Page 104 of Debt to the Mafia King
I’d let that slide, because he was right. I did need to get it together.
“One more push, Leah, and it will all be done.”
A wail split the air, high-pitched and needy, and the doctor placed a small wiggling thing on her stomach.
Instinctively, Leah reached down for it.
“Oh,” she cried.
“Congratulations.” The doctor beamed at both of us. “You have a son.”
A son. I had a son. Frozen to the spot, I stared down at him for a second before he was covered in a towel. It covered him from shoulder to toe.
“He’s beautiful,” Leah sounded dreamy. Reaching down, she ran her finger over the little red cheek. The look on her face was content.
I was guessing the look on mine was panic. I had a son.
She had given me that beautiful dark-haired little boy with his tiny fists and dark blue eyes.
“Yeah.” Why couldn’t I get the words out? Why couldn’t I move?”
“Would you like to cut the cord?”
I shook myself at his words, glancing up at Leah, and waiting for her permission.
She nodded once, “If you would like to do that?”
“Yeah.” I reached for the small scissors as the cord was clamped. “Yeah, I would like to do that.”
I couldn’t stop looking at them both. My wife and my child.
I’d never really wanted either of those things before I had met Leah, and now, I wasn’t sure I could let them go again, even if it was for the best.
“You don’t have to stay with us.” Cradling my son in her arms, she kept smiling. “Ivan and the doctor are making arrangements, and Dion is outside. He will look after us,” Leah’s voice broke. “I know you don’t want to be here.”
I scraped the chair back and padded over to perch on the edge of the bed. “There is no place I would rather be, Printsessa.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Because that’s what you are to me. My princess. My woman.” Staring down into my son’s blue eyes did something to me. I loved him explicitly.
But when I looked into Leah’s eyes, it felt like I was in free fall. Everything about her was unpredictable, everything apart from my love for her. That would never change.
“He’s perfect, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, he’s perfect. He looks just like you,” she added.
I smiled. “I think he has your eyes. Kind eyes. Did you have a name picked out?” Reaching down, I held my breath as my son curled his tiny fist around my finger.
She shook her head, watching us. “Not really, I like the name Nikolai,” we said at the exact same time.
I glanced at her in shock. “How did you know?”
“He looks like a Nikolai, don’t you think? Nico for short.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. I wasn’t sure about Nico, but she could shorten his name towhatever she wanted to as long as she agreed to what I was about to ask her.
“What happens now, Viktor?” she asked in a quiet voice.
