“It’s also where we’re raising our daughter.”
“Our daughter is going to think she’s a princess.”
“She is a princess.” I park in the circular drive. “Pakhan’s daughter. Close enough.”
The front doors open before we’re out of the car. Lev, Dima, and Boris emerge. All three grinning.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Malikov-to-be,” Lev calls out.
Mary just stares at them. Then at the house. Then at me.
“You’re all insane,” she says.
“Probably,” I agree. “Come on.”
I help her out of the car. Her hand is shaking slightly in mine.
“You really bought this?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“For us?”
“For our family.” I pull her closer. “For you and our daughter to be safe. For Grandma to visit without stairs. For Jasper to have space to work on wedding plans. For everyone we love to have a place that’s truly home.”
Her eyes are wet. “Anton—”
“Do you want to see inside, or should we stand in the driveway crying?”
She laughs. Wipes her eyes. “Inside. Definitely inside.”
Lev opens the door with a flourish. “After you, Your Majesty.”
“Stop,” Mary mutters, but she’s smiling.
We enter. The foyer opens up three stories. Spiral staircase. Marble floors. The chandelier that costs an arm and a leg.
“Jesus,” Mary breathes.
“Twenty-two thousand square feet,” Boris offers helpfully. “Not including guest houses, security buildings, or underground levels.”
“Underground levels. Plural.”
“Two,” Dima confirms. “One for wine and entertainment. One for—” He glances at me.
“Business,” I finish. “Bratva business. Separate from the family areas.”
Mary nods slowly. Processing.
“How many bedrooms?” she asks.
“Twelve,” I say. “Including our master suite with attached nursery.”
“Bathrooms?”
“Fifteen.”
“Who needs fifteen bathrooms?” She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
