“Of course I’d like a son one day,” he says. “More children, eventually. Boys, girls, doesn’t matter to me. But only when you’re ready.”
He tips up my chin. His hold is so gentle, I feel like I could cry.
“And if Lilia is the only daughter we’ll ever have… then I’m good with that, too.” His gaze is surprisingly soft. “Because she’s ours.”
I want to believe him so badly. I do.
But… “What about your Bratva?”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know.” I gesture wildly. “Succession. Drama. All that Habsburg nonsense that always seems to be going down.”
He shakes his head. “Habsburg? Really?”
“It’s the first name that popped into my head.” I shrug. “You’re the history buff, not me.”
“Right.” He pulls me close. “My hold on my Bratva is strong, Sima. No one’s challenging me. And Dimitri’s recovery—it’ll take time. A long time. Though I hope not that long.”
“Of course,” I whisper. “We all do.”
“If we don’t have another child before he does, then fine. It’s not a competition. We’ll sort that out when we get there.” His voice softens. “You and Lilia come first. Always. The rest is just noise.”
The tension in me starts to crack. I turn to face him. His eyes are clear, no shadow there, no hint of cruelty. Just my Petyr. The one who wakes up in the middle of the night to check the baby monitor. Who brings me tea when I’m too tired to move and falls asleep sitting up, with our daughter curled up on his chest.
“You mean that?” I choke out.
He nods. “Every word.”
Something breaks open in my chest. Relief hits hard, sharp at first, then warm. I press my face against his neck and breathe him in. He smells like cedarwood and ash. A forest fire.
I don’t know how I got here. An arrangement that started with blackmail and kidnapping somehow turned into this.
I think about the wedding where I met him. The bride who stole a car and ran away. I’d envied her back then.
Now, I can’t thank her enough for walking away.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “Okay.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Okay,” he repeats.
I don’t know when I drift off to sleep. Maybe it’s seconds later, maybe hours. All I know is that we stay like that, curled into each other, the steady beat of our hearts in sync.
We have a daughter. A beautiful, healthy baby girl. A family.
We have each other.
And if that’s enough for Petyr…
Then it’s enough for me, too.
46
PETYR
I’m halfway through my coffee when I hear the sharp tap of heels against the kitchen tile.
“Petyr,” Kira greets with a pleasant smile. “You’re up early.”
