Page 107 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“Dead,” I confirm. “Anton shot him after he stabbed you.”

Damir nods slightly, wincing at the movement. “Good.”

I take his face in my hands, careful not to disturb the oxygen tube running under his nose. His stubble is rough against my palms. “I need you,” I say, my voice breaking despite my efforts to stay strong. “Our baby needs a father, and this has to be the final fight.”

His eyes widen slightly at the mention of our child as he rests his hand on my still-flat stomach. “How is he?”

“He’s fine. We’re both fine.” I place my hand over his. “The doctors checked me out while you were in surgery. Everything’s normal.”

Damir nods, his expression serious. “I’m out. I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but this was in the works even before you issued the ultimatum. No more. Anton will take over.”

The words I’ve been waiting to hear for months make me gasp softly. The promise of a normal life, away from the violence and danger that has defined our relationship since the beginning, fills me with hope. “You mean it?” I ask, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

“I mean it.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “I almost lost you both. I won’t risk that again.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tighten. He’s never lied to me beyond some omissions, and after he promised to be honest with me, he has been as far as I know. I trust him. “I love you.” The words are still new on my tongue despite everything we’ve been through.

His eyes darken, pupils dilating. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” I say, leaning closer. “I’m yours, and I’m not leaving.”

We kiss, carefully but deeply. His lips are dry and chapped, but still warm and familiar against mine. I’m mindful of his injuries, keeping my weight off his torso, but I pour everything I feel into the kiss. All the fear of the past two days, all the relief of seeing him awake, and all the hope for our future together.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his. “You scared me. When I saw you collapse, when there was so much blood...”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, taking my hand.

“Don’t apologize. Just keep your promise. No more fighting. No morebratva.”

“No more,” he agrees. “Just you and me and our son, but it will take a few months to get out.”

I smile, picturing it for the first time without fear clouding the image. A normal life. A family. “I like the sound of that, and I understand you can’t just stop overnight.”

Damir shifts slightly in the bed, making room beside him. “Come here,” he says, patting the narrow space.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I look pointedly at his bandages.

“You won’t.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “I need to hold you.”

Carefully, I climb onto the bed, mindful of the IV lines and monitoring equipment. I settle against his uninjured side, resting my head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around me, holding me close.

“The doctors will have a fit if they see me in your bed,” I say, though I make no move to get up.

“Let them,” he says, his voice stronger now. “You’re my wife. This is where you belong.”

I close my eyes, breathing in his scent and feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. For the first time in days, the tension in my shoulders begins to ease.

“When can I go home?” he asks, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair.

“Not for a few days at least. You need to regain your strength, and before you argue, remember I’m almost a doctor. I know what I’m talking about.”

He chuckles, then winces. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Sorry,” I say, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “But I’m serious. You’re staying here until the doctors clear you.”

“Fine, but only because you asked.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a generous husband.”

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