He pulls back, his hands moving to my stomach, pressing gently against the still-flat surface. "We're going to have this baby," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "And we're going to do it together."
"But what about school? My family? Your family?"
"Fuck school," he says bluntly. "You can finish your degree online if you want, or take a break. As for your family, they don't deserve to know. And my family?" He smirks slightly. "They'll get over it. Besides, Leo will be thrilled to have another Antonov in the world."
I laugh through my tears, shaking my head. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," he says, his hand still resting on my stomach. "You're having my baby. That's all that matters."
He leans down, capturing my lips in a soft, tender kiss. It's different from the rough, demanding kisses we usually share. This one is full of promise, of love, of a future I never thought I'd have.
When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. "Marry me," he says suddenly.
I blink, stunned. "What?"
"Marry me, Callista," he repeats, his voice firm. "I want you as my wife. I want this baby to have our name. I want you bound to me in every way possible."
My heart stutters in my chest. "Dmitry, that's?—"
"Say yes," he interrupts, his hands gripping my waist. "Say yes, and I'll give you everything. A home, a family, a life where you never have to pretend again."
Tears stream down my face as I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and love. "Yes," I whisper. "Yes, I'll marry you."
He grins, lifting me off my feet and spinning me around. I laugh, clinging to him, my heart soaring.
When he sets me down, he kisses me again, this time with more passion, more urgency. His hands roam over my body, possessive and claiming.
"Mine," he murmurs against my lips. "You and our baby. Mine."
"Yours," I echo, my voice filled with certainty.
NINETEEN
Dmitry
I standoutside Leo’s study, the weight of the ring box pressing against my pocket. My palms are sweating. I’ve faced worse than this—police raids, negotiations with criminals—but telling my eldest brother that I got my girlfriend pregnant feels like walking into a battlefield unarmed.
I knock twice.
“Come in,” Leo’s voice calls, deep and steady.
The door swings open, revealing the familiar scent of cigar smoke and leather. His study is as imposing as the man himself: dark wood shelves lined with old Russian literature and legal files, a heavy mahogany desk at the center, and the faint hum of the air conditioner barely cutting through the stillness.
Leo sits behind the desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a half-drained glass of vodka beside him. His expression is unreadable as his gray eyes flick up to mine.
I recall the way Leo used to smile sometimes when I was very young. But he doesn’t anymore. Now he looks like a typical Russian patriarch. Stoic, set in his ways, unimpressed,controlling. Except for his handsome face that resembles a Hollywood star rather than an ageing Russian man.
“So,” he says after a beat, closing the file he’s reading. “You’re here about the expense you made to Finley & Co. Jewelers?”
I curse silently. Of course he already knows. Nothing gets past him.
“Yes,” I say. “I bought an engagement ring for Callista. I’m going to propose.”
Leo’s gaze sharpens. He gestures to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”
I lower myself into the seat, spine straight, forcing myself to stay calm.
He steeples his fingers. “Start from the beginning.”
