“What?” I asked, watching the shift.
“You mentioned his name.” Her voice had gone flat. “Sebastian. It’s—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
But I’d seen it. The way her whole demeanor changed at the mention of her stepbrother. The way fear and rage and something deeper—trauma—flickered across her face.
“Barbara—”
“I’m tired.” She stood abruptly, and I rose with her. “I appreciate you coming here. I appreciate the apology. But I need time to process everything. The pregnancy. Sebastian. You. All of it.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist we figure this out now, wanted to push until I had answers and plans and some semblance of control over this situation that felt increasingly chaotic.
But pushing wouldn’t help. Wouldn’t make her trust me faster. Would only drive her further away.
“Okay.” I nodded slowly. “Take the time you need. But I’m not disappearing again, Barbara. Even if you don’t see me, I’m watching. I’m making sure you’re safe. I’m….”
“Stalking me?” She raised an eyebrow, and there was a hint of humor beneath the exhaustion.
“Protecting you,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Debatable.” But some of the tension had eased from her shoulders.
I moved toward the door, then stopped. Turned back. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“I meant it about Sebastian. Whatever he has on you, whatever secret you’re carrying, it doesn’t change anything. Not for me. Not for us. Not for that baby.” I held her gaze, willing her to believe me. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen. And whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
She didn’t respond. Just stood there looking small and tired and more alone than anyone should ever look in a house this big.
I let myself out, hearing the door close behind me. Every instinct screamed at me to go back. To stay. To camp out in her foyer until she accepted that I wasn’t leaving.
But instinct wasn’t always right. Sometimes the best way to protect someone was to give them space. To let them come to you instead of forcing proximity they weren’t ready for.
I climbed into my car, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to make my knuckles white.
A few weeks ago, I’d been focused on finding Douglas. On revenge and promises and keeping my life compartmentalized. Now everything had exploded into chaos. Barbara. The baby. Sebastian. A web of complications I didn’t know how to untangle.
Vladimir was right. She was mine to protect now.
And I’d die before I let Sebastian Davis touch her again.
Chapter 17 – Barbara
The conversation had shifted without me realizing it.
One moment, we were talking about the baby, about his promise to stay, about the impossibility of everything. The next, Kirill was looking at me with an intensity that made my breath catch, and I knew where this was heading.
“We should get married.”
The words hung in the air between us like a grenade with the pin pulled.
I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“Married.” He said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. Like we were discussing dinner plans instead of a lifelong commitment. “You’re pregnant with my child. In my world, that means marriage.”
Panic clawed up my throat. “Kirill….”
“It makes sense.” He was already planning, I could see it in his eyes. The calculations. The logistics. “You need protection. The baby needs legitimacy. Bratva takes care of its own, and marriage makes it official. Makes you—”
