Page 185 of Betrayal and Vows

"Now?"

"Now I can't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else." I turn in his arms to face him. "I have something to tell you."

His expression immediately becomes alert. "Is everything okay? The baby?—"

"The baby is fine," I assure him quickly. "Better than fine, actually. I felt movement yesterday. Just little flutters, but definitely movement."

The wonder that crosses his face makes my heart skip. "Really?"

"Really. Our little one is getting stronger every day."

He drops to his knees right there on the terrace, his hands gentle on my small bump. "Hey there, little one," he murmurs. "This is your papa. I can't wait to meet you."

The tenderness in his voice brings tears to my eyes. This man who was trained to kill, who spent thirty years believing he was nothing but a weapon, speaks to our unborn child with such love and reverence.

"I love you," I whisper, running my fingers through his dark hair.

"I love you both," he replies, pressing a soft kiss to my belly before standing. "More than I ever thought possible."

He sighs and I can tell there is something on his mind. I sensed it earlier, but I didn’t want to ruin our perfect day.

"The Petrov family reached out again today," Anton says quietly.

I tense slightly. This is a conversation we've been avoiding for weeks. "What did they want?"

"The same thing everyone wants. They want me to take control of what's left of the Orlov organization." His jaw tightens. "They think because I'm Vadim's biological son, I have some kind of claim to his empire."

"Do you?"

"Legally? Maybe. But that's not the point." He wraps his arms around me. "The point is what kind of life we want for our child."

This is the heart of our dilemma. In the two months since Vadim's death, the power vacuum has created chaos throughout Moscow's underworld. Different factions are vying for control, and many see Anton as the legitimate heir—the one person who could unite the fractured organization.

"What do you want to do?" I ask carefully.

"Part of me wants to burn it all down," he admits. "Dismantle everything Vadim built and walk away clean."

"And the other part?"

His eyes darken. "The other part knows that nature abhors a vacuum. If I don't take control, someone else will. Someone potentially worse than Vadim. Someone who might decide that his loose ends—including us—need to be tied up permanently."

It's the same circular argument we've been having for weeks. Walking away means giving up any influence over who fills the power vacuum but staying means raising our child in the world of violence and corruption that nearly destroyed us both.

"The Kozlov family sent an emissary yesterday," I tell him. "While you were at physical therapy."

Anton's posture changes immediately, becoming more alert. "What did they want?"

"Alliance. They're willing to back your claim in exchange for territorial concessions." I fidget with my wedding ring, still getting used to the weight of it. His mother’s ring is on my right-hand ring finger. "They seem to think it's inevitable that you'll take over."

"Everyone seems to think that." Frustration bleeds into his voice. "Dmitri thinks I should do it. Elena thinks I should run. You..." He looks at me intently. "You haven't told me what you think."

I've been dreading this moment when he would ask me directly for my opinion. Because the truth is, I don't know what the right answer is.

"I think," I say slowly, "that whatever you decide, we'll face it together. But I also think you need to decide what kind of father you want to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you want to be the kind of father who teaches our child to shoot before they can ride a bike? Do you want them to grow up knowing that Daddy kills people for a living?" I place my hand on my stomach. "Or do you want to be the kind of father who coaches soccer and helps with homework and worries about normal things like grades and curfews?"