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I have that same sense of responsibility now as I press my empty water glass up to the door and strain my ears. Except it’s not Mom or Rose I’m trying to protect; it’s the squirming baby in my belly. Every day, he kicks a little more, a little harder. Sometimes, I feel as though he’s trying to tell me something. Baby Morse Code, saying, Get us outta here, Mama. I don’t want to be born in captivity.
“And what about phone conversations?” “You were always sleeping or too tired to talk.” “No wonder she’s suspicious. I’m never too tired to talk to her.” I clear my throat pointedly. “She’s under the impression that—and this is a direct quote—your ‘hot boss is controlling and he should know that you like control IN the bedroom, not outside it.’” I allow myself a tiny smirk at Wren’s shocked face as her jaw flops open. “She had a lot of interesting things to say about me, actually.” “And I am not commenting on any of them!” she blurts. “Those were private messages meant for me!” “Understood. I
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“Because I want to wear my clothes.” “Why?” Why? Because every time I smell your scent, my brain turns to pudding and my vagina feels like it’s about to jump off the nearest bridge. Because every time I think about this same fabric brushing your bare skin, I get jealous of it and want to throw IT off the nearest bridge. Because you drive me insane whether you’re near me or not. Because I’m crazy. Because you make me that way. Because I’m falling in love with you.
I’m full swing into the pity party when Aleks walks into the living room with a box of doughnuts in his hand. I rush over to him and throw my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” “Me?” he balks, setting down the doughnuts the moment I release him. “You’re the one who was kidnapped.” “Sure, but I get kidnapped all the time. At this rate, I’m used to it.” He snorts. “Don’t let my brother hear you make that joke.” “My humor is lost on him.” I give him a thorough onceover, satisfied that he looks mostly good. There is a small scar where he was shot, but all things considered, I was
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How can I, though? It’s my world in my arms right here. Wren and my child inside of her… every fucking thing that matters is encased in the circle of my touch. I want so badly to lock them there forever. But I’m learning more and more every day that, when it comes to Wren… What I want is rarely what’s best.
“Oh, is he ever. The sourpuss is ensconced behind his desk like the Lord of the Pompous Assholes that he is.” Aleks throws a mischievous smile into the room and holds the door open for me. “He’s all yours.” “Thanks.” In my head, I add silently, If that were true, none of this would be happening.
His lips twitch, the closest he’ll get to laughing. “Sorry to disappoint.” “On the contrary, I’m not disappointed at all.” I take the water he’s offering from his hands. “I think it’s nice that you care about this stuff.” “This is our son we’re talking about.” Ugh. Swoon.
“Oh my God… You have a Pinterest?!” I gawk before bursting into laughter. He fixes me with an annoyed glance. “What’s so funny about that?” “Big, bad Dmitri Egorov has a Pinterest page that’s filled with strollers and diaper dispensers and soothers with little soft toy animals hanging off the ends. I’m speechless.” “Those soothers came highly recommended,” he says with a stony expression. “The bloggers love them.” “You read the blogs, too? Stop. I can only take so much.”
“Wren.” Dmitri’s eyes are locked on me as intensely as mine are on him. All it would take is for one of us to lean in and that’d be that. Game over. Lights out. “I have something important to tell you.” I gulp. “Okay…?” His face looks as murderous as I’ve ever seen it as he leans ninety-nine percent of the way into kissing me and says, “If you tell anyone about my Pinterest page… I’ll kill you.” Both of us burst out laughing at the same time. We laugh until our cheeks hurt, until our sides burn, until the good kinds of tears pour down our faces—well, my face, not his.
“You never have to resort to dreams or fantasies when you’re with me, moya devushka. Just come to me. Tell me what you need and I’ll give you everything you want and more.” It’s a reckless promise, but I’m as intoxicated by the moment as she is. “What else do you want from me?”
Project Manager. Never in human history have two boring-ass words sounded so exciting. Projects? Lame. Managers? Gag. But me, a project manager?! I feel like a motherfuckin’ rockstar.
His jaw turns to rock. “Because they hurt you, Wren.” “Why does that even matter?” It’s hard to get the words out when my heart is fluttering wildly in my throat like it is. “Because, moya devushka, you matter.” “To you?” I ask softly. “Or to your empire?” He takes a step towards me and gathers me up in his arms. “Both, of course. But mostly to me.”
“You mean everything to me.”
“I’m not teasing you,” he corrects. “Not really. I’m claiming you, baby. I’m reminding you that you are fucking mine. All mine. This pussy is mine. Those moans are mine. That baby in there is mine. Have I made myself clear?”
Wren frowns. “What kind of ‘something else’?” I tap the empty space on her left ring finger. “This kind of something else.” A little disbelieving guffaw escapes her lips and she clamps both hands over her mouth. Then she stares at me through her laced fingers with wide eyes. “That’s insane,” she murmurs. “You’re insane.” “I think it’s the sanest thought I’ve had all year.”
I mean every word of that. I want this woman. And I want her forever. Not because she’s beautiful. Not because she’s carrying my baby. Not because I have to secure my legacy. But because she makes me feel fucking strong. And powerful. And complete. Because she makes me happy. And I haven’t been happy since… Since the motherfuckers took everything from me the first time. It’s all a neat conclusion when you look at it like that. I am going to make Wren my wife; I am going to slaughter the Irish and the Italians alike; I am going to give Elena the justice she never got. Most of all, I am going to
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I wrap my arm around Wren and pull her into my chest. “You can’t really blame him,” I whisper into her ear. “Why the hell not?” she snaps. “Speaking as a man who’s been inside you, it’s really fucking hard to come back out again.”
“Shit,” I mutter, crawling around the floor in search of the instruction manual I yeeted a few minutes ago. I find it and curl up in the corner and get back to work trying to figure out why Screw Q doesn’t fit into Slot 14 the way it’s motherfucking supposed to. The fact that the paper is wrinkled to shit doesn’t make my task any easier.
Well, fuck me sideways with a toaster.
“I’ve thought of everything, baby. I’ve made sure you’ll want for nothing. If I don’t make it, I’m gonna make damn sure that you and my son do. I told you from the start that I’ve got you, Wren. I’ve got you. I’ve always, always got you.”
“Still tired,” she confesses. “Still pregnant. And yet still here, by the grace of God or whatever. Where were you?” “Missed me, huh?” She scrunches her nose up playfully. “Ew, no. I mean… maybe a little. Like, a very, very— Chuckling, I press my palm to her cheek. “It’s okay to miss me. You don’t have to play it so cool all the time.”
“Because I want you to carry my name, Wren. I want you to have the protection it carries. But that’s just the practical side of things. You want to know the unpractical part? That I’m addicted to you. And I’m a jealous bastard. A vengeful one. A proud one. So I want to put a rock on your finger that announces to the whole world that
you are mine. That you always will be. That I love you. That no one alive has ever loved someone the way I love you.”
“She’s my best friend!” I argued with him last night while we were putting together our impromptu ceremony. “I can’t get married without her.” “The whole point of this wedding is that we do it quickly and quietly.” “It’s hard enough getting married without Rose and Bee here. Don’t make me do it without Syrah, too.” That did the trick. His face puckered for a moment and then he sighed. “Oh, fucking hell, fine. If it makes you happy. But she has to keep her mouth shut.”
“I would have hoped it was obvious,” I tease. “But since you need more of a clue…” I reach for his pants and start unbuckling him. Before I can get far, he grabs my hands, stopping me. “Excuse me,” I complain. “I’m in the middle of gift-giving here.” He tries to suppress his smile. “Wren, you’re nine months pregnant.”
“Mhmm. And?” “And I don’t want you on your knees.”
“Your cock seems to disagree.” “He usually does,” Dmitri grunts. “But you don’t have to do this.”
And of course—the notes. A few months ago, I would’ve recoiled in disgust at the thought of it. Now, I don’t give a fuck. What’s the point of dignity when you don’t even have your wife to share it with? So fuck it, I’ll grovel. One handwritten note at a time.
“Uh, for sure,” I mumble weakly. I’m painfully aware that I most definitely do not have the same kind of problem that these women do. But how do I chime in with the truth? What can I say? My husband takes every single late night feed so that I have an uninterrupted stretch of sleep? My husband changes every diaper he’s around for uncomplainingly? He sings while he does it? He stocks the pantry with my favorite snacks and rubs my feet before bed? They’ll hate me. Hell, I’d hate me. And for some inexplicable reason, I do want to fit in with these mothers.
Thank you—Wren.
You’re welcome—Your husband. I laughed, against my better instinct.
Mischa smiled at me today. It reminded me of you. I miss sleeping next to you at night. It feels like I’m missing a part of my body. Bee’s driving me crazy up here. Can’t wait to kick her out one day. Probably through the door—possibly through the window. I heard you singing to our son in the nursery yesterday. It makes me prouder than you know to see you become his mother. I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d tried.
I love you. I miss you. I dream of you at night.
“Wren!” I snarl. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was—” She silences me with her lips and, as much as I want to say more, I find myself completely losing my train of thought. When we finally break away, new adrenaline is surging through my body.
“What happened to needing space?” I can’t help but tease. “Fuck space,” she snaps in a tone that’s far more Bee than Wren. Still, it suits her. “I almost lost you today. And it made me realize that I’d rather fight with you every single day for the rest of our lives than live a life without you in it.” My God, that feels good to hear. “So I can come home now?” Tears shine brightly in her eyes. “Please.”
I wrap my arms around her tight—and apparently, I squash my son in the process, because he cries out loudly. I take him from Wren and kiss his forehead. “You hear that, little...
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“We were always a family, Dmitri,” Wren corrects with a contented sigh—just before her eyes turn bright and dangerous. “But I swear to God, if you ever keep secrets from me again—” “I know, I know: you’ll kick my ass.” “Ha! Your ass will be the least of your worries,” she warns, seizing my balls in a tight grasp. Then, giggling, she releases them and kisses me hard again while our son coos between...
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“The ceremony was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago,” I remind Bee as she slips into place just behind me. “She’s late.” She barely deigns to look at me as she adjusts the collar of her black Prada suit. “A queen is never late,” Bee prattles in a fake English accent, quoting some movie or other I’ve never seen and never will. “Everyone else is simply early.”
Luckily, Wren doesn’t have to carry him for long, because Aleks walks up and takes the baby and her arm in one motion. I’ll admit, I actually get a little choked up watching him walk her down the aisle. I had no idea he was going to do it. “Did you know about that?” I mutter to Bee. “Yup. Fitting, don’t you think?” She smiles. “And look at that baby! Isn’t he just a little heartthrob in his tux?” As Aleks and Wren approach the altar, Syrah comes forward to take her turn with Mischa. My brother kisses Wren’s cheek and retreats to his place in line while the music crescendos and Wren takes the
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Aleks clears his throat as he takes the mic. He’s pulling triple duty today: best man, bridal escort, and now, officiant. I’m sure he’ll bitch about the workload for months to come. “We are gathered here today to celebrate Wren and Dmitri. I was there at the beginning of their strange, non-traditional courtship and, lemme tell ya, it was a doozy.” Wren bursts out laughing and his grin spreads as he continues. “They went through a lot those first few months. More than most people go through in a lifetime—and yet somehow, they found each other at the end of it. They found love and friendship;
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“Dmitri,” Wren starts, holding both my hands tightly, “I had about five months to think about what I wanted to say to you today—unlike the first time, when I had, like, five hours. And when you have that much time to think about vows, you find yourself going back to the beginning. You find yourself thinking through every
moment you’ve shared together.” She takes a deep breath. “We have been through so, so much. We’ve overcome so, so much. There were times I didn’t think we’d make it and days when I thought we were all wrong for one another. But time and time again, you proved me wrong. You fought for me. You cared for me. You protected me. And I’ve never had that in my life before I met you. So my vow to you today is this: I know marriage is hard and life is harder. So no matter what comes our way, I promise to keep forgiving you; I promise to keep loving you. For the rest of our lives.”
Aleks chuckles as he hands me the microphone. “Good luck beating that, bro.” I lace my fingers through Wren’s. “Moya devushka, you are my queen, my goddess, the music in my life. I wasn’t aware my world was so dark until you stepped into it and brought the sun with you. I didn’t know what I was missing until you gave me a son, a family. And for that, I will always be grateful. You are my equal...
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I can’t help smiling proudly. But I didn’t bring him out here to talk business. “How about we call it even? Because I’ve got a promotion for you, too.” I feel his confused frown. “You didn’t get promoted that high just yet, Mrs. Egorov…” Laughing, I put both of my frozen hands on either side of his face and look up at him. “I think I did, actually. Because I’m promoting you from father of one… to father of two.” It takes a moment for the news to process. When it does, his jaw falls open and this incredulous look of wonder takes over.
My God, how I love that look. It makes me want to bear Dmitri’s babies again and again and again just so I can see it a million times. “I—You—We—Fucking hell, how long have you known?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he pulls me into his arms and lifts me off my feet to spin us both around in a circle. It’s still cold out and Mitchell still resents me and my sister is gone and a million and one other problems await us in the future. But for right now, right here, life is perfect. Not a damn thing out of place.
