Page 45 of Held By the Bratva

He’s been a doting father from the beginning, and loves nothing more than when I’m pregnant, or when he has a baby to carry when we walk in the garden. The children are strictly forbidden from the maze, and we say it’s because they might get lost. But it’s at least as much because we don’t want them seeing us doing some more baby-making, imaginary or not.

“Then, the blue dragon roared out blue flames. Blllaaaahhhhh!” Brody says, changing voice seamlessly.

I giggle and Brody sees me from the corner of his eye. He gives no visible sign of his split attention as he continues to read, but there’s a smirk that tugs at his mouth.

The kids are almost asleep, watching him with hooded eyes and teddy bears clutched to them.

“Then, the violet dragon roared out violet flames. Vaaaaahhhhh!”

Nine years old tomorrow, our first babies are tucked up in bed. Our other two are six and three, and we have yet to decide on whether we’ll have one more.

“And that is how a rainbow is made.” Brody closes the book with a snap.

“Again,” comes sleepily from one of the kids.

As Brody chuckles softly, and kisses both the twins good night, I think we will have another child. Just to hold on to this sweetness of my husband reading for them a little longer.

He turns off the lamps, checks the nightlight, then herds me out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him with an almost silent click and gathers me into his arms.

“You know,” he says conversationally, “in the Greek tradition, children’s birthdays are a celebration for the mother.”

“Really?” I say, distracted by his closeness. I breathe in the delicious neroli, steel, musk, and sea water scent of him.

“Apparently so. A new Greek mafia acquaintance was telling me. Mothers do all the work, no?”

I snort. I do plenty, yes. But Brody makes it sound like he’s nothing more than the sperm donor, when yesterday he was on his knees playing with the kids.

“If you say so.”

“I have a special present for you, moya koshechka.” My husband blinks at me, smiling his subtle, smug smile that means he has something truly devious planned. “Come to bed and find out what it is.”