“I’m pregnant. You got me pregnant. Ava’s gonna have a sibling.” I let out a squeal as Art’s moan of arousal turns into a roar of pleasure. He doesn’t need to, but he’s coming inside me again anyway.
When I’m showered and curled up on his chest, stroking my hands over his pecs, he murmurs: “You know, I have a surprise for you too.”
I prop myself up to look down at him. “Oh yeah?”
He hands me an antique box. I trace my hands over the gilt patterns on the outside. When I open it, it takes me a second toprocess what I’m seeing.
A knife. A gold-handled, tiny knife with a leather sheath that looks like it’s meant to go around my thigh.
It takes my breath away, the metal intricately patterned with vine leaves that match the engagement ring he gave me. I gasp, turning the shining blade to reflect the light. How is a knife somehow more breathtaking than my engagement ring?
“I thought you didn’t want me to stab you again.”
“You’re one of us now, Nenoka. I hope you won’t, but you might need it.”
“The handle matches my ring.”
“I know. Probably the same metalwork. It was Vanya’s mother’s, too. She said you earned it.”
I press it against Art’s throat, and he smiles lazily — so sure that I won’t kill him.
I still haven’t forgiven Vanya. But I am keeping this knife.
EPILOGUE
ARTYOM
Six months later…
The last time I did this, it was for the wrong reasons. I never asked. I never got down on one knee. I never made sure Nina saw how much I love her in front of a roomful of people. Tonight, that all changes, just as it damn well should.
My wife is across the room, deep in conversation with Lisette. The shimmering crimson gown she’s wearing is regal and sexy, the draped fabric showing off her baby bump. Her curves are filling out with every passing week. She tips her head back and laughs, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulders.
I think her and Lisette have bonded over being outsiders. Youwouldn’t know it — Lisette fits perfectly into the Bratva, while Nina has gained a kind of notoriety as rumors about Polina’s death have spread. Fuelled, I am sure, by Babushka, who is looking on at this event with a twinkle in her eye.
When I approach, Lisette’s face lights up and she gives me a very unsubtle thumbs up. I don’t know how the Viktor Zakharov, the unpleasant bastard he is, managed to find someone who is his polar opposite.
Today was the baptism of Lisette and Viktor’s first child, and the entirety of the Bratva is packed into the after-party.
The perfect setting to do this the way it should have been done from the start.
I asked our hosts’ permission out of respect. Viktor made a face as though he didn’t understand why I was bothering him with this question. On the other hand, Lisette gushed for ten minutes about how she was honored that I wanted to do it at their event. They make an odd couple. She’s warm to everyone, and Viktor is only warm to her.
“I think your husband has something to say, Nina,” Lisette says, pointing me out as soon as I approach. Then she clinks her knife against her champagne glass so that every head in the room turns towards us.
With a dramatic flourish, she gestures towards me.
Everyone’s watching. Good.
I take Nina’s hands in mine, watching her face move from amusement to surprise as she realizes that this is about her.
Then I get down on one knee.
Nina looks down at me with a confused look on her face, but she can’t stop a smile from twitching at the corner of her mouth. She places a hand on my shoulder.
“Artyom… I’m the one recovering from a head injury here. You’re aware that we’re already married, right?”
“Nenoka, this isn’t about asking you to marry me. This is about asking you to love me. It’s different.”
