

“She’s my date,” he seethes, fists clenching, spit flying everywhere.

“Was. She was your date. You lost your chance when you acted like it didn’t matter if she was even there. She’s deserves better, so she is my date now.”

Dirk’s eyes flash as he looks to Lila, and I bite back a laugh.

Does this poor excuse for a man really think that she will choose to stay with him?

“What time was your ‘out’ supposed to call?” I ask Lila over my shoulder.

Those icy blue eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been looking at that phone of yours throughout the entire date.” I smirk. “Not that Dirk here would’ve noticed. I assume you’re waiting for someone to call. A call where you’ll learn about an emergency that is sadly going to cut your date short. So, again, what time?”

She flushes, biting on her lip, eyes dropping to my chest. I like that a little too much.

“Eight,” she mutters under her breath.

I chuckle, nodding. “I think it’s time you get some better friends.”

A ghost of a smile makes her pouty lips even more appealing.

I tear my eyes from her and aim them at Dirk as I tighten my grip on his shirt.

Holding tight and turning toward the door, I start dragging him toward the exit. “Now, I think it’s time you leave Lila and me to our date.”

I glance back to Lila who’s clearly trying not to laugh at the sight of Dirk trying to bat me away. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be right here.”

Her eyes flick over my body, and everywhere it touches, it leaves a trail of fire on my skin.

I can’t help the feral grin that spreads across my face.

Holding on to my hands as he tries not to lose his footing, Dirk doesn’t protest much as we reach the door.

Jerry, one of my men, is waiting right outside the door. When he sees me, he unfolds his arms and smiles at me. “Oh, hey boss. Taking out the trash?”

“Yeah, mind seeing to it? I can’t stay. Have a gorgeous woman waiting for me at the bar.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

I toss Dirk at Jerry. “Enjoy your night, asshole.”

Continue to read Ruthless Mafia Daddy...

ALSO BY KIRA COLE

Koslov Bratva

Sinful Oath

Sinful Lies

Sinful Wrath

Sinful Betrayal

Sinful Scars

Sinful Promise

The Burkes Mafia

Vengeful Vows

Vengeful Guards

Vengeful Secrets

Vengeful Union

La Famiglia Russo Series

Off-Limits Protector Daddy

Enemy Mafia Boss Daddy

Mafia Daddy Next Door

Alpha Mafia Daddies Series

Mafia Boss’s Surprise Baby

Best Friend’s Brother’s Surprise Baby

Secret Mafia Daddy

Mobster’s Obsession

Rapture and Ruin

Sins and Secrets

Marriage and Malice

Exile and Embrace

BONUS NOVELLA

My best friend trusted me to protect her.

But who will protect her from me?

I would do anything for the Marino family mafia—and I have.

I am Leonardo Marino’s go-to “muscle”,

the guy who does all his dirty work,

the man who spent ten years in jail for him.

Watching over his spoiled mafia princess of a daughter should be a piece of cake in comparison.

Except it’s not.

Because Yasmin Marino is determined to make this hard for me.

Her bright green eyes, black hair, and sinful mouth will be my undoing, and those curves she hides under her skin-tight clothes should be illegal.

I know she’s eighteen years younger than me, but judging by those little boyfriends she tries to sneak past me, she’s never been with a real man.

When I finally give in and make her mine, I mark her forever.

Now that she’s pregnant with my child, there’s no return.

I will make every sacrifice to keep them safe. Even if it means losing them...

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