But my true priority is the other woman. The one pregnant with my baby. The one whose scent had me hounding my way across the country only to drop my ego a notch for her to come back with me. Something I never, ever do. Because it isn’t just about the baby, Rozanov heir or not.
It’s about the baby’s mother.
The woman who is carrying my child.
And the woman has a grip on my heart.
16
RANSOME
“A round of drinks on me, for the newlyweds!” Dmitry Chadovich clamors from across the table where we are all seated.
It’s me, my father, Dmitry, Baron, Maverick, and of course, Jenica. These little cocktail meetings are routine now that we made the truce official. Tristan would normally be here too, if he wasn’t M.I.A.
Honestly, it’s all bullshit. Smoke and mirrors and rose-colored glasses and all that.
“We’ve been married for five months,” I say flatly.
“And I never properly congratulated you,” Dmitry says as the waiter brings over a tray of champagne flutes.
“Well, I for one will never turn down Dom Perignon.” Jenica smiles, taking a glass and also handing me one. She has her normal smile plastered on today. Underneath that facade and about three pounds of makeup is a girl who is silently screaming. But aren’t we all?
“To family and success,” Dmitry says, and we all clink our glasses together. “Na zdravje!”
After we all drink, Dmitry sets his glass down and reaches for the appetizers on the table. “I was hoping we could also use this time to talk business, as much as I hate to turn a celebratory event into work.”
Oh, brother…
I suck my teeth and lean back in my seat, my drink still in hand. I am not a champagne fan. I find it foul, really. But it’s alcohol, and if I don’t drink it, it looks bad. Not that I care about looks. But I do care about this meeting being over as soon as possible, and the only way to make that happen is to play along.
“I must say, Dmitry, we have been a little on edge about the disappearance of your nephew as of late,” my father says.
My eyes dart between the two men sitting across from me with no movement of my head. It’s like watching a cock fight, and I’ve got money in the ring.
“We are concerned as well,” Dmitry says with a sad nod.
“So you’re saying you don’t know where Tristan’s hiding?” Maverick asks, and I shoot him a look, even though I was about two seconds from asking the same question.
“Of course not. My nephew is the rising Chadovichpakhan.His disappearance leaves us all unnerved,” Dmitry answers. The man is lying through his fucking teeth.
“I see,” my father says. “That must be very distressing for all of you.”
“Needless street fighting, that’s what leads to it all,” Jenica says, playing the game.
But I’m done.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it.”
The table turns to me. Jenica stiffens, reaching for her drink, and I can feel the heat of my father’s eyes.
I don’t give a rat’s ass, though.
“I find it hard to believe that Tristan just took off with no correspondence. That none of you know where he is or what he’s up to. I always know where my men are.”
“So none of your affairs are left with loose ends?” Dmitry asks, and I know full well what he’s hinting at. That he’s talking about Amara. I didn’t doubt that it would be impossible to bring her back here without anyone knowing about it. If the Chadovichs are anything like the Rozanovs (and they are, in a Bratva sense), they have eyes everywhere.
“My family is under control, yes.Mycontrol.”
