CHAPTER 30
SIX MONTHS LATER
DANILL
MY WIFE STANDS to the side of the room, one hand on her belly the other on her back as she attempts to support the large baby that is still nestled inside of her. She is due now, the baby will be coming any second and I, for one, cannot wait.
We chose not to find out the sex of the baby, not wishing to spoil the surprise. It doesn’t matter to me what it is, as long as everyone is healthy, but I can’t deny a girl who looks like her would not be a hardship. A boy as wild as me would not be unwanted, either.
Grisha’s hand claps down against my shoulder and I look over to him. “Any second now and you’re going to be a papa,” he states.
Shifting my gaze from Holland to Grisha, I arch a brow.
“I am.”
“You couldn’t have stolen a better bride for yourself, Danill.”
He squeezes my shoulder, then walks away. I don’t know what is in his head, but he’s thinking of something, then I feel the presence of someone else on my other side.
Turning my head, I give my wife a smile.
“Tired?” I ask.
She nods her head as she yawns. “Exhausted,” she sighs.
“Let’s go say goodbye to the birthday boy, then we’ll head home.”
“Can you call him a boy if Fyodor is turning sixty-five?” Holland asks.
Shrugging a shoulder, I give her a grin. “Don’t know, but let’s find out if it pisses him off or not.”
Together we walk toward Fyodor, who is standing near a gigantic cake that his secretary ordered. She is standing a few feet away from him, her eyes never leaving his body. She’s a bit of a wallflower, pretty enough, young, but not on Fyodor’s radar at all.
He’s been in long-term relationships and has yet to settle down with anyone. But all of his women have one thing in common. They’ve been blonde with huge breasts and small waists. They’ve been giggling women who dress skimpy and only want two things… money and presents.
The secretary doesn’t fit those criteria. She has dark hair, and she’s slim, but she is not built the way all his lovers and girlfriends have been in the past. She’s smart too. Really fucking smart. She’s Russian, her father is part of the Bratva, a Brigadier for him.
It’s almost sad the way she tries so fucking hard. Turning to Holland, I give her a smile and shake my thoughts away concerning the secretary and her unrequited love. Hand in hand, Holland and I make our way toward Fyodor and bid him good evening.
We’re in the car and headed home twenty minutes later. That is, until Holland doubles over in pain and announces that her water has broken.
Wordlessly, I detour to the hospital.
My heart starts to pound in my chest and for the first time in my life, I feel the sensation of true fear wash over me.
TEN HOURS LATER
HOLLAND
OPENING MY EYES, I look to the side and my heart races at the sight of the empty plastic bassinet next to me. After a five-hour labor, trying to breastfeed for the first time, I was exhausted and set the baby in the bassinet before I promptly passed out asleep.
Looking around the room, my eyes lock in on the most beautiful sight in the world. Danill is standing next to the window, holding the baby as they look out. I hear his voice, but I don’t understand what he’s saying. At first, I think I’m just still deliriously tired, but then it hits me, he’s speaking Russian.
“Danill?” I ask, my voice groggy sounding to my own ears.
He turns his head, looking over his shoulder at me before he spins his body around and walks toward me. He sinks down on the bed next to me, the little bundle safely wrapped in his arms.
“What were you saying?” I ask.
He hums, his gaze flicking down to the baby before he lifts it to meet mine. “I was telling her the story of my life.” “Your life?” I ask.
He nods his head, his eyes never leaving my own. “My life. How I was abandoned in Russia as a child and had to fend for myself. How I worked hard and became the best at what I do and was able to immigrate over to the United States. How I’ve been able to have opportunities here that I could not have anywhere else. And how I met a princess and married her.”
“Opportunities?” I ask as tears well in my eyes. “Criminal ones?”
He grins, shrugging his shoulder with a small laugh. “An opportunity is an opportunity, kroshka.” “How is our daughter?” I ask.
“Perfect and gorgeous, just like her mother.”
I open my mouth to say something, but my words die when his lips touch mine. He kisses me, hard and owning, then shifts to sweet and soft. Until he rests his forehead against my own.
“Thank you for my life, kroshka. For my happiness.”
I don’t tell him the truth. I don’t tell him that he’s my happiness and that he gave me the most beautiful life in the world when he stole me, but then again, I’m still not convinced that he did. Because I wanted to be taken by him and I would choose him every time until the day that I die.
Criminal or not, Danill is perfect for me. This life is perfect and I would not trade it for anything in the world. Not a single solitary thing.