Page 264 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I see myself relinquishing control over to Budimir, whether he deserves it or not.

I see myself living somewhere quiet and peaceful, where our children can grow up safe and normal, untouched by the violence and loss that has plagued both of us our entire lives.

I lean into the image, truly tasting it for the first time and not turning away in shame.

“Esme,” I whisper, just because I want to.

She smiles. “He’s saying hi to his papa.”

Papa.

“It feels impossible,” I say. “I know there’s a baby inside of you, but it just became real.”

Esme laughs, obviously amused by how amazed I am. “You’ve never felt a baby kick before?” she asks.

The moment the words are out of her mouth, the smile slides off her face.

“Oh, Artem, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

I grab her hand and pull her to me.

“Don’t be sorry,” I console, settling her into the crook of my arm so that I can keep my hand on her belly and still see her face. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t think. It was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

“I think I can talk about it now,” I reply. “I haven’t been able to say that before.”

She nods, waiting patiently for me to say whatever it is I want to.

“I never felt the baby kick with Marisha,” I tell her. “I suppose it was too early. Or else, she just didn’t tell me. Now that I think about it, maybe she didn’t tell me.”

Esme frowns. “Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

I sigh, remembering the days leading up to her death. We hadn’t exactly been the happiest couple, but I’d been trying.

At least, as much as I was capable of trying at that point.

“She was upset with me,” I answer slowly. “She was…”

I trail off. Old fights resurface and plunge me into a past that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me anymore.

“She was worried about the Bratva life for her baby?” Esme offers.

I shift uncomfortably, my hand stilling over her stomach.

Of course Esme would assume that was why Marisha had been upset with me. She was assuming that Marisha had felt the same way she did right now.

“No,” I say. “Marisha knew who I was. She accepted that the Bratva was my life.”

Esme’s eyes dim a little with that. A flicker of hurt passes across her face.

I hadn’t meant it to sound like an accusation, but I realize now that that’s exactly how it sounded.

I squeeze her hand hard in mine.

“She was a different woman, Esme,” I say.

“She was braver than I am, then.”

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