Page 26

I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but when I opened my eyes, the air carried a fragrant sweetness. As I turned my head, I realized why. The room was filled with flowers—dozens of them, arranged in elegant vases and spilling across every surface.

There were sunflowers, their bright yellow faces almost glowing in the light, mixed with delicate pink roses and clusters of white lilies. Daisies sat cheerfully in a small pot near the window, while a cascade of purple orchids draped gracefully from a tall vase. The scent was intoxicating, a blend of floral notes that seemed to brighten even the sterile hospital air.

On the bedside table, a colorful fruit basket caught my eye. It was overflowing with fresh grapes, shiny red apples, bananas, and plump strawberries. There was even a small jar of honey nestled among the fruit.

I let my head sink back into the pillow, the warmth of the moment wrapping around me like a soft blanket. Taking in the sea of flowers and the thoughtful fruit basket by my side, I couldn’t help but wonder who could have sent such a beautiful display. It felt intimate, personal, yet unexpected.

My mind raced through possibilities, even including Jayden on the list, though that was highly unlikely, considering we’d not been in touch for about a month. The last time we talked, he was somewhere in Brazil, doing God-knows-what.

My gaze drifted to the corner of the room—and then my thoughts paused like a train on tracks.

Seated on a chair partially shrouded in shadows was Timur. His broad shoulders slouched slightly, his usual commanding posture softened in a way I only saw at night when he slept peacefully beside me. The dim light played across his rugged features, making him appear both formidable and tender. But what truly stole my breath was the tiny bundle resting against his chest.

Our baby.

Swaddled snugly in a pale blue blanket, our newborn lay nestled against Timur, his tiny fists curled near his cherubic face. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his innocence contrasting so profoundly with the man holding him. Timur’s hand, large and calloused, rested protectively over the baby’s back as if shielding him from the world.

The sight melted something deep inside me. A lump formed in my throat, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. My heart felt like it might burst, overwhelmed with gratitude and love.

I must have made a sound because Timur glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine. A faint smile curved his lips. “Are you crying?”

I didn’t think I was, but I didn’t bother denying it. “You guys look so cute together.”

“And that’s why you’re crying?”

I laughed, watching him gently rise to his feet and carry our baby to the bassinet beside my bed. He looked so handsome, my husband. Every angle of his sculpted body looked perfect, and I couldn’t believe every inch of him was mine.

“The flowers are beautiful. Do you know who sent them and the fruits, too?”

“Arlo and Rafayel. Couldn’t wait long outside. They had something to take care of.”

I gaped, trying to imagine the strong, fearsome men walking through the hospital corridors with vases of flowers and fruit baskets. “That’s so sweet of them.”

Timur didn’t say anything, just released a weird chuckle. He tucked our son in, allowing his finger to linger under his tiny chin before he looked up at me. “He’s so fucking perfect. Like his mother.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I had to force myself to breathe. But to do that, I first had to take my eyes off how perfect he was and let my gaze drift over to our sleeping boy.

“What are we going to name him?”

Timur sat on the edge of my bed and moved his shoulders, his broad back facing me. “I haven’t thought of it. But I’ve always liked Matvey. When I was younger, my cousin and I faked names at clubs to trip the ladies. Matvey always worked for me.”

I ignored the rest of the statement and focused on the name. “Doesn’t sound bad. What does it mean?”

“Gift from God.”

I blinked. “You believe in the big man upstairs? Shocking.”

He laughed, and the sound thrilled me. “What I believe is that you and that boy right there are good gifts I don’t deserve, no matter how twisted the situation and fucked up our situation is.”

He'd left me utterly speechless, and I struggled to find words. “Um…is there…uh…is there any other name you have in mind? I can’t think of anything else.”

“Vladimir.”

“And that means?”

“Ruler of the world.”

“Interesting. I like that, Vlad. Vladimir. Vladimir Yezhov, my bundle of sunshine.”

“Yes.” He shifted on the bed, scooting closer while peering into my eyes. “But not as interesting as the content of your journal.”

It took me a minute to adjust before being able to interpret the meaning behind his words, and when I did, that lump in my throat returned. If I thought I couldn’t speak before but still managed some words, now he’d successfully rendered me speechless.

While I still tried to come up with a defense, he produced the glittering purple hard-back—I didn’t see where he’d sprung it out from—and waved it in my face. “Klavdia handed this to me. This, and your phone. She said she’d picked them up, thinking you had things of importance written inside in expectation of the baby. So, I went through it. While that was true, about preparing for our baby, I didn’t expect to see my name plastered on almost every page.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, and the oxygen level was dropping rapidly. “I can explain.”

Really? Could I really explain anything I’d written into that book?

I wasn’t sure I could, but I didn’t want to risk blurting out my feelings and watching him close in and walk away from me. I knew without a doubt that my heart wouldn’t be able to bear it. I couldn’t lose him.

“ This gift he gave me, the diamond bracelet. The cool metal against my skin is a stark contrast to the warmth that spreads through my chest every time I think of him. ”

He was repeating some of the words from memory, and never before had I felt so exposed.

“ It is more than butterflies in my stomach or the racing of my heart when he is near, though those things happen, too. It is deeper, rooted in the way he looks at me like I am more important to him than I think I am, even when he tries to hide it. It is in the way he protects me, fiercely, without hesitation. ”

“Timur….”

“You’d make a great writer.”

He handed the book to me, and my tears dropped on the hardback. I could tell that surprised him.

“You’re crying again.”

For real, this time, I was. Maybe it was just the hormones or reasons I was no longer comfortable keeping all bottled inside. “What do you think of me, really? It’s one of the questions I’ve struggled to answer by myself. The only sad part is that I can’t. I can’t answer that question; no one else can but you. Am I just a housewife or a baby-making machine that’ll sit back at home and do nothing while waiting all night for you to return from work? Is that it? Or is there even the slightest chance that there could be something more?”

Silence enveloped us, and he just looked at me.

I knew I’d pushed hard, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. If he never brought up the journal, there would have been no reason to have this conversation.

If I’d never written any of that….

Sighing, I turned away from him, realizing that, in the end, I was the problem. Now, I’d made the mistake of spewing the contents of my heart and forced him to retreat into his—

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I obeyed, and he barely gave me time to brace for impact before ambushing me with his lips. I moaned like a greedy little animal, reacting instantly by sliding my fingers over his head. Short hair brushed my palm before I found the base of his neck, pulling him closer.

It felt like a lifetime since I’d tasted his lips on mine.

His mouth was as desperate as mine, hungrier than mine. He shut his eyes and grabbed my throat, deepening our kiss. He was so beautiful to look at that it hurt. I shut my eyes, allowing myself to drown in this surprise attack’s thrilling feeling.

As swiftly as he’d claimed me, he pulled back, dazed and not as guarded as he always was.

“You…” he breathed against my lips and pecked me, “are going to be the fucking death of me, Serena Yezhov.”

My heart swelled just by looking at him and admiring the wide smile on his lips that seemed brighter than the sun ever shone. “Timur, I—”

“Shut up, woman. Don’t steal the spotlight. I let you have your chance.” He kissed my forehead and put some more distance between us, which was probably the wisest thing to do because I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop kissing him.

“You revived in me something I thought had died a long time ago: the ability to love. I mean, it’s always been there. I know this because Rafa can be a thorn in the fucking side, but I’d easily kill anyone that wants to kill him before I do.”

He kissed the corner of my lips, murmuring, “ What I feel for him is nothing like the love I have ever known before. It is not partial, or silent, or simple. Just…consuming. And that’s the same for me. What I feel for you drives me crazy, my little bee. I love you.”

Smiling, another teardrop spilled down my cheek, and he kissed it away.

“I love you, too, Timur.”

I didn’t have to ask; he gave me what I wanted from the beginning: another big kiss on the lips. And another, until the soft coos of Vladimir made him grudgingly spring apart and lift our son into my arms.

My heart threatened to burst from intense satisfaction and happiness as I held my world in my arms and leaned into his side.

This was our family, our future. And despite everything I’d faced at the hands of this man of midnight and ice, I felt certain that I had everything I’d ever need right here in this room.