Page 79 of The Mafia King's Baby

“He’s a professional prosecutor who recognizes the value of what we’re offering. He’s not interested in small-scale justice when he can bring down an entire corruption network.”

As he talks, I watch his face and note the changes that stress and exhaustion have carved into his features. He looks older than when we first met, worn down by all the uncertainty, but there’s also something new in his expression that looks like hope.

“What about after the testimony? After we’ve given them everything they need?” Will they renege? Fear hits me, making me shudder.

“We disappear into our new identities and build the life we want.” His hand moves in gentle circles on my stomach. “Morocco, the Atlas Mountains, and a riad with a courtyard where our child can play safely.”

The image he describes feels simultaneously real and fantastical. Part of me can see it clearly because I can picture whitewashed walls, olive trees, and the sound of fountains, but another part struggles to believe we’ll ever reach that peaceful future. “I want to call my mother.”

“Did they give you a phone?” When I nod, he says, “You’ll be able to call her when you’re ready. She needs to know what’s happening and what her options are. Just remember, they’ll be monitoring everything.” Translation: Don’t mention our alternate plans of our own identities, resources, and Morocco to her yet.

The thought of explaining this situation to my mother makes me laugh despite everything. How do I tell her I’m pregnant by a Russian organized crime figure who’s about to enter federal witness protection after exposing corruption that reaches the highest levels of law enforcement? “She’s going to have questions.” Total understatement.

He laughs softly. “She’s going to have a lot of questions, but she’s also going to want to be part of her grandchild’s life, and this might be the only way to make that happen safely.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, processing the magnitude of the changes coming to our lives. “Are you scared?” I ask.

“Terrified.” His honesty surprises me. “Not of testifying or dealing with federal prosecutors, but of being responsible for someone else’s happiness and safety. Of starting over and being someone new without repeating past mistakes.”

Leonid scoffs. “You’ll figure it out. We both will. Uncle Leo will be there to help.”

I give him a smile. “Thank you, Leonid. I’m sure you didn’t expect all this when Yefrem brought me to the compound.”

He shakes his head. “I certainly didn’t. I disapproved of the whole idea, to be frank.”

I feign shock. “You didn’t like me? I had no idea.”

He has the grace to flush. “I didn’t dislike you. I just didn’t want a civilian to be in this mess, but it has worked out for the best. You make my friend happy, which is enough.” His expression softens. “I no longer disapprove.”

I smile, blinking back a rush of moisture that sears my eyes. “Thanks. I really do appreciate that.”

Yefrem has listened to our exchange and now claps Leonid on the back with one hand. The other remains firmly on my waist. “We’re family.” He seems satisfied and smiles before his expression changes to be more serious again. “I want our children to have stability and safety.” He pulls me closer. “Whatever it takes to give them that kind of life, I’ll do it.”

“Children? How many are you planning to have?” I ask, arching a brow.

He shrugs. “As many as feels right when the time comes,kotik.”

This tender side of him reminds me why I fell in love with him despite the circumstances that brought us together. He wants nothing more than to create peace for the family we’re building, and he loves me. It’s more than enough to offset the negatives.

The pregnancy exhaustion hits me suddenly with the kind of bone-deep tiredness that comes from carrying new life while processing traumatic stress. I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

His hand continues its gentle movement on my stomach, and I feel some of the stress hormones beginning to fade as my body accepts that he’s actually here, safe, and planning a future that includes both of us. “Do you think we’ll be good parents?”

“Da. We’ll figure it out as we go. Most people do.”

The ankle monitor catches against the couch cushion as he shifts position, a reminder that our freedom is still conditional and our future still depends on forces beyond our control, but for the first time in months, those forces seem aligned with our interests rather than working against them.

Sleep threatens to claim me despite the uncomfortable couch and the fluorescent lights that never seem to dim in this facility. The exhaustion of pregnancy combined with emotional relief creates a powerful need for rest that my body can’t ignore much longer. I want to tell him again that I love him, but consciousness slips away before I can form the words, and I fall asleep against his shoulder while his hand rests protectively over the place where our child grows.

28

Yefrem

The drive to Chincoteague Island takes us through countryside that gradually shifts from suburban Maryland, where we’re currently staying courtesy of the government, to the wild beauty of Virginia’s Eastern Shore. Celia sits beside me in the passenger seat, one hand resting on the slight swell of her belly while the other traces patterns on the window glass. At twelve weeks pregnant, she’s developed the kind of luminous glow that makes me catch my breath when I look at her sideways.

The ankle monitor around my left leg serves as a constant reminder that our freedom remains conditional, but Patricia Hendricks personally approved this three-day getaway after weeks of depositions and evidence review once I confided in her my purpose for the trip. There are no surveillance or handlers, just the two of us finally able to breathe without federal agents monitoring our every conversation.

Celia adjusts her position in the seat, accommodating the subtle changes pregnancy has brought to her body. “I can’t remember the last time I saw wild ponies. My father used to tell me stories about them when I was little.”

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