Page 93 of Beautiful Scar

It’s more than I deserve.

“You haven’t talked much about the baby,” she whispers, pressing closer like she’s trying to burrow into my ribcage.

“I haven’t wanted to overwhelm you.”

“Are you nervous? Are you excited? I know there’s been a lot going on with Vito’s funeral and all the changes you’re making to the house, but still.”

I kiss her hair and breathe in her scent. “I’m sorry, baby. If you don’t know how excited I am for this child, then I’ve let you down yet again.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“It’s all I can think about. Every day, I picture you with a big swollen belly, you with a baby in your arms, and you walking around my house with a toddler in tow. I picture our child growing in this house under our care. I imagine the laughter, the heartbreak, all the sleepless nights. And I can’t fucking wait for it.”

She laughs lightly and tilts her head up for a kiss. “Here I was thinking I might go back to Philadelphia when this was all over.”

“There’s nooveranymore between us, baby,” I say simply. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She bites her lip. “What if I want that?”

I only shake my head. “I don’t care. You’re my family. You’re my wife. And that’sourchild. I’m keeping you both here where I can make sure you’re safe and protected for the rest of your lives.”

It’s so simple, really. I don’t know why I ever thought I could let her leave after getting her pregnant. Maybe then I didn’t realize how important she would become and how much I need to be around her all the damn time, but there’s no going back. It’s way too late to change.

She’s mine. That’s all I care about.

We talk about the baby for a little while longer. I think it eases some of her anxiety. Before I even realize how long it’s been, there’s a knock at the door and Alexan’s voice. “Sir, Mr. Zeitsev is here to see you.”

Dasha tenses in my arms. She doesn’t move. I half expected her to jump up at the chance to see her father, but clearly whatever bond made them close has snapped and won’t ever repair itself.

Not that I can blame her.

Rage fills my heart as I get to my feet.

“You can stay here if you want,” I say softly, giving her a hard look. “This won’t be pleasant.”

“I need to see him.” She accepts my hand, and I help her up. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure it’s a good idea, and we go down to my study together.

Her father is waiting near the bookcase. He looks the same as he did before: wiry with a hard stare and a sharp frown.

I close the door behind us.

“Hello, Tigran,” her father says. He doesn’t approach to shake. His eyes keep flicking to his daughter and back to me again, and he’s on edge.

“Serge.” I hold his gaze for a long, difficult moment. But Dasha’s the one who breaks the tension.

“Hello, Dad,” she says, sticking close to my side. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,Dashenka,” he says, his tone softening. I hate this weak, pathetic man with all the fire in my soul, but he clearly cares about his daughter, even if he is too pathetic to do what’s required of a true father. “You look well. Tigran’s taking good care of you.”

“Don’t be silly, Dad,” Dasha says brightly. “I look like shit. Hard to ignore all the cuts and bruises, right? I guess you know how I got them all.”

Serge grimaces. He glances at me, clearly nervous. “I heard. I’m sorry,Dashenka. If I had known?—”

“Don’t speak to her again.” I take a step toward him. His eyes narrow. I bet this man isn’t used to being spoken to in such a manner, but he’d better start acclimating. “You will not address my wife in my presence. You’ve lost that privilege.”

“That’s my daughter,” he says, eyebrows raised in surprise.

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