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Chapter Six

ERIN

Three years later

Sasha glares at me, tiger eyes bright with unshed tears and a bullish expression, a thunderstorm on his face.

“No, Mama!” He puffs out air.

I run a hand over his soft brown hair and he sniffles. “Yes, baby,” I say. “Mama’s got some things to do.” I don’t say party. He’ll think of cake, balloons, jumping castles.

“No, Mama!” he says again.

I kiss his silky cheek, still round with baby fat, and breathe in that powdery, warm little boy scent of his. “I’ll be back when you wake in the morning. And guess what?”

Suspicion lights up his gaze.

“Aunt Kara’s gonna be here with you. So if you’re good, she’ll read to you.”

The tears dry as his gaze sparks to the door, and a smile brightens up his face. “Kara.”

She’s standing there, and she waves to him, then holds up The Adventures of Baby Pig picture book, his favorite. “I’ll be right back, Sasha. Going to see what snacks we have.”

“Snacks!” he says, clearly dismissing me, and I follow my friend out.

I pat her on the arm in the small kitchen. “You know how to get him.”

“Yeah, me and the kid, we’re snackin’ buds,” she says with a laugh.

“You’re a sucker.”

She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for the amber eyes on that kid.”

“Tiger eyes.”

“They’re like yours, but hold ice. He’s gonna break hearts when he hits kindergarten.”

“He’s two.”

“They start young, Erin. Why are you still here? Go!” She shoos me like a fly.

I hover and dither in the hall but Kara’s right there, so I can’t go back in and check on Sasha; maybe climb on the bed and read to him and have Kara feed us snacks. But she knows me too well and she just blocks the way, one hand holding my wrap, the other my car keys.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.” I smooth my hands down the red of the dress. “What if?—”

“Hate to break it to you, but he’s got me. Go have fun.”

“I haven’t seen Max in ages,” I whisper, “so…”

“It’s a wedding, woman.” Kara jingles the keys. “Go. Now.” A wicked grin crosses her face. “Or I’ll be forced to fill your purse with condoms.”

“You wouldn’t.” But she would until bursting, so if I even thought about opening it, bam, a condom avalanche.

“Flavored and glow-in-the-dark ones.” Then Kara relents. “Go, Erin, it’s your night off.”

“I know. I just feel guilty. ”

“Don’t.”

I bite back a sigh. “But Kara, I never go out and leave him?—”

“Exactly. Go. Have fun. I put a fun hat in your bag, just in case.” She winks at me lewdly and heat flares through me.

She hands me my wrap and my keys. I pull on the soft black cashmere and pick up my bag, shoving my keys in. Of course, she put a condom in there. “Thanks for this, really.”

“Nonsense. I love Sasha to pieces and I’m here anytime, any excuse. Go make the most of your night off. Use the condom. I mean, when was the last time you had sex, anyway?”

I roll my eyes. “None of your business.”

And it’s time to go. I check myself in the mirror in the hall, lipstick on straight, blonde hair pinned nicely, so there’s no reason to hang around. I don’t want to be late.

She follows me out to my car and yells, “Pretty sure it was the night Sasha was conceived!”

Goddamn Kara, anyway. I bite down on my grin and give her the finger without looking back, then I get in the car.

As I drive off, I try to settle the dancing butterflies in my stomach. Kara’s right.

That one-night stand was the last time I had sex. Phenomenal sex, but sex with consequences. One I wouldn’t ever change. I can’t imagine my life without Sasha.

But apart from a difficult life of being a single mom, from having to quit my job and put my dreams on hold—now I office temp at various places, I started with real estate and now I’m temping in the property development arena, fitting it all around Sasha—I don’t have room for a relationship. And one-night stands?

Not my thing, never have been, and that hasn’t changed. I haven’t suddenly become a woman of the world in that arena .

Who’d blame me after getting knocked up with that first one?

Besides, being pregnant and then a single mother isn’t exactly a turn-on for men. And those who’ve shown interest backed the hell out when I told them I have a kid.

After I pull up at the swank wedding venue and the valet takes my car, I head in. I probably should have timed it for the nuptials, but they’re doing drinks first and then the wedding, which is nice.

Max is on the other side of the room, talking to a distinguished gentleman and looking every inch the handsome groom in his tux. He sees me, grins, and waves. I wave back, happy for him.

A waiter offers a tray of lightly pink champagne, and I take it. The first sip is like magic and the pink must be from some kind of juice I can’t place but elevates the bubbly.

“How do you know the bride and groom?” a man asks me when he narrowly avoids bumping into me. He’s double-fisting the champagne.

I don’t know him. I don’t know a soul here apart from Max and his fiancée, whom I’ve met once. “I went to college with Max; we’re good friends. I met Alina once, but she’s perfect for him.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she?” He looks past me and nods. “My wife wants her drink. Enjoy the wedding.”

I take my drink and walk around, making small talk when someone engages Max in conversation. My aim is to see Max, but somehow, I don’t think that’s happening until after the wedding. There are too many people, important-looking men, talking to him.

Max was my best friend during my college years and life happened and we drifted apart, he moving to another state, and me… well, me throwing myself into work and then mo therhood. But we talk on the phone every few months and chat here and there during the day over various apps.

I still remember the thrill of happiness that lit me up when he told me he’d met someone. I heard it in his voice. She was the one. And Max deserved that. He proposed to his girl, who said yes, and when I met Alina, she looked at him like he was the universe.

Max deserves all the happiness in the world and so does she. Though I only met her once, we hit it off, and it was so clear she was sweet, charming, and smart.

My glass is empty, and I don’t see the bride-to-be. Max is still caught up in conversation. He throws me an apologetic look, but I just grin and make my way through the swathes of guests I don’t know to the bar.

Maybe this time I’ll have a Manhattan. Why not? It’s been ages since I had a real cocktail. And one won’t hurt. But, of course, three years of being responsible lands me ordering a white wine.

I take it and turn and almost run into a man.

Every nerve in me sparks and fizzes. Awareness spreads through me, low, throbbing, invasive, and I slowly look up over the immaculate suit in black with the pale-gray silk shirt and the black tie.

In the breast pocket is a creamy rosebud.

He’s broad and tall and I can’t breathe, and I know.

I know before I meet his ice-blue eyes who it is.

My one-night stand from three years ago.

How the hell have I forgotten how gorgeous this man is? Or is it that he’s better-looking than before? A sprinkle of gray peppers his hair, and he’s leaner in the cheeks, but oh Lord, he’s sexier than ever.

Him. Sasha’s father. The man who gave me the best damn night of my life.

I struggle to breathe.

His eyes lock on mine as I tell my feet to move .

And recognition passes darkly through them.

Without a word, he slides his hand around my arm and leads me to a quiet corner where artfully displayed tall, manicured rosebushes sit in tubs.

My pulse is haywire as his touch burns. It isn’t tight. I could pull away, so why the hell am I going with him?

Shock.

Bemusement.

Some kind of latent lust?

Fuck.

He gently pushes me against the wall and lets me go. Then his gaze moves over me, taking his time.

We’re not alone, but he makes me feel that way, and I’m pinned to the wall, a butterfly on display, unable to escape, there for his eyes, his enjoyment.

I swallow, hard.

“What a coincidence,” he says, that low, deep voice, one I’ve dreamed of, sliding through me. “You here at this wedding. And knowing nobody.”

I’m about to correct him, but suddenly I narrow my eyes. “By coincidence, do you mean anything but?”

“You know what they say, if the shoe fits…”

Anger bubbles hot and wild inside. How long has he been watching me here?

“Are you honestly trying to suggest I came looking for you?” I shove at him with my free hand, but he doesn’t move.

“You think after three years I hunted you down here? We had a one-night stand three years ago. Sure, the sex was good, but not: I’m still trying to hunt you down three years later good. ”

I’m lying to him. It was that good. But in all honesty, he could be the king of orgasms, and I wouldn’t want to tangle with him. I don’t want to tangle with anyone. I’ve been actively trying to avoid tangles. Hair, clothes, men, relationships. All of them .

“Says the woman, going on about how long it’s been. Why are you here?”

I open my mouth and close it again.

This is not a good man. I know that. When I found out I was pregnant, I tried to find him, not to do anything other than let him know, and do the right thing. If he wanted to see his kid, he could, but I wasn’t asking for anything from him.

But he registered under a fake name. So Tom, my half brother, tracked him down and he told me this man is not someone I want to mess with.

The takeaway is I don’t think he knows he’s father to a two-year-old. And while Tom wouldn’t tell me details, he felt the need to repeat I was to stay away from him. Stay the fuck away were his exact words.

“It’s not your business,” I say as politely as I can manage. “So if you don’t mind…”

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge when I push him again and I drop my hand to my side rather than continue to touch him.

“I mind.”

“Please,” I say, vowing to protect my child from this man. The layer of charm’s gone and I can see the hardness in him, one that could easily turn to brutishness. “We don’t know each other. One night was a long time ago. I barely remember.”

His smile is swift, devastating. “Really? Why are you here? Hmm? What is it you want? Who sent you? You don’t just turn up at a wedding not knowing anyone without an agenda.”

Something snaps in me. “You’re being paranoid. I’m a guest. I’m a good friend of the groom, if you must know. So, sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not stalking you and no secret organization sent me after you. I’m here for Max. That’s it. ”

“Did your homework, I see.”

“Not homework.” I push out as he eyes me with suspicion. “A guest.”

“And I’m not buying it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Good, because you’re a shit liar.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I barely remember you.” I stop myself saying I regret doing anything with him because then I wouldn’t have my Sasha, but honestly… “So, can you get your paranoid ass out of my way?”

I don’t wait. This time, I push hard, knowing he won’t budge, and then I dart to the left of him.

“I’m not done,” he growls.

Panic pushes at me, because I remember the suite, the money it had to have cost. And he looks even richer.

The suit itself is clearly made for him and it’s gorgeous.

This is a man who could take my baby from me.

I try to gauge the situation. I need to get the fuck out of here and leave the moment the wedding’s over.

It won’t take much to ask Max not to say a word about me or Sasha to anyone. And surely this guy won’t bother the groom today.

But one look at him tells me he would.

I just need to get out of here.

I’m not done? Fuck that.

“I am,” I say. “So back the hell off.”

He lets me take three steps. Three. And then he has my arm. This time the grip is hard, and he pulls me in and pushes me into the wall, harder this time, and he moves in, pinning me there.

His mouth is a breath from mine. “No one walks away from me. Especially not you, Lyubimaya. ”