The possessiveness used to scare me, even piss me off a little. Now it just makes me feel safe and wanted.
I set down my book, watching him. This man who crashed into my life bleeding and desperate, who somehow became everything I didn't know I needed.
"What?" he asks, catching me staring.
"I was just thinking."
"About?"
"About how six months ago, I was drowning. Alone. Terrified. Breaking myself for a business that was failing no matter how hard I tried."
"And now?"
"Now I'm pregnant with a Bratva soldier's baby, living on a family compound, watching my bakery thrive without me, and I'm happier than ever."
His hands still on my feet. "You're happy?"
"Yes. Ridiculously happy.
He shifts, pulling me into his lap carefully, mindful of my belly. "Whatever comes, whatever happens, we handle it together. You're not alone anymore, Lily. You never will be again."
Tears prick my eyes. Hormones, probably. But also truth.
“Besides, even if you wanted to leave, I don’t think Jasmine would let you. She likes that the women are starting to equal the men…” He trails off and I let out a short laugh.
"I love you." The words slip out before I can stop them. We haven't said it yet, despite everything. Despite the marriage that happened the day after I found out I was pregnant. Despite the life we're building.
His expression softens. "Say it again."
"I love you, Zakhar. Even though you're possessive and overbearing and you make decisions without asking me first sometimes."
"I love you too. Even though you're stubborn and you fight me on everything and you refuse to let me carry you up the stairs even though you're six months pregnant."
"I can still walk up stairs," I huff.
"Not the point."
I kiss him lightly on the mouth. Taking a moment to just feel the kiss when he returns it, one hand cradling my face, the other pressed protectively over our son.
"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.
"For what?"
"For bleeding on my doorstep. For being too stubborn to leave. For seeing something in me worth keeping."
"I should be thanking you. For opening the door. For saving my life. For giving me everything I didn't know I wanted."
The baby kicks again, hard enough that we both feel it. Zakhar's hand spreads wider over my belly, thumb stroking gently.
"He's going to be a fighter," he says.
"With you as his father? Absolutely."
"And you as his mother. Smart, strong, fearless."
"I'm not fearless."
"You opened the door to a bleeding stranger who is three times the size of you. That's pretty fearless."
