Page 191 of Deceitful Vows

Unsure of the cause of his suddenly dour mood, Zoya hesitantly nods. When it whitens his cheeks more than the mammoth operation he undertook thirty-six hours ago, she says, “I thought that was what you wanted, Zak?”

“I did, but…” He takes a moment to consider a nicer approach. When his pause for contemplation leaves him empty-handed, he hits Zoya with brutal honesty. “That’s a little gross now.”

Zoya’s shocked huff is drowned out by Mikhail’s chuckle. It is the chuckle of a man who no longer has a bullet in his stomach but is still feeling the effects of going against an army alone. “Tell me about it, bud. I’m still traumatized, and she didn’t make me.”

Gingerly, he enters the room, brushes shoulders with Zoya, and then playfully ribs her out of her frozen-in-shock state.

After taking in three sets of admiring eyes staring at her, she murmurs, “What am I missing?”

Since Zak is too young to know tact, he breaks the news I’m dying to share with her first. “You’re my mommy!”

Hours ago, that confession would have added a timer to her head.

Now, it ties her to me for life.

Thank fuck.

78

ZOYA

Afamiliar aroma stands the hairs on my nape to attention a second before it engulfs my senses. I must have been in a deep sleep, as the paintings lining the hallway I am being walked down are different from the ones outside Zakhar’s room.

Andrik moved us to a new location not long after my meeting with Henry Gottle Sr.—the boss of all mafia bosses.

The information his grandfather handed him before taking his life exonerated me of any wrongdoing in Yulia’s death. I sent the email warning them of the repercussions if they were to back out of a deal made before Andrik learned of Maksim’s interest in the Myasnikov District, but it was Andrik Sr.’s involvement they paid the most attention to. But Andrik didn’t want to risk any further repercussions occurring in a territory not ruled by him.

I still feel guilty as hell as to what has occurred, though you probably wouldn’t believe me if you saw footage of my last four hours.

Zakhar is my son. My flesh and blood.

I was determined to protect him before I was aware of that, so I can’t pledge that I wouldn’t have taken as drastic of steps as his great-grandfather did if he still needed a new heart.

The reminder prompts me as to why I fell asleep on a rock-hard chair. “Zakhar…”

A stern rumble doubles the output of my heart. “Is safe. He’s resting. Now I need to make sure you’re taken care of the same way.”

After smirking at my fake huff of annoyance, like I’m not loving his endeavor to ensure I am aware of my importance in his life, Andrik walks us into a manly room at the end of a long hallway.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when his steps veer us to the bathroom instead of the bed. I feel dirty and gross, but I’m not as fond of bathroom antics as Nikita is.

Mine have always resulted in a negative outcome.

“I—”

“Shh,?????.Not yet. All of that can wait until after I’ve showered you, fed you, and put you to bed.”

Goose bumps break across my skin when he places me onto the vanity a second before his hand shoots down to the hem of the shirt I borrowed from Nikita. His fingertips float over my midsection with a tenderness the agitation in his eyes shouldn’t allow.

He’s been quiet since Zakhar’s blurted confession. I didn’t need words to know Zak was telling the truth. The sheer ownership in Andrik’s eyes told me everything I needed to know.

I am a mother.

The excitement the remembrance blisters through me is shocking. You could only surprise me more if you told me my mother was responsible for this plot twist in my story I never saw coming.

Although my heart hasn’t stopped whacking out a funky tune for hours, it won’t stop me from seeking answers. “How?”

Andrik grunts as if frustrated by my inability to follow orders. I may have believed his dislike if he hadn’t hardened the instant the first syllable escaped my lips.

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