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I glance up, surprised by her words. Most women I know—especially in the social circles I perform for—treat motherhood as an inevitable destination, not a choice.
"Really? You don't think every woman should want children?" I ask.
Zoe shakes her head firmly. "God no. We have enough parents in this world who should never have been parents in the first place." Her voice takes on a harder edge. "People who have children because it's expected, or to fix a marriage, or because they want little versions of themselves to control."
The baby stirs in my arms and I adjust my hold instinctively.
"My father wanted a prodigy," I say quietly. "Not a daughter."
"Exactly." Zoe leans forward. "Being a parent means putting someone else's needs before your own. Always. It means loving them for who they are, not who you want them to be." She gestures to her daughter. "I have no idea who she'll become, but I can't wait to find out."
I study Zoe's face, seeing genuine contentment there. Despite being married to one of the most dangerous men in New York, she seems... happy. Secure.
"How did you know?" I ask suddenly. "That you wanted this life? Children with Damiano?"
Zoe laughs softly. "I didn't at first. Our beginning was... complicated. But I fell in love with him, and the rest followed naturally." She pauses, studying me. "Noah is different from Damiano in many ways but they share the same loyalty. The same protective instinct."
I feel my cheeks flush. "Noah and I aren't—I mean, it's not?—"
"It's something," Zoe says gently. "I recognize the look."
I don't know how to respond. What Noah and I have—I can't even define it myself. Captor and captive? Lovers? Something more dangerous than either?
CHAPTER 20
Iwalk into Damiano's office, my fists clenched tight enough that my nails leave half-moons on my palms. Enzo leans against the mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest. Damiano sits behind it, fingers steepled like he's already expecting the bullshit I'm about to say.
"I want Ivan dead," I announce without preamble. "Tonight. I'll handle it myself."
The room goes quiet. Damiano's eyes narrow slightly—the only indication he's even heard me.
"No." One word. Final as a bullet.
"What do you mean 'no'?" I step forward. "He has Jessica. He's coming for Evelyn. We cut the head off the snake now."
Enzo snorts. "And start a fucking war with the entire Russian syndicate? Brilliant plan."
"We're already at war," I snap.
Damiano rises from his chair and something in his movement silences both of us.
"We need to act smart, Noah. Not fast." His voice is measured, controlled. "Ivan has connections throughout Eastern Europe. Kill him without preparation and we'll have the entire Bratva breathing down our necks."
"So we just wait while he?—"
"We locate Jessica first." Damiano cuts me off. "We gather intelligence. We find his vulnerabilities. Then we strike."
I slam my palm against the wall. "There's no time for that shit."
Enzo pushes off the desk, moving toward me. "You've always been brave, Rivera. Reckless, even. But bravery doesn't mean you always win."
"This isn't about winning," I growl.
"No?" Enzo tilts his head. "Then what's it about? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're thinking with your dick instead of your brain."
My hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. "Say that again."
Damiano's voice cracks like a whip. "Enough."