I make my way to the bedroom I share with Dimitri, grateful when I find it empty and quiet. I kick off my shoes and sink onto the bed, not bothering to change out of my clothes.Just five minutes, I tell myself. Just five minutes of rest.
I wake to the feeling of gentle hands on my feet. My eyes flutter open to find Dimitri sitting at the end of the bed, carefully removing my shoes. The room is lit only by the lamp on the nightstand.
"I fell asleep," I say, my voice rough.
"You needed it." He sets my shoes aside and moves up the bed, his hands finding my ankles and beginning to massage them with firm, steady pressure. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Overwhelmed. Pregnant." I close my eyes as his thumbs work magic on my sore feet. "How did the damage control go?"
"It went." His voice is carefully neutral, which means it didn't go well. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight is just for us."
I open my eyes and study his face. He looks exhausted too, lines of tension around his mouth and eyes. The silver threading through his dark hair at the temples seems more pronounced in the lamplight. "Dimitri, if you need to work, I understand."
"I don't need to work." His hands move from my feet to my calves, kneading the tight muscles there. "I need to be with my wife. I need to take care of her."
The words make something warm unfurl in my chest. He moves up the bed until he's lying beside me, propped on one elbow. His free hand comes to rest on my stomach. I cover his hand with mine, feeling the warmth of his palm through my shirt.
His hand moves from my stomach to the buttons of my shirt, and he begins undoing them slowly, one by one. There's nothing rushed about his movements, nothing demanding. Just a quiet reverence that makes my breath catch.
Pushing the fabric aside to reveal my bra, his fingers trace the curve of my breast, gentle and exploring.
I reach up and cup his face, feeling the roughness of his beard against my palm. "Make love to me, Dimitri. Slowly. I need to feel you, to remember that we're alive and together and safe."
He leans down and kisses me, his lips soft against mine. He undresses me carefully, as if I'm something precious that might break. Each piece of clothing is removed with reverence, his hands and mouth following the path of revealed skin. When I'm finally naked beneath him, he pauses to just look at me, his green eyes dark with desire and something deeper.
"I love you," he says, the words coming easier now than they did that first time. "I love you, Alina. You and our baby. You're everything to me."
Tears prick my eyes. "I love you too. So much it scares me sometimes."
He strips off his own clothes, and then he's covering my body with his, careful to keep his weight off my stomach. When he enters me, it's slow and gentle, giving me time to adjust, to feel every inch of him. We move together in a rhythm that's becomefamiliar, our bodies knowing each other in ways that go beyond the physical.
This isn't just sex. It's connection. Affirmation. A reminder that despite everything we've survived, we're still here, still together, still building something beautiful from the ashes of everything that came before.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. His hand strokes my hair in long, soothing movements, and I feel myself drifting toward sleep.
"I want to be a good father," he says suddenly, his voice rough with emotion. "Not like mine was. Not like Viktor. I want our child to know they're loved, that they're valued for who they are, not what they can offer."
I lift my head to look at him. "You will be. You already are, Dimitri. The way you've taken care of Katya, given her choices and opportunities. That's the kind of father you'll be."
"I'm scared," he admits, and the vulnerability in his voice makes my heart ache. "What if I fail? What if I can't protect them? What if this world we live in destroys them the way it's destroyed so many others?"
I press my hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm. "Then we'll build something better. We're already doing it, Dimitri. The changes you proposed at the meeting, the way you're restructuring the Bratva. It's not perfect, but it's a start."
He pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair. "I never thought I'd have this. A family. A future worth fighting for. You've changed everything, Alina."
"We'vechanged everything," I correct softly. "Together."
We fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms, dreaming of the future we're trying to build. I don't know how long I sleep before something wakes me. The room is dark, the lamp turned off, and for a moment I'm disoriented. Then I realize what's wrong.
Dimitri's side of the bed is empty.
I sit up, my heart already starting to race. Then I hear it. Shouting from downstairs. Loud, urgent voices speaking rapid Russian. The sound of multiple footsteps, heavy boots on marble floors.
Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.
I throw back the covers and reach for my robe, my hands shaking as I tie it around my waist. The shouting grows louder, more intense, and I hear Dimitri's voice cutting through the chaos, sharp with command.
I move to the door, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor, and press my ear against the wood. I can't make out the words, but I hear the urgency, the fear underneath the anger.
