“I love you,” he whispers as we climb higher together. “God help me, Sophia, I love you.”
I freeze for just a second. This is the first time he’s said those words out loud. The first time he’s told me and warmth spreads through my entire body.
“I love you too.” The words come easily now, no longer frightening. “Always.”
Our climax builds slowly, intensely, until we’re both trembling on the edge. When we finally fall over together, it feels like a promise. Like a vow.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Mikhail’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder, and I feel the tension finally leaving his body.
“What happens now?” I ask quietly.
“Now we rebuild.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “We create something new. Something that isn’t built on revenge or violence.”
“Can we do that? After everything?”
“We can try.” His arms tighten around me. “Together.”
I think about the pregnancy test hidden in my drawer, the one I took before everything went to hell. The two pink lines that changed everything. I’ve been carrying this secret all day, waiting for the right moment to tell him.
This is it. This is the moment.
I take a deep breath and lift my head to look at him. His green eyes are soft in the dim light, full of love and hope and exhaustion.
“Mikhail,” I begin, my heart pounding. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He tenses slightly. “What is it?”
I place my hand over my stomach, feeling the flutter of nerves and excitement and terror. “I’m pregnant.”
32
MIKHAIL
I stand at the window of our bedroom, watching the city lights flicker to life as dusk settles over the skyline.
My reflection stares back at me—blonde hair, green eyes that have seen too much violence, the faint lines of exhaustion etched around my mouth.
Behind me, Sophia rests quietly in bed, the covers tucked up under her chin.
She’s so young. So innocent. And pregnant.
A father.
I’m going to be a father.
The thought keeps circling through my mind like a prayer I don’t know how to finish.
My hand moves unconsciously to touch the eight-pointed star tattoo on my chest through my shirt, that mark of Bratva royalty that once defined everything I was.
Everything I thought I’d always be.
But now there’s a child.
My child.
Growing inside the woman I love.
The woman I almost lost because of my own uncle’s madness.
