Page 160 of Royal Bargain
I blink. “You threatened Ingrid with Anatoly?”
“No,” Ana says primly. “I mentioned Anatoly. Very gently. And then asked if she might have someone else more aligned with my artistic vision. Like… one of her other producers. Someone I could feel safe with. She got the message.”
I stare at her, impressed. “You little shark.”
Ana shrugs. “He’s really good. Sebastian. He wants to keep me in control of the sound, the image, the pace. No last-minute gigs, no dressing me like a bottle blonde pop star. Just music. My music.”
“That’s…” I exhale slowly. “That’s amazing, Ana.”
“I know.” She smiles wide, brighter than I’ve seen in weeks. “It feels good. Like I finally pulled one piece of myself out from under someone else’s thumb.”
I nod, shifting Lily in my arms. “One piece down. We’ll get the rest.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and for a second, there’s this quiet understanding between us—this feeling like maybe, just maybe, we’re not drowning anymore.
Her eyes flick to mine, and for a second, there’s this quiet understanding between us—this feeling like maybe, just maybe, we’re not drowning anymore.
Lily squirms in my arms, little fists curling against my chest, and Ana reaches out to brush her hair back gently. Her touch is so soft it makes something in me ache. Not in a painful way—just… full. Like my ribs can’t quite contain everything I’m feeling all at once.
I glance around the apartment. The exposed brick walls, the half-unfinished bookshelf project in the corner, the baby stuff that’s spilled into every inch of my bachelor chaos.
And I say, before I can second-guess it, “This place doesn’t feel right anymore.”
Ana looks at me. “You mean… with Lily?”
“With all of it,” I say. “Us. Her. What we’ve been through. It’s not just that the apartment’s small or not baby-proofed. It’s that it was never meant for this. For family.”
She exhales, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I’ve felt it too. Like we’re cramming a new life into an old shell.”
I shift Lily into one arm and reach for Ana’s hand. “I don’t want to cram anything anymore. I want space. I want room to breathe. For her to grow. For you to feel safe.”
Ana smiles faintly, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. “Do you know what I always wanted?” she asks softly. “When I used to imagine leaving my father’s house? I wanted a home with a backyard. Somewhere with flowers. Somewhere I could sing without worrying who was listening.”
I squeeze her hand. “That’s not just a fantasy. We can make that real.”
“Yeah?” she says, teasing. “You gonna buy me a castle, Brannagan?”
“I was thinking more like a townhouse,” I say with a smirk. “Just outside the city. Big enough for Lily to run wild, quiet enough that we can hear ourselves think. Maybe a porch. A garden, if you want one.”
Her face lights up like a sunrise. “A garden would be perfect.”
I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “We build something that’s ours. Not your father’s. Not my family’s. Just ours.”
Ana nods, a little misty-eyed. “A home.”
I lean in, kiss her temple. “A home.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles over Lily’s back. We sit like that for a long while—no threats, no shadows, no explosions waiting to go off.
Just… the idea of a future.
The music’s softer tonight—lowjazz spilling through gold-accented speakers, velvet lights painting everything in a warm, secret kind of glow.
The Gilded Cage always felt like a mirage to me. Russian-owned but not Russian-controlled. Safe, but only if you understood the rules. And right now, I’m walking into the lion’s den with my shoulders squared and my phone on silent.
Aleksey’s already waiting when I get there. He’s at a corner booth, nursing a whiskey neat, back straight like a soldier waiting for orders. He watches me approach without blinking.
“Brannagan,” he says evenly.
