“Dmitri!” he barks into the intercom. He spins back to me, frantic. “Where are the bags? I packed three—yours, the baby’s, snacks. Are you in any pain? Contractions? Why didn’t you—Nika!” he yells toward the door. “Cancel my day, call the driver—now!”
“Breathe, Vladimir,” I say, gripping the chair as a cramp rolls through me.
He plants both hands on the desk and takes a few deep breaths. “Right. Ground transport. New York–Presbyterian.”
“Lenox Hill,” I correct. “The birthing suite. The one you had security audit three times.”
“Lenox Hill,” he repeats. “Yes. Should I carry you?”
“No, just help me stand. Slowly.”
He offers both hands. I stand, absurdly happy. He looks at the wet floor again, face crumpling with a kind of awe. “You’re… we’re…”
“Having a baby,” I supply, just as the door flies open and Dmitri rushes in, silver tie askew.
“What happened?” Dmitri asks, looking as if he’s ready to fight someone before his eyes land on the wet floor then me. “Ah.”
“My wife is in labor,” Vlad announces, unnecessarily loud.
Dmitri’s gaze flicks to my face. “How far apart?”
“Just started,” I say. “Like, literally.”
He nods, already on his phone. “Car’s inbound. Elevator locked to this floor. Security en route to the garage. I’ll ride up front.”
“Lenox Hill,” Vlad adds, as if Dmitri hasn’t memorized the plan he scripted six weeks ago. “Call Dr. Kornilov, tell him we’re fourteen minutes out. No, thirteen.” He checks his watch like he can bully time. “Someone find the bag with the?—”
Nika appears in the doorway holding two sleek duffel bags and a Ziploc stuffed with enough granola and protein bars to feed a small village. “Already grabbed, Mr. Angeloff.”
“Bless you,” I tell her, gritting my teeth as another practice wave rolls through. “Also, apologize to Facilities for the mess. And maybe send someone to bring my rosemary from my desk back home?”
“Consider it done,” she says, and at that moment I love her enough to put her in my will.
Vlad is back at my side, one palm on the small of my back, the other hovering like he’ll catch the baby if it decides to come out right then. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable. The man who talks down mayors and breaks syndicates is rattled by impending fatherhood, and it is wildly, achingly endearing.
“I’ve got you,” he says fiercely. “I’ve got you both.”
“I know,” I say, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
Dmitri clears his throat. “Car’s at the curb.”
Vlad steadies me and I loop an arm around his neck. We make it to the door as a third, sharper contraction snatches my breath, and I lean into him, forehead to his chest. In this moment, Icherish the fact that the scariest man I know is terrified—and I have never felt safer.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Let’s have a baby,” I reply and he laughs, shaky and helpless, kissing my hair before we take one more step toward the life we’ve been destined for since the day we met.
The drive blurs into lights and contractions. By the time we reach Lenox Hill, I’m sweating through my coat. Vlad looks calm and in control. Nurses sweep me into triage, brisk but kind. A quick check and I hear, “She’s fully dilated. Baby’s coming fast.”
One moment I’m gripping Vlad’s hand, the next I’m rolled into a room that looks more like a luxury hotel suite than a hospital. Large windows open over Manhattan, the skyline hazy with snow and practically glowing. The bed is wide, the lighting soft, the walls hushed in cream and pale green.
Vlad barely registers any of it—he’s glued to my side, thumb stroking the back of my hand.
Then it’s all sound and effort. Breathe and push, squeeze and burn, the world narrowing to a rhythm I fall into on instinct. Vlad whispers encouragements into my ear as the doctor and nurses speak them loudly. His grip is steady and strong, anchoring me through every contraction.
And then—release. A cry, sharp and furious, fills the suite like fanfare. My body collapses.
“He’s here,” a nurse says.
