Page 223 of The Lazarov Bratva

That’s another reason I want to keep my new pregnancy a secret. Last time, with Tatiana, was horrific, and ever since I saw those two blue lines, I’ve woken up drenched in cold sweat, terrified Mara is going to reappear and try to steal my child again. Kristof’s own sleepless nights tell me I’m not the only one triggered.

“I know,” I assure him, “but I want to keep this a secret, just for us, for as long as possible. I want to do this properly. Besides…” My lips curl into a smirk. “You’ll lose access to my pussy if you dare breathe a word to anyone.”

Sealing my promise with a kiss, Kristof groans against my lips and presses me into the counter. Plastic cups scrape against the countertop when I place one hand backward, seeking to balance myself while Kristof’s wandering hands cup my ass and squeeze hard, pulling my hips against his.

“Would you deny your poor, suffering husband access to such a sweet thing? Just try and keep me away, darling.” He deepens the kiss with a tilt of his head, and my mind goes blank. Heat pulses through me, and my core flexes at the thought of beating our record of a quickie until the excited cries of children break through my thoughts.

“Mmm, I won’t because I can’t keep my hands off your dick, but don’t think I won’t deny you if you’re bad.”

“Oh, you know all about being bad,” Kristof smirks with a final kiss, then he pulls back. “Don’t worry. Bean will remain a secret until you’re comfortable telling people.”

“Good.” A final kiss, and I return to the shaved ice. It doesn’t take long to turn several cubes into snow-like crushed ice. A few squirts of syrup and they’ll be ready for the kids. As Kristof helps, the glint of his prosthetic catches my eye above the leather glove he wears as a now constant, reminding me of something.

“Were you able to wrap up the land rights dispute with our new hospital?”

Kristof pauses his squirting of the syrup and squints at me. “I thought you said no work.”

“The hospital isn’t work,” I remind him. “It’s a passion project.”

“Or you’re just passionate about your work,” he teases, resuming the squirting of blue syrup over each snow cone I pass him. “It’s all sorted, though. It was easy enough in the end.”

“Excellent.” Ever since Kristof was fitted with his first prosthetic, my passion for special amputee care centers has grown. Through Kristof’s own experience, even with all the money and power we share, it was tough for him to receive good care or even decent therapy, so it became my task to build places that could give that to people regardless of funds.

It doesn’t hurt the Orlova name, either.

As he finishes the last of the syrup, I scoop ice cubes into plastic cups for the adults and add a sparkly straw to each one, then as Kristof reaches for the tray, I catch his hand.

He pauses as I gently peel back some of the leather glove and lightly kiss the gold plating underneath.

“I know you’ll stop wearing the glove when you’re comfortable, but I definitely miss how you used to be able to hold me down.” My teasing is light because, despite our desires, Kristof is very careful with his new hand.

He smiles in turn and presses leather-clad fingers to my jawline. “The new attachments will have more than enough variety to please you.”

“Oh, really?” I lift one brow. “You’re making a lot of promises there.”

“Have I ever disappointed?”

“No. That’s why I’m pregnant again.”

Kristof snorts with laughter, then kisses my cheek. “Too true.”

“Can you get the cake?” Leaving that to Kristof, I balance the two trays of ice back out into the garden where it only takes me a few minutes to fill each cup with a drink for all the adults at the party and pass the snow cones out to each child.

“Come here, darling!” Tatiana tumbles off August’s shoulders and into my waiting arms with a giggle just as Kristof appears with a two-tiered cake covered in peach icing and decorated with several fondant parrots. Lit candles sparkle on top, and the moment everyone catches sight of the cake, a chorus of Happy Birthday rings in the air.

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Tatiana! Happy Birthday to you!”

It’s enough to bring a tear to my eye, and I dab at the corner of my lashes while Tatiana giggles excitedly. Kristof sets the cake down on the edge of the buffet table, and I walk closer with one arm firm around Tatiana’s waist so she doesn’t accidentally lean too far toward the cake.

Life has never been better with Kristof by my side and my baby in my arms.

“Alright, sweetie, are you ready to blow out your candles?”

“Yeah!” Tatiana bounces in my arms and claps her hands together.

“Okay, on three. One… two… three!”

Leaning forward with her, Kristof and I help her blow out every one of the candles on top of the cake, and those around us celebrate with cheers and drinks. August offers to cut the cake, and Katja takes Tatiana from me to distract her while the sharp knives are about. Everyone kisses her and wishes her Happy Birthday, even going as far as to congratulate me, and it’s enough to have tears springing into my eyes.

---