“I like carrying it,” I say. “Makes me feel useful.”
Her laugh is light and teasing. “You already do enough for me. You’re starting to look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Those dark circles aren’t exactly subtle.”
I shrug. “Running a criminal empire doesn’t exactly come with regular hours.”
Her eyes widen a little, though she’s long past being shocked by what I do. “So it’s official? You’ve really taken over?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Leo’s gone to take care of something personal. Aleksei helps where he can, but for now, it’s on me.”
She squeezes my hand. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
I glance down at her belly again. “I’ve handled worse.”
Her fingers slide over mine, tender and reassuring. “You don’t have to take care of everything, Dmitry. I can take care of myself.”
“No.” I stop walking and turn to face her. “You don’t have to. That’s my job now. You and the baby come first. Always.”
Her lips part, and she looks up at me with so much warmth it’s almost painful. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Every word.”
She smiles through a small exhale. “Then I must’ve lucked out by getting pregnant with you.”
I lean down, brushing my lips against hers. “No, Callista. I’m the lucky one.”
The engagement ring catches the sunlight when she cups my cheek. The sight of it never fails to send a thrill through me—it’s my mark on her, the proof that she belongs to me in every way that matters.
As we walk again, she talks about her plans, her voice soft and full of excitement. “Once we graduate, I want to take some time off to focus on the baby. But after that, I think I’ll start my own event planning company. Something small at first, maybe focusing on charity galas or luxury weddings.”
I smile at her ambition. “You’ll make it big. You’re too good at what you do not to.”
“I’ll try,” she says. “And what about you? Moscow, right?”
I nod. “Mostly Moscow. I’ll have to shuttle between there and the States to manage both operations. But I’ll make sure we’re always together. I don’t care if I have to fly across the world every week.”
Her eyes shine with quiet affection. “You’d really do that?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
She presses her forehead against my shoulder, murmuring, “I’m excited. For everything. For our baby. For this next chapter.”
I tilt her chin up and kiss her again, slow and deep. “You won’t have to wait long. In a few weeks, you’ll be my wife.”
Her smile widens. “Mrs. Antonov. I like the sound of that.”
I grin, brushing my thumb over her lower lip. “Good. Because once you take my name, you’re never giving it back.”
She laughs, glowing in the sunlight, and I pull her closer as the world fades into the background. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be—between her heartbeat and the future growing beneath my hand.
EPILOGUE
Callista
One and a half years later…
Snow driftssoftly outside the tall windows of our townhouse, the Moscow sky a sheet of pale gray. The world feels hushed, blanketed in winter quiet. Inside, it’s warm. The crackle of the fire fills the room, and the soft sounds of my baby’s breathing and suckling fill the spaces in between.
I sit in the rocking chair Dmitry bought for me, wrapped in one of his oversized sweaters. Our daughter—our perfect little angel—is nestled against my chest, her tiny fingers curling around my necklace as she nurses. Her warmth seeps into me, and I can’t stop smiling as I watch her round cheeks move with each pull.
