Page 38 of Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet 2)

She gives me a small, sad smile, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. So, I grab her hand and bring it to my chest, letting her feel my heard beating beneath my ribs. Letting her know I mean every word.

“You are my queen, Molly. I know you find it difficult in these situations, but it is only because you have spent so long fighting. You know what it means to struggle, which makes you stronger than any of the silver-spoon women you are going to talk with tonight.” I bring her hand to my lips and press a kiss to the center of her palm. “Plus, I’ll be with you every step of the way. Right by your side.”

Molly’s lashes flutter closed, and she nods. “I know. I know you’ll make sure nothing happens to me, but I’m just … scared. I’m so scared. For myself, but mostly for Theo and our baby. It makes it hard to leave the house.”

I drop her hand and slide mine to the front of her hoodie. To the place where our child is growing inside of her. “I’ll protect all of you.”

It is too soon to feel any kicks or movement, but a warmth seems to radiate from her center, and I find myself drawn to it, desperate to know the child growing there.

I can’t let her walk away with my baby.

The answer to the question I’ve been asking myself rises in my mind, and I yank my hand away quickly.

Emotional attachments are dangerous. They clutter my mind and muddy my thinking.

If I want to keep my family safe, I have to stay cold. Unaffected.

When Fedor is gone and no longer a threat, I can think about this. But right now, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters until I know they will all be safe.

I stand up and straighten my jacket. “I’ll let you get dressed.”

Molly looks confused, but I see her stand up and move towards the dress just before I shut the door and walk back downstairs. Hannah is smart enough to know she shouldn’t be lingering in the living room. Wherever she is, I hope she stays there. I don’t trust her.

* * *

Molly’s silverdress is simple, but sexy.

The neckline plunges across her chest and snaps around the back of her neck, leaving her back exposed down to her waist. I lay my hand on her lower back as we walk to the car, and it’s physically difficult to release her. I’ll have to fight the urge to touch her all night.

“Are you nervous?” Molly asks.

The question pulls me from my thoughts—mostly thoughts of touching all of her exposed skin—and I realize my fingers are digging into my knees hard enough my knuckles are white.

I loosen my grip. “No.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “You’ve looked a little nauseous ever since I walked downstairs. Are you sure you aren’t the one who is pregnant?”

We are separated from the driver with a soundproof sheet of glass, but I still turn to Molly with a warning in my eyes. No one else should know about her condition … not yet.

“He can’t hear us,” she says a little louder, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth up. She leans forward and cups a hand around her mouth, directing her words towards the divider. “Take the next right.”

The car continues moving straight and steady. No deviation whatsoever.

“Go back to the apartment. I forgot my panties!”

This time, I reach across the seat and lay a hand over her mouth, though I can barely keep the smile from my own face. “What is wrong with you? Weren’t you nervous just a few minutes ago? You better not have taken any drugs. You’re pregnant.”

Her eyes go wide. “Are you not supposed to take drugs while you’re pregnant?”

For a brief moment, I think she is being serious. Then, I see the spark of amusement in her eyes and shake my head. “You are bad.”

“And you’re smiling,” she says softly. Her hand lifts like she wants to reach out and touch my face, and I resist the urge to curl against her palm like a cat. Then, she drops it in her lap, her smile dimming slightly, becoming more restrained. “If we both went into tonight nervous, I’d never make it through. You’re supposed to be the one holding me together. So, whatever has you worried, I want to help take care of it.”

“Sorry.” I run my hands through my hair and lean back in my seat. “I’ve been distracted lately.”

It is more than I usually admit to anyone, but I don’t feel vulnerable. Not with Molly. I feel safe.

The realization hits me all at once, and the thought once again arises unbidden in my mind: I can’t let her go. I can’t let them go.

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