Page 69 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

The two men exchange glances. I recognize the silent communication as they weigh Damir’s orders against my request.

“We’ll walk to the park,” says Fydor. “You can run there where we can maintain visual contact.”

I suppress a sigh. “Fine.”

Outside, the air is crisp, and I breathe deeply, savoring the freshness after being inside all morning aside from the trip to the pharmacy. My stomach rolls slightly—morning sickness making itself known—but I swallow hard and keep walking.

At the park entrance, Fydor points to a circular path. “Stay on this loop. Lev will position himself at the north end, and I’ll take the south. Do not leave our sight.”

“Yes, sir,” I say with a mock salute.

Fydor doesn’t smile. “Thepakhanwould have my head if anything happened to you.”

The words send a chill through me despite the warmth of the sun. Damir’s protectiveness has always been intense, but how much more controlling will he become when he learns about the baby? I start jogging, finding a steady rhythm on the paved path soon enough. The repetitive motion clears my head, allowing me to think more clearly about my situation.

Option one is to tell Damir immediately. He’d probably be thrilled in his own possessive way. A baby would tie me tohim permanently, which I suspect he’d want. Our arrangement would transform from temporary to forever.

Option two is to don’t tell him yet. Figure out what I want first. Do I want this baby? Do I want that kind responsibility and tie right now?

Before I finish the thought, I think about my childhood and close relationship with my mother, and I yearn for that again. This time, I’ll be the mother, and my baby will have a father who won’t run when responsibilities get too serious.

That’s one decision made, and it happens easily. I can only hope everything else, like telling Damir, happens just as smoothly. For now, I just run, focusing on the track ahead of me and letting my mind clear for a few blessed minutes.

20

Damir

Ispend the entire day with my security team, reviewing protocols and contingency plans. The intelligence we’ve received about increased surveillance from both Nikolai’s organization and federal agents has me on edge. Anton sits across from me at the conference table, his tablet open to a map of our territory.

“We’ve identified three new observation points,” he says, pointing to red markers on the digital map. “Two are federal, standard surveillance vans with rotating teams. The third belongs to Nikolai.”

I study the positions, noting their proximity to my legitimate businesses. “Have they approached any of our people?”

“Not yet. They’re gathering intelligence, not making moves.”

“Double the counter-surveillance teams. I want to know who’s watching and what they’re seeing.” I tap my finger on the glasstabletop. “And put extra security on Elena’s rotation at the hospital.”

Anton nods, making notes. “Already done. Fydor reported that she’s been followed twice this week by federal agents, not Nikolai’s men.”

My jaw tightens. The feds I can handle. They operate within predictable parameters. Nikolai is the wild card. He’s been quiet for weeks, which means he’s planning something significant.

“What about the new shipment routes?” I ask.

“Clean. We’ve vetted all drivers and secured the warehouse. The first delivery arrives tomorrow night.”

We spend another three hours going through every detail of our operation, identifying vulnerabilities and reinforcing weak points. By the time we finish, it’s earlier than I expected, just past six. Elena won’t be expecting me home for at least another hour.

The drive to the penthouse gives me time to decompress, to shift from pakhan to husband. The distinction has become increasingly blurred over the past months. What began as a business arrangement has evolved into something I never anticipated. Something I never thought I wanted.

When I enter the penthouse, I find Elena in the kitchen, scrolling through takeout menus on her tablet. She doesn’t notice me at first, giving me a moment to observe her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she’s changed from her hospital scrubs into leggings and one of my T-shirts. The sight of her in my clothing stirs something possessive inside me.

“Can’t decide?” I ask, setting my keys on the counter.

Elena startles, looking up with wide eyes. “You’re home early.”

I cross to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Meeting finished sooner than expected.”

“That’s good.” She returns to scrolling through the menus, flipping between options with unusual indecision. “I’m trying to figure out dinner. Thai or Italian?”

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