Page 29 of Sinful Blaze

So instead of pouring it on thick…

I just exhale.

“Just… relax. Take some time to just process this. And when the test results come in…” My fingers instinctively brush along the curve of her jaw and already, I want more. So much more. “You’re not doing this alone. If this baby is mine, I’m not going to run for the hills. I’m going to be right here, by your side, through everything. I won’t allow you to raise them alone.”

Daphne’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

And then, to my surprise, she hugs me. Tight. Her face buries into my chest and I’m overwhelmed by her scent, her touch, the way she feels pressed against me even in this moment of raw vulnerability.

Then, reluctantly, she peels away. She rubs the heels of her hands into her eyes to hide the tears, straightens up, and pulls her mask back into place.

“Thank you, Pasha,” she says curtly, her voice thick and unreadable.

I nod and we stand looking at each other for one more moment. Then I help her into the passenger seat, shut the door for her, and grab my phone to send a text to the family group thread.

PASHA: We might have a problem.

9

PASHA

Blyat’.

I need another drink.

The bottle of vodka hasn’t left my side for the better part of an hour, which is how long I’ve been staring at the laptop screen. Trying to process this email.

Trying to process the fact that I, Pasha Mikhail Anatoly Chekov, am about to become a father.

Sofiya’s sing-song voice rings in my ears. “Is that a problem…? Or a blessing?”

I chug more vodka down and pray the screen will start swimming enough for all the information to blur together until it makes sense.

Because as it stands now, none of this makes sense.

I had everything meticulously planned out. Makari was supposed to be the family continuer. He should have been the one to go to the gallery and flirt with the attendants and?—

No. Can’t think about that what if. Even though he’s my little brother, the mental image of him being the one to sweep Daphne off her feet and into that storage closet makes my stomach churn.

So does this mean I have no regrets?

Maybe one: ever letting Daphne out of my sight once I’d heard how beautifully she sounded moaning in my ear. If I’d possessed her like I wanted to, she never would’ve slipped away and suffered through this on her own. I could’ve tasted her again. At the very least, we would have caught onto this sooner.

And I’d have had more time to absorb the new reality.

Me.

A father.

Fuck.

I tap out a text to my assistant and return to the screen. I need to figure out where I recognize her mother from. Something tells me that’s going to be a fucking nightmare waiting to happen.

The door to my office opens. Paris, my assistant, sashays into the room with my two siblings close behind. I don’t look at her; I don’t have to in order to see the way she’s provocatively dressed.

Paris still hasn’t gotten the memo: we’re done. Over. No amount of belly-baring “professional” attire is going to entice me to bend her over my desk ever again.

The fact that our convenient little arrangement ended the day after the gallery auction is merely a coincidence.

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