Page 79 of Her Darkest Possession

His hand feels warm against my skin as he continues to offer me food. With each bite, my appetite grows stronger, the nausea at the back of my throat begins fading into the background. My baby—our baby—seems content now, like they know their father has come home.

And as long as their father is here with us, nothing will ever be able to hurt us.

When Anatoly scoops the final spoonful of mashed potatoes and guides it to my mouth, I turn to look at him fully. His blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else disappears to leave us in this tiny stolen moment of peace.

He watches as I swallow the last bite, then cups my cheek with his palm, thumbing away a smear of mashed potatoes from my lips.

There's a newfound intensity in his eyes that sets my blood burning and my heart drumming in my ear.

His hand moves from my cheek to cup the back of my neck, thumb tracing small circles to send shivers down my spine. I know he's feeling the same desire that's coursing through me.

But there's something else in his gaze too—something tender and questioning—that makes me pause.

"Have you thought about names yet?" Anatoly asks, his voice low and serious. "For our baby?"

The question breaks through the haze of desire for just a moment.

"No," I admit, shaking my head slightly. "I haven't been able to. Have you?"

"Not a fucking clue," he says with a small laugh, his chest rumbling against my back.

I tilt my head, curious now. "Would you want a Russian name? Something from your family?"

Anatoly's expression shifts slightly, and I feel my heart sink a little. Of course there would be expectations. Protocol. Rules about what a Baryshev child should be named.

"Protocol would dictate a Russian name," he says slowly, confirming my fears.

But then his eyes soften, and he cups my face between both hands.

"Fuck protocol," he says firmly. "I want to know what you think."

I feel warmth spreading through me at his words, and I pause to let my mind wander as I consider a choice. But I keep coming up empty.

"You're kind of putting me on the spot right now," I say. "Hard to think of a choice off the top of my head."

"Just think of something," he replies. "Anything, really. First thing that comes to mind. It'll be there for a reason."

"Well," I start. "My favorite book in college wasOliver Twist."

A smile tugs his lips up. "Oliver Twist? Really?"

"What's wrong with that?" I ask, feeling slightly defensive.

"Nothing," he says, squeezing my hand. "I just find it funny that the first thing that comes to mind is a book about an orphan boy who gets caught up with criminals."

"The story really spoke to me," I explain. "Even before I became an orphan."

"And before you married a criminal?" he asks gently.

I can't help but laugh. "Yes, even before I married a criminal."

"Oliver is a good name." His expression softens as he considers it. "And if we have a girl, Olivia is good choice too."

"It is," I agree, covering his hand with mine. "I like both of those."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment before I continue, "You know, in the end of the story, Oliver gets adopted. He finds a real home."

I notice Anatoly's brow furrow slightly, his expression turning pensive.