Page 7 of Inked in Devotion

I gritted my teeth at the insane, unexpected euphoria I felt at the thought of seeing Chloe again. I should have erased her existence from my mind because the bratva was no place for her.

The door opened and she stood there, crossing her arms, gripping her biceps. She looked…stressed. Chestnut hair gathered loosely in a ponytail that might have looked more polished this morning. Emerald green pantsuit, starched white top—part of her outfit when she met with her stuffy brother. Did I expect her to fling her arms around me? No. Not after the last time we saw each other. The last time I saw her, we were embroiled in a clusterfuck standoff. She almost killed Jeremiah King, and I would have relieved her of any guilt and solved her problems with them if not for Theo warning us of the consequences.

I should have burned the King brothers in their miserable mansion and called it a day, but Kirill had to act like a fucking politician.

Chloe Brown. I winced at her last name. It was one of her many fake last names. She stuck to the generic ones. There was nothing generic about Chloe’s soulful brown eyes that spoke of innocence and tragedy in the same blink. It was what had drawn me to her. Then I noticed the elegant curve of her jawline. It compelled me to nibble down to the pulse at her neck.

She cleared her throat.

My gaze lingered on her pulse before lazily lifting it and smirking, but I wanted nothing more than to grab her face and turn her irresistible bow-shaped lips swollen.

The scent of eggs and baby powder refocused my attention on my purpose. Past her shoulder, the existence of a playpen renewed my anger from earlier.

“Is there something I should know?”

Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I was going to tell you.”

“The child is mine?”

“Yes.”

That one word filled my chest to maximum capacity. I had been ninety-nine percent sure I was the father. With the way I’d been so reckless during our weekend together, deep down I wondered if it had consequences.

Then I got fucking arrested, and all perspectives changed.

I inhaled and exhaled sharply to clear the buzzing in my head, then glanced over my shoulder at the bodyguard. “You can leave us.”

“Hell no,” he snarled.

I stared at Chloe. “Tell him to leave.” I clenched my fists to keep them from grabbing Blond Dude and throwing him out myself.

“I’ll be fine, Hudson.”

“I won’t hurt the mother of my child,” I told him in a tone that, for the first time since I arrived, was devoid of aggression or mockery.

He glanced at Chloe. His jaw worked convulsively before he exited, whipping his phone instantly to his ear, probably calling the De Luccis and keeping them updated about this devil’s movements.

“He’s a boy,” Chloe said.

I offered a brief nod, still processing this information. “How old is he?”

“Eight months. He was overdue by a week, but it’s normal for a first child.”

I let my eyes roam the apartment. There was a door to a room and a hallway that led to more. “Can I see him?”

“Nic…”

I flinched. “Don’t call me that, princess, and I won’t call you Crystal.”

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. That bottom lip of a mouth I’d imagined countless times when I’d jacked off in prison.

“You've lost your French accent.” An accusatory tone filled the gaps in those words.

“I was on a job.”

“Was I the job? Were you sent to kill me?”

How much to tell her? Everyone who knew of my purpose there was dead. Even Kirill didn’t know. “No. I had business with the distillery there.” Business meaning collecting on payment the manager was stiffing the bratva on.