"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, my mouth finding the sensitive spot below her ear that makes her gasp. "Carrying my baby. Mine."
My hands slide down her body, mapping every curve, every change. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I find her already wet, already ready, and the knowledge makes my vision blur at the edges.
"Touch me," she demands, her hips lifting off the bed. "Stop teasing."
I circle her clit with my thumb, watching her face as pleasure transforms her features. Her back arches, her hands gripping the sheets, and I feel her body starting to tighten around my fingers as I work her with practiced precision.
"That's it,Solnyshka," I murmur against her throat. "Let me feel you."
She shatters with a cry that sounds like my name, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around my fingers. I work her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she's trembling and gasping beneath me.
Then I'm stripping off my own clothes with desperate efficiency, my cock hard and heavy as I position myself between her thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and when I finally enter her, we both groan at the sensation.
She's so tight, so hot, so perfect around me that I have to pause just to breathe through the intensity. Her hands grip myshoulders, her nails digging into my skin, and the slight pain only heightens the pleasure.
"Move," she demands, her voice breathless. "Please, Nikolai."
I start slowly, each thrust deliberate and deep, letting her feel every inch of me. But her body responds with urgency that matches my own, her hips rising to meet mine, and soon I'm moving faster, harder, chasing the release building at the base of my spine.
"I love you," she gasps, her dark eyes holding mine with absolute certainty. "I love you so much."
The words push me over the edge. I thrust deep one final time and let go, groaning her name against her throat as pleasure crashes through me with enough force to make my arms shake. I feel her come again around me, her body milking every last pulse from mine.
Afterward, I collapse beside her, pulling her against my chest before my breathing has even steadied. Her head rests over my heart, and I feel the rapid hammer of it gradually slowing. My fingers trace lazy patterns along her spine, and she shivers despite the warmth of the room.
"It's really over?" she asks quietly.
"It's really over." I press a kiss to her temple. "The media will move on to the next scandal. The FBI will find other targets. And we can finally build the life we want."
She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the serpent tattoo on my neck. "I was thinking about what Lara said. About using Bratva suppliers for the restaurant."
My body tenses despite my attempt to remain relaxed. "And?"
"I think she's right." The admission sounds like it costs her something. "I can't build this alone. Not with a target on my back. But I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"The business stays mine. My decisions. My vision. Your resources, but my control." Her dark eyes meet mine with that familiar defiance. "Can you live with that?"
I think about the council meeting, about Rubio's ultimatum, about how close I came to losing everything because I couldn't balance my two worlds. But looking at Aria now, pregnant with my child and still fighting for her independence, I know there's only one answer.
"Yes." I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing across her lower lip. "I can live with that."
Her phone lights up on the nightstand, the screen glowing with notification after notification. She reaches for it, her expression shifting from contentment to shock as she scrolls through the alerts.
"Nikolai." Her voice trembles. "Every major outlet is running retractions. And my business inquiries have tripled overnight."
51
ARIA
Ican't breathe for a moment as I stand here in the center of my new business. The afternoon light streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on exposed brick walls that glow, warm and inviting. The commercial kitchen gleams behind glass partitions, all stainless steel and professional-grade equipment that would have taken me a decade to afford on my own—if ever. The café area hums with conversation, guests sampling my coastal-inspired cuisine while servers weave between tables with practiced efficiency.
This is mine. Built with Nikolai's help, yes, but belonging entirely to me. The distinction matters more than I can articulate.
"You did it, dear." Lara Utkina appears at my elbow, her platinum blonde hair swept into that signature chignon, her pale blue eyes assessing the crowd with satisfaction. "This is quite impressive."
I watch the Bratva wives cluster around her near the windows, their presence both blessing and warning to anyone watching.Irina manages the kitchen with methodical precision, Svetlana handles the front of house with sharp efficiency, and Mila bounces between tables with infectious enthusiasm. They've become more than employees. They've become my advocates, my protection, my unexpected family.
