Page 85 of Inked Athena

“Then give me the crazy version.” Hope sits up, crossing her legs and fixing me with herI promise I’m being seriouslook. “You’ve tamed your Russian beast. Share your secrets.”

I snort. “‘Tamed’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence, babe.”

“Oh, please. I’ve been watching you two. You’re head over heels?—”

“I wouldn’t sayheadover?—”

“—and trust me, baby girl, it’s mutual.”

My traitorous heart skips. I roll the thought around before curiosity wins. “You think?”

“Nova, seriously?” Hope’s eyes bug out of her head. “The man moves mountains for you. His methods are questionable as fuck, but his devotion isn’t. I’m here living large literally just because he wanted to see you smile.” She points at her feet, then taps her temple. “Head. Heels. I know it.”

I let out an exhale as my chin droops to my chest and the dress I was folding goes fluttering out of my hands.

“Things have been good lately,” I admit softly.

“Exactly. So when’s he gonna make you his queen?”

That unleashes a rain cloud right over my parade. Things have been good, yes. But “good” doesn’t mean “forever-after” good.

I shouldn’t indulge these fantasies of Samuil on one knee, or waiting at the altar in a tailored tux. What we have is enough.

It has to be.

“You’re on the spot and I’m not letting you out of it,” Hope says with another gentle poke in my belly. “It’s a valid question. You’re carrying his spawn.”

“That’s different. We’ll be family, but... marriage isn’t Samuil’s style.”

“Bullshit,” she retorts. “He married that psycho Katerina. You’re an upgrade in every way.”

“And look how that ended!” I plop back down on the mattress next to her. “He’s not exactly rushing back to the altar.”

“That’s like…” Hope’s face scrunches as she thinks. “Getting mauled by a tiger, then saying you don’t like puppies. You’re nothing like her.”

“That’s the issue,” I mumble. “She belonged in his world.”

“And that matters because...?”

Restlessly, I get to my feet. “Because it means she knew what she was getting into. She knew how to be a Bratva wife. She understood his world, his life, what was expected of her.”

“And yet, she’s hisex-wife and you’re his pregnant girlfriend. So maybe this wholeI’m-not-the-right-woman-for-himbit is just a way of sabotaging yourself and this relationship so you can avoid getting hurt.”

Oof.

I start pacing, if only to put a little distance between myself and Hope’s blunt brand of truth-telling. “I’m not trying to sabotage anything. I’m just…” I huff out a breath. “I’m trying to be realistic, Hope. When it’s just the two of us, that’s one thing. But I don’t know how to be in Samuil’s world.”

“I got news for you, honey. That baby in your belly means you’re going to be a part of his world permanently, whether you like it or not.”

I turn my gaze towards the London skyline. The clouds overhead are gray, dense, cottony. A light drizzle is misting over the roses out on the balcony.

“You make a good point.”

She rises and joins me at the window, looping her arm through mine and resting her head on my shoulder. A gesture so familiar it makes my throat tight. “You know what I see when I look at you two?”

I shake my head slightly, not trusting my voice.

“I see the way he watches you when you’re not looking. Like you’re this rare, beautiful thing he can’t quite believe is real. And I see the way you soften around him. How your walls come down brick by brick.” She squeezes my arm. “That’s not about being a perfect Bratva wife or fitting some mold. That’s about two people choosing each other despite everything.”

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