Page 123 of Ruthless Lullaby

“Yes, Grandma.” I smile back.

“My sweet child. Would you like some tea?” She asks as if I hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her.

I shake my head and watch her as she takes another sip from her cup. It's clear her fragile memory has already erased what I just told her. We continue to sit in silence until eventually she drifts off to a peaceful slumber. I watch her for a few more minutes, taking in her serene expression and delicate features. Even in her advanced age, Larissa is still beautiful. She must have been a bombshell back in the day - no wonder she gave birth to someone like Maron.

Gently, I place a pillow under her head and tuck her in with a soft, cozy blanket before slipping out of the room.

***

I close the door behind me and make my way to the kitchen, where I find Maron finishing up his breakfast. His eyes light up as I enter, and a small smile spreads across his face.

"Moya krasivaya,"he says, pushing his chair back and gesturing for me to join him. I gladly oblige, settling into the seat next to him. He reaches for my hand, interlacing our fingers. "You're up early. Were you visiting mom?"

I nod, squeezing his hand gently. "I was. We just finished our morning tea ceremony."

"How is she? Still completely smitten with you?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with affection.

I can't help but grin, feeling the warmth of his gaze on me. "I think she does. And it goes both ways. She's a sweetheart."

Maron moves in and nuzzles my neck, his breath tickling my skin. "I can't blame her for being obsessed with you. You have that effect on my family, you know. Especially on me." He pulls back to look into my eyes, his gaze brimming with deep, unwavering affection.

My heart swells at his words. These past few weeks have been like a dream. "The feeling's mutual," I reply, leaning in to give him a soft kiss.

He runs his fingers through my hair, a gesture that's become so comfortingly familiar. "You turned this house into a home, you know that?"

“Oh?” I glance up. “Have I?” I ask, feeling warmth in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. The memories from last night before we fell asleep are still vivid in my mind.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” he murmurs. His hands wander to my breasts, his touch igniting a fire within me. I feel the familiar warmth pooling between my thighs. "If I wasn't so damn busy, I'd spend all day showing you just how much I love having you here," he growls softly, his fingers trailing down to grip my ass possessively before he stands up. "But duty calls. Tramoxine isn’t going to launch itself."

I know he has to go to work. I arch into his touch, wishing we had more time to spend together. "I’ll be waiting for you tonight," I promise, my voice husky with desire.

He groans, clearly as reluctant to leave as I am to let him go. "You little tease. You’re making it very hard for me to be responsible right now."

I laugh, playfully pushing him away. "Go on, Mr. Big Shot. Go make that money. I'll be here when you get back."

As he grabs his jacket, Maron turns back to me, his eyes soft. "I love you, Mindy. More than I ever thought possible."

"I love you too, Maron," I reply, my heart full. "Go knock 'em dead."

I almost ask him how Maurice is handling his part, but decide against it. He's still a sensitive topic between us and I don’t want to risk reopening old wounds. At least not right now.

"And what's your plan for today?" he asks as he shrugs on his jacket, snapping me out of my thoughts. The broadness of his shoulders and the muscles straining under his shirt are almost making me drool.

"I'm headed to see Betty," I reply. "Haven't caught up with her in a while."

"Then send her my regards," Maron says before giving me a kiss goodbye and exiting the kitchen.

I plop back down on the chair and stretch my arms over my head. Suddenly, I feel a little poke in my stomach. Without thinking much of it, I instinctively reach down and place my hand on the spot. This is not the first time that the precious soul growing in me reminds me of its presence.

But it’s time for breakfast. I stand and swing open the fridge, pulling out some cheese, caviar, and garlic bread. Deciding to switch things up, I opt for a savory meal today. I slide the garlic bread into the oven, inhaling the heavenly aroma as it fills the kitchen. Then, I sit down, reflecting on how my life has taken a complete one-eighty recently.

The last few months have been a wild ride, to say the least. Learning that Maron's tied up with the Bratva was a shock at first. I still remember the night he told me. I didn’t fully understand it back then, and I have a feeling that I still don’t.

"The Bratva is a world of its own, Mindy," Maron had said, his eyes searching mine for understanding. "It's not just about money and violence. It's a complex network of relationships, traditions, and yes, sometimes illegal trades. But it's also about protection, loyalty, and a special kind of honor."

He took the time to explain it to me - the structure of the organization, his role within it, and how he balances his legitimate businesses with his Bratva role. He was patient with my questions, honest about the dangers, and reassuring about the precautions he takes to keep us safe.

"I'm not asking you to be involved," he'd said, holding my hands tightly. "I just need you to understand that this is a part of my life. It's who I am, but it doesn't define all of me."

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