Tears stream down her face, and I wipe them away with my thumbs. “I love you,” she whispers. “I love you so much, and I’m terrified of losing you to this life. But I’m also terrified of asking you to give it up.”
“You’re not asking. I’m choosing.” I lean forward, resting my forehead against hers. “I’m choosing you. I’m choosing our family. The empire can survive without me for a while. But I can’t survive without you.”
She kisses me then, soft and desperate, and I pour everything I can’t say into that kiss.
All my fear and love and determination to be better, to do better, to be the man she deserves.
When we break apart, I help her lie back against the pillows. “Rest now. I’ll handle everything.”
“Promise me something,” she says as her eyes start to drift closed. “Promise me you won’t disappear into your office. That you’ll actually be here, with me.”
“I promise.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I stay with her until she falls asleep, her hand still clutching mine.
Then I carefully extract myself and head downstairs to make the calls that will reshape my organization.
Tony first, to explain the new chain of command. Then Viktor, to ensure security remains tight even with my reduced involvement.
I’m in the middle of my third call when my phone buzzes with an incoming message from Viktor.
The words on the screen make my blood run cold.
Boss, we have a problem. The Volkovs are making moves on our territory. Three of our warehouses hit in the last hour. They’re testing us.
I stare at the message, my mind racing.
The Volkovs are one of the most dangerous families in the city, and they’ve been waiting for any sign of weakness to move against us.
I glance up the stairs toward our bedroom, where Sophia sleeps, trusting me to keep my promise.
Then I look back at the phone, at the crisis that demands my immediate attention.
The choice should be simple. I just told her I was choosing family over empire.
But if I don’t handle this now, if I let the Volkovs gain a foothold, the resulting war could destroy everything I’ve built, putting Sophia and our baby in even more danger.
My finger hovers over the call button, and I realize with sinking certainty that no matter what I choose, I’m going to fail someone.
45
SOPHIA
I watch Mikhail from my prison of pillows and blankets, my hand resting protectively over the small swell of my stomach.
He stands at the window of our bedroom, his phone pressed to his ear, his shoulders rigid with tension.
This is the fourth call in the last hour, and each one seems to add another layer of stress to the weight he’s already carrying.
“I don’t care what it takes,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “Handle it.”
He ends the call and runs a hand through his blonde hair, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as his tell when he’s overwhelmed.
For a moment, he just stands there, staring out at the compound grounds, and I see the exhaustion etched into every line of his body.
“Mikhail,” I say softly.
He turns, and the mask slips back into place. His green eyes soften when they land on me, and he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
