Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Sixty-Nine
The estate felt almost peaceful.

Not quiet. Never quiet.

But peaceful in the way a living thing could be peaceful—dogs moving through the yard, men laughing low near the equipment shed, coffee cooling forgotten on counters, radios murmuring in the background like static instead of warning.

Anika stood in the kennel office with the next day’s route folder open in front of her.

Asheville contract.
Routine follow-up.
Two dogs. One vehicle. Distance escort.
Nothing new.
Nothing dangerous.

And yet the folder felt heavier than it should have.

“You’re staring at paperwork like it insulted your bloodline,” Lizzy said from the doorway.

Anika looked up.

Lizzy leaned against the frame, arms crossed, hair pulled into a messy knot, expression too knowing for anyone’s good.

“I’m reviewing the route.”

“You reviewed it yesterday.”

“Then I’m reviewing it better.”

Lizzy stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her eyes dropped briefly to Anika’s hand where it rested low against her stomach.

Anika immediately moved it.
Too late.

Lizzy’s expression softened. “Still haven’t told him?”

Anika looked down at the folder. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“After we get back.” Her voice quieted. “I’ll tell him tomorrow night.”

Lizzy studied her carefully. “You sure?”

“No.” Anika laughed softly, but it trembled at the edges. “But I want it to be… ours. Not rushed. Not thrown at him between routes and radios and dogs growling at anyone who breathes too close to me.”

Lizzy’s mouth tilted. “Fair.”

Anika opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a small folded envelope.

Lizzy’s brows lifted. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“That is absolutely something.”

Anika sighed and opened it just enough to show the corner of the pregnancy test box tucked inside with a handwritten note folded around it.

Lizzy’s face softened completely.

“Oh, Ani.”

“Don’t,” Anika warned. “If you get emotional, I’ll get emotional, and then I’ll have to blame you.”

“What does the note say?”

Anika looked down, thumb brushing the fold.

“Not much. Just… that I was scared. And happy. And that I wanted him to know before anyone else did.”

Lizzy swallowed. “He’s going to lose his mind.”
“I know.”

“In a good way.”

“I know that too.”

But knowing didn’t stop her hands from shaking slightly as she tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of her jacket.

Tomorrow.

She could hold the secret one more day.

By late afternoon, the estate had shifted into something warm and loose.

Nikolai had decided dinner would be outside again, which meant half the household pretended not to be delighted while obeying immediately. Someone dragged extra chairs near the firepit. Ilya argued with a handler about music. Romeo stole an entire roll from someone’s plate and looked deeply unrepentant.

Anika laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Nikolai noticed immediately.

“You are laughing at theft,” he said, settling beside her.

“I’m appreciating initiative.”

“He stole bread.”

“He assessed weakness and exploited it.”

Nikolai’s mouth curved. “That sounds familiar.”

She leaned into him without thinking.

Ares lay pressed against her feet, Nyx at her side, Ghost several yards away but facing outward, watching the tree line.

Always watching now.

Nikolai glanced at the dogs once but said nothing.
Instead, he slipped his hand beneath the blanket covering her lap and found hers.

Their fingers tangled.
Private.
Certain.

“You are quiet today,” he murmured.

Anika’s chest tightened.

“I’m happy.”

His gaze moved to her face.

That answer seemed to surprise him more than any lie could have.

“Good,” he said softly.

She looked around the yard.

“This feels dangerous,” she admitted.

Nikolai’s thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“Happiness?”

“Wanting it.”

His expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.

“You think wanting makes it easier to lose.”

She looked at him. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “But not wanting is not living.”

Her breath caught.
He lifted her hand and pressed his mouth to her knuckles.
Slow.
Certain.

“I want this,” he said quietly. “All of it.”

Her heart cracked open.
Tomorrow, she thought.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you.

Across the firepit, Lizzy stood near the edge of the patio with her arms folded against the cooling evening air.

Maksim appeared beside her with a blanket.

She looked at it, then at him. “Are you managing my body temperature now?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you are.”

She took the blanket anyway.
Their fingers brushed.
This time, neither pretended not to notice.

“You’re leaving with them tomorrow?” she asked.

“Distance escort.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

His gaze stayed on the fire. “Yes.”

The answer settled something in her chest and unsettled something else entirely.

“You don’t have to hover.”

“I know.”

“But you will.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him then. “Because of security?”

His jaw flexed once.

“No.”

That single word hit harder than any confession.
Lizzy’s throat tightened.

“Maksim—”

He turned toward her fully, and the noise of the yard seemed to fade around them.

“I am not good at this,” he said quietly.

“Talking?”

“Wanting.”

Her breath caught.

He looked almost angry with himself for saying it, but he didn’t take it back.

“I know how to protect,” he continued. “I know how to calculate risk. I know how to remove threats.” His eyes held hers. “I do not know how to stand near you and pretend you are only another variable.”

Lizzy’s heart hammered painfully.

“Then don’t.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

For one suspended second, he didn’t move.

Then his hand came up, fingers brushing the edge of her jaw. Not quite a kiss. Not yet.

“Elizabeth,” he said, low and rough.

She smiled faintly. “That’s not an answer.”

His mouth curved slightly.
Barely.
But real.
Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Not frantic this time.
Not stolen.
Chosen.

Slow enough to mean something. Careful enough to hurt.

Lizzy’s hand curled into the front of his shirt, and for once he didn’t pull away first.

When they finally parted, his forehead rested briefly against hers.

Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.

From across the fire, Anika saw them.
So did Nikolai.

“She will be good for him,” Anika whispered.

Nikolai watched Maksim like he was seeing something rare and fragile unfold in real time.

“Yes,” he said. “If he lets her.”

Anika looked up at him. “He will.”

“You sound certain.”

“I am.”

Nikolai’s gaze lowered to her.

“You believe in people more than you admit.”

“Only the ones worth the trouble.”

His arm tightened around her.

The evening stretched on.

Warm light. Smoke. Dogs breathing at their feet. Laughter moving through the yard like something sacred.

For one night, no one bled.
No one ran.
No one lost anything.

Later, when Anika stood alone at the edge of the terrace, Ares pressed against her side without command.

She rested one hand over the inner pocket of her jacket where the envelope waited.

Tomorrow.

Behind her, Nikolai’s voice carried low through the open doors.

Lizzy laughed somewhere near the fire.
Maksim said something too quiet to hear, and Lizzy laughed again—softer this time.

Anika closed her eyes.

For one perfect moment, the future felt close enough to hold.