His eyes follow where I'm pointing, falling on the little white stick sitting next to a stack of papers. For a man who runs wars without blinking, he freezes solid.
He drops his glass onto the bar cart with a loudclackand crosses the room in quick strides. He picks up the test and stares at the pink lines like he's trying to disarm a bomb.
Slowly, his attention shifts to me. The untouchable Pakhan is gone, replaced by a man utterly wrecked by awe.
"Helena," he breathes, his voice shaking. "Is this?"
"Yes," I say, smiling widely. "You're going to be a father."
His reaction is instant.
He drops the test and covers the distance between us so fast I barely have time to gasp before his hands lock around my waist. He hauls me off the ground, and his mouth crashes onto mine with a desperate hunger.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn't put me down. He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard. His hand slides down to rest flat against my bare stomach, staking his claim.
"A baby," he breathes. "You're carrying my heir."
"Or a little girl who's going to wrap you right around her tiny finger," I tease, running my hands through his hair.
A low, rough laugh escapes his chest, a sound I rarely hear. "If she looks like you, I'll burn the world down to keep her safe."
He gently lowers me to my feet.
To my absolute shock, the most dangerous man in the city takes a step back and drops onto one knee right in the middle of the penthouse.
My breath leaves my lungs.
He looks up at me, and the fire in his eyes softens. "I forced you into a cage once," he murmurs. "I put a ring on your finger in the dark and gave you no choice. But now, I want to do this in the light. Marry me properly, Helena. Be my wife because you want to be."
Tears prick my eyes, but I'm smiling. A real wedding. No threats and no fake warrants. Just the King asking his Queen.
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, I will."
He stands and gets to me in a heartbeat, cupping my face while he kisses me.
When he pulls back, that familiar smirk returns to his lips. "Good. Because preparations start tomorrow. We're shutting down the Cathedral in the center of the city."
I laugh and rest my hands on his chest. "A Bratva wedding? That sounds like a lot of vodka and guns."
"It's a coronation," he corrects. His hand slides down to rest against my stomach again. "And we're doing it soon, before you start to show. I want the whole world to watch you willingly take my name before our child is born."
I grab his lapels, my heart racing.
The restraint in the room snaps.
He lifts me off the ground and carries me from the living room to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine. His strong hands roam over my body, gripping tightly enough to leave marks.
“Konstantin,” I gasp against his lips as the bedroom door slams shut behind us.
A rough sound tears from him before I’m dropped onto the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he follows me down, pushing my thighs open and reclaiming my mouth. I moan into the kiss and drag him closer.
My dress is yanked open. Cool air brushes my skin. His hand closes around my breast, squeezing hard, teasing my nipple until it aches. I arch upward with a gasp. The bra is ripped away, fingers hooking into my panties and dragging them down my legs, lace burning against my thighs.
My hands find his belt. He helps, shoving his pants down until he’s free. I wrap my fingers around him and stroke once, then again, feeling the heat of him against my palm.
"Konstantin," I gasp.
He growls and pins my wrists above my head with one hand. One hard thrust and he's all the way inside. I cry out as my back bows off the mattress. He doesn't wait. He fucks me deep and fast, and every stroke punches the air from my lungs.
