“Which was?” I prompted as he brought my hand around his neck.
“To marry someone, anyone from a good family with no genetic issues and a male-dominated bloodline. A mafia family was the top choice. She’d stay here; this would be her room. We’d have sex a couple of times until she became pregnant. If the child were a boy, she’d nurse him for a year before she signed divorce papers and also signed off her rights to the child. If it were a girl, she’d remain here until she got pregnant again and gave birth to a boy.”
“And then you’d divorce her?” I asked.
“And then I’d divorce her.”
“Why?” I inquired. “I mean, why would anyone make such a plan for themselves? A solitary life forever? A child without motherly love? A heartbroken woman whose husband and kid are yanked out of her hands?”
“The Bratva is my life,” he explained with a sigh. “It used to be. I had no time for taking women on dates or watching movies with a lover. Besides, I was decidedly uninterested in the whole relationship thing. I see other mafia bosses who swear they are in love with their spouses, yet they still chase after anything in a skirt, and their wives always make it clear that they don’t care- it’s all about the money. I chose not to live beneath a façade.”
“That’s sad,” I uttered.
“And then you came into my life and showed me that my life is bigger than the Bratva.”
A tinge of sadness washed over me as I thought of what could have happened had Viktor not been able to rescue me on time.
They could have taken this bundle of joy from me. From us.
People who had no idea how much this means to us could have destroyed it. They could have ended our baby’s life before he even had the chance to see what living looks like.
Why do I keep saying ‘our ’?
What if Viktor isn’t ready to raise a child yet?
He's still learning to be a good husband; having a kid on the way might be too much pressure.
My body vibrated in fear as I imagined a negative reaction from him.
My train of thought stopped as Viktor stirred and his gray eyes landed on mine.
“Moy zaychik,” he whispered, his voice as dreamy as his eyes.
“Viktor,” I breathed as his eyes raked over my face like he was looking for something.
“I’m awake,” I answered, chuckling. “And you’re not dreaming.”
Then he sprang up like the plastic chair had suddenly pricked him.
Another stream of tears flowed down my face as he released my hand and bent to embrace me.
“I was scared,” he disclosed. “So worried that you may not come back to me. The doctor kept saying you will, but time was passing, and you wouldn’t move.”
“I’m sorry I put you through all that stress,” I remarked, my voice coming out small.
“No, no,” he countered, his stubble brushing my cheek. “I was the one who failed at protecting you. Those bastards scared and threatened you…”
“Hey,” I interrupted, my palm on the sides of his face. “Did you ask your men to stop protecting me, knowing they were coming for me?”
“Of course not,” he answered without missing a beat, a frown on his face.
“So, we agree that it was nobody’s fault, and it doesn’t even matter because you came for me?”
“As my literal knight in shining armor. You saved me,” I added with a smile when he didn’t say anything.
He kissed my forehead before resting his against it, his eyes closed.
“I love you, Viktor,” I uttered.
