Page 66 of Captured By the Bratva

We’re huddled around my laptop, scrolling through pages of baby furniture. Ivan, ever the meticulous planner, leans over my shoulder, inspecting every item with intense scrutiny.

“Look at this crib,” I say, pointing at a simple, white model with delicate carvings on the sides. “It’s cute, don’t you think?”

Ivan frowns, his eyes narrowing as he studies the description. “What’s the material? And this weight limit… it says up to fifty pounds. Not sure that’s enough.”

I laugh, nudging him playfully. “Ivan, we’re talking about a baby, not a tank. Fifty pounds is more than enough.”

He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What if it’s flimsy? We need something that’s reinforced.”

“Oh my gosh,” I laugh, unable to keep a straight face. “Are we really looking for ‘reinforced cribs’ now? Want a bulletproof one too?”

“Yes,” he replies seriously. But when he catches my grin, his expression softens, and a rare smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose I may perhaps be overthinking it.”

“A bit?” I tease, nudging him again. “Just a bit of a worrywart?”

His hand covers mine on the table, and for a moment, he just looks at me, warmth in his gaze. “I’d give anything to keep you both safe, Cathy.”

The weight of his words settles over me, and I squeeze his hand, my own smile fading into something tender. “I know, Ivan. And I love you for it.”

Nik strolls into the room, his usual swagger softened by the smile he shoots our way.

“Boss, I didn’t peg you for a ‘nursery-planning’ type,” he says, eyebrows raised as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “What’s next, baby-proofing the wine cellar?”

Ivan rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Laugh all you want. You’ll be the one standing guard outside the nursery.”

“I’ll be sure to practice lullabies in my spare time,” Nik grins, giving me a wink.

The sound of footsteps makes us turn as Anya enters, carrying a tray with glasses of tea and a small plate of pastries.

“I thought you might want something sweet,” she says, setting the tray down with a warm smile. “You’ll need the energy with all this planning.”

“Thank you, Anya,” I say, taking one of the delicate pastries and savoring the flaky, buttery layers.

Anya’s eyes twinkle as she watches us. “It’s a wonderful thing,” she says, her tone soft. “Seeing this house become a real home again, as if Elena were still here.”

Ivan looks around at the three of us, his expression uncharacteristically open. “She would be happy, as would my mother,” he admits, his voice softer than I’m used to.

Nik lets out a low chuckle, clapping Ivan on the shoulder. “Who knew you’d turn out to be a family man? I did some research for you. A bulletproof crib is feasible, for a price.”

Ivan glances at me. “Just in case,” he says with a smile.

48

CATHY

The next morning, Ivan and I set to work trying to baby-proof parts of the mansion. It turns out to be a far more entertaining task than I’d anticipated, especially with Ivan’s intense approach to it.

We start with a baby gate for the top of the staircase, but the pieces quickly become a puzzle that even Ivan’s sharp mind struggles to solve. He examines the gate with a frown, brow furrowed, looking more puzzled than I’ve ever seen him.

“This can’t be right,” he mutters, turning the piece in his hands.

I stifle a laugh, watching his intense focus. “Are you sure you don’t need the instructions?”

Ivan gives me a look, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve put an MG42 together in the black of a moonless winter night. I can do this.”

Nik passes by, eyeing the gate with amusement. “Need a hand, Boss?”

Ivan shoots him a glare. “No.”

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