Page 94 of Sinful Blaze

“Careful, sister.”

“‘Careful’ is exactly what I want you to be with Daphne. Same with Mak and Mama. You already carelessly sowed your seed and got pretty fucking lucky that it’s her and not some airheaded bimbo without enough good sense to fill her bra cups. But you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me that your overprotective obsession is enough to lock things down with her. Women need more than just shelter and resources—they need commitment. Children need commitment.”

I’m not going to argue with her on this. I don’t even know where I’d start, frankly. “Fucking hell,” I say with a suddenly exhausted sigh.

Sofi’s mouth twitches in a wry grin. “Which means…?”

“You know damn well what it means.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

I grit my teeth. “It means I will. It means you’re right. Mama’s right. Fuck, even Mak is right. I’ll give Daphne my ring and my name, and our daughter will have everything she needs.”

“Music to my ears,” she says with a giddy grin. “But is that all you’ll give her?”

The way Sofi asks it, all gentle and shit, sets me on an uncomfortable edge. I know what she’s asking. What she’s really asking.

“It’s all I can give. It’s all I’m able to.”

She sighs, but she lets it go. Thank God.

I can make Daphne my wife and our daughter my legitimate heir. They deserve my protection and all the benefits that come with bearing my name.

But love? Affection? I wouldn’t know those things if they stabbed me in the throat.

I can’t give her what I’m pretty sure I don’t have.

36

DAPHNE

“There’s my girls!” Asya coos at Sofi and me when we approach the restaurant for lunch. She gets up out of her seat to kiss Sofi’s cheeks, then pulls me in for a hug. “I’m so happy we can have some time together! Come, sit, eat.”

I do two out of the three and gear up my excuse for not doing the third. “I’m not very hungry?—”

“Nonsense,” Asya interrupts before I even get halfway into my B.S. “You are eating for two, and I remember how hungry my babies always were. You must be famished.”

Well, shit. I am. I can feel my stomach rumble, and my daughter is throwing her voice in the mix.

Asya smiles at me knowingly and reaches across the table to pat my hand. “My treat. I insist.”

My face heats and I’m suddenly too shy to look her in the eyes. “Thank you.”

What is it about this family that keeps melting me into a gooey puddle of feelings? It’s not that she’s treating me to lunch, which is obviously already beyond generous; it’s more how she does it. Like she’s caring for me.

Like she cares about me.

Which is so… so…

So unlike my own mother.

Plates come and go. In between courses, Asya laces her fingers together and grins at me. “So…? Have you chosen a name yet?”

“I, ah… I’m still exploring options? I don’t want to rush and give her a bad name.”

Asya clicks her tongue. “Pshkt, any name on a child half as beautiful as you will be perfect.”

Sofi nods. “Mama’s right. Go with your instincts. Have you thought about the kind of name you want? Like, Americanized or not? Natalie or Natalya, Helen or Yelena. You get the idea.”

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