This child is mine.
“Look,” she says, “I’m sorry I crashed your wedding. Believe it or not, I really am. And not just because your bride’s family wants to kill me right now.” She wrings her bound hands, gaze suddenly low and shy. “I just… didn’t have a choice.”
I have no reason to believe her. She could be a liar, a spy, both, something else entirely. And yet, for some reason, I do.
“I’m guessing those have something to do with it?” I say, glancing towards the cuffs.
She gives a stiff nod. “I was kidnapped today. One of the guys was Russian, I think. The other—I don’t know. But they mentioned you by name.”
Just like that, my blood begins to boil. I stride towards Ms. Flowers—April. The mother of my child. I see her flinch: does she think I’d hit her? That I’deverhurt what’s mine?
I bring the bolt cutters to her handcuffs and snip the chain in half. “Grisha will help you with those,” I tell her, resisting the suddenly powerful urge to tuck away a stray curl behind her ear. “Later.”
I’m furious. Of course I’m furious: April Flowers just single-handedly destroyed months of careful planning. My dreams, which were so close only minutes ago, are already slipping away from my grasp. If I don’t handle this the right way, I will lose everything.
And yet, I’m not furious with her now.
I’m furious with whoever thought they could lay a hand onmy childand live.
My child—and the mother who carries it.
“How far along are you?” I ask.
April blinks at me, like she wasn’t expecting this question. “Thirty-nine weeks.”
I frown. “You’re due soon.”
“Last week, actually,” she mutters. “It’s—a thing. My family does this. Our babies tend to run late.”
Kidnapping a nine-month pregnant woman.When I find the pieces of shit who did this, there won’t be a single bone left to bury.
“I swear I’m not making this up,” April carries on, panicked. “You can check on the test; it’s all in there?—”
“I believe you.”
It’s the second time I’ve said that today. It’s not a usual thing for me. But nothing about today is usual.
I finally let myself look at her belly. Full, swollen—withmychild.I’m going to be a father.
“Matvey!”
Someone bursts in. I make a grab for my gun, pushing April behind my back, ready to defend her against the entire Solovyov Bratva if I have to?—
—and then I see who it is.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I was about to shoot, you know.”
Perhaps I should have. Instead, I’m treated to the sight of my second- and third-in-command elbowing each other to get to me. Yuri’s still covered in cake frosting, while Grisha has a long, white feather sticking out of his hair like Yankee fucking Doodle.
“Are you okay, brother? What?—”
“Is everything alright, boss? I thought?—”
“Quiet.”
At my command, they both settle down.
“Good,” I tell them. “Ms. Flowers, these are Yuri and Grisha. Yuri’s my brother. Grisha’s my third.” I point at each in turn, watching as they each give a stiff nod and stare at me like I’ve lost my last marble. “Sometimes, they both act like babies. I think they’ll make excellent practice for parenthood, so feel free to use them as such.”