"I've thought about little else since I met you." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "What kind of father would I be if I'm always away? What kind of husband?"
The word "husband" sends a thrill through me. "You'd be a great dad. Overprotective, obviously. Our kids will probably have tracking devices in their shoes."
"And their backpacks. And their toys."
"Of course." I laugh, imagining it. "God help their first dates."
"I'll be reasonable," he promises, though his eyes glint with mischief. "I'll only run basic background checks."
I can't help but laugh. "You asked me out on a date almost a week ago, and here we are talking about kids. Most people would think we're rushing. But I guess when you've survived multiple shootings, a kidnapping, and a psycho trying to drug and reprogram you, normal timelines don't really apply."
"You are who I want, Fee. I've known that for months." Anton's voice is low, certain. "I'm an old soul. I know what I want when I see it. We've known each other for six months, and I've been certain about you for most of that time."
I tilt my head, studying him. "You knew more about me than I did about you. That's hardly fair."
"Ask me anything. Whatever you want to know."
"What about family? Do you have any besides the Bratva?"
Anton shakes his head. "I was born in New York to immigrant Russian parents. They died in a car accident when I was in my late teens. I was already working for the Bratva by then."
His expression turns distant for a moment, and I squeeze his hand gently, encouraging him to continue.
"My mother and I played chess all the time," he says, a small smile touching his lips. "I have a picture of her by a chessboard at the penthouse."
"That's your mother?" I ask, suddenly remembering the photograph I'd seen.
"Yes."
"I thought..." I trail off, feeling awkward.
Anton's expression shifts to understanding. "You thought it was Katya."
I nod. "Yes."
Anton's face softens as he reads my expression. "No, I don't keep Katya's photos displayed. I gave those back to her mother six months ago."
Six months? The timing hits me. "Right when you started watching me."
He nods, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Part of getting ready to be available to you, Solnishko. I couldn't fully move forward while looking back."
Something warm unfurls in my chest. I know how significant this gesture must have been for him.
"Her mother was happy to have them," Anton continues, his voice gentle. "We had lunch together. I told her about you."
"You did?" I can't hide my surprise.
"She said Katya would want me to find happiness again." His eyes hold mine, storm-gray and honest. "She hugged me when I left and made me promise to bring you to meet her someday."
I'm speechless for a moment, imagining Anton sitting across from his late wife's mother, discussing his feelings for me. The image is so unexpectedly tender that it makes my throat tight.
"You really were preparing for me all this time."
"In every way I could." Anton brushes a strand of hair from my face. "I changed everything. Moved to a new penthouse. Gave away her clothes, her jewelry. Kept a garden. It's a peaceful place that I tend because it reminds me life goes on, but that's all it means, nothing else."
I reach up to touch the teardrop tattoo under his eye. "And this."
"It's part of what shaped me. But it doesn't define my future."
