Page 28 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

DEMYAN

I don’t know. I’m still fucking stunned. We drive back from the appointment and I try to find the words, but I can’t. My emotions are mixed, tumbling, and in my pocket is a picture so damn heavy it’s pulling at me.

It’s sitting there, next to the phone where my wallpaper’s now Sasha. Before I just left it factory fresh.

Shit.

I can feel Erin’s gaze on me and her worry stings the air.

But those words don’t come. It’s not fear for the new baby or that it’s more important than Sasha, or even, God forbid, I don’t want it.

“Demyan?” she asks. “I know there’s something. You were distracted when we went in and I buy that you’ve got a lot of work. But not now. You got quieter in there, apart from your very pretty words designed to make me feel better.”

Crap. I grind my teeth, still searching for something soft and palatable to give her from the whirlwind inside me. “It’s all good.”

“No, it isn’t. Or rather, I don’t know what it is,” she mutters.

“Thing is, if we’re going to get married and make it work, then you need to be honest. Good, bad, ugly.

And we’re not always going to like each other.

There’ll be fights. There’ll be times I’m going to be so angry I hate you, but I’ll always love you.

And love only works if we bend with it and have open communication. Talk to me.”

She’s right. Fuck me, is she right. “I don’t know,” I say, still searching. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do. Say it.”

I breathe out. “I’m glad I saw our baby right then and there when it’s so fucking small. But damn it, seeing the ultrasound just reminded me of everything I’ve missed. All that time I lost with Sasha because of your lie.”

My words seem to scream in the air. And they get worse as the silence stretches.

“I could say that you left a fake name, that I didn’t know you and the warning I got… But you’re right. I might not have lied to your face. But I could have ignored my brother’s warning.”

Fuck, I need to invite him to the wedding, too. I slot that in the back of my mind.

And guilt washes over me at what she’s saying.

“I could have tried harder; I could have demanded the details he dug up. But I didn’t, and for that I’m sorry. Sorrier than you could ever know. I’m sorry, but while I can’t change the past, I can promise you’ll miss no more of either of our children’s lives.”

When we walk inside, the house smells good, which means Magda’s cooking even though dinner isn’t for a few hours at least. But Olga is there and she smiles.

“Sasha’s just gone down for his afternoon nap, but he had one earlier so I can get him up if you’d like?”

“No,” Erin says, yawning. “I could go for a nap right now, too. ”

I kiss her forehead. “Go, have one. I’ve got work to do anyway.”

As Olga disappears to do housework, Erin says, “I mean what I said, Demyan.”

“I know.” I ignore the twinge of something that feels like guilt. “Go and nap and I’ll wake you before dinner.”

She nods and starts across the foyer, but I pull her back. “Do you want to invite your brother to the wedding?”

“Can we?” she asks, eyes shining. “He might be too busy, but?—”

“Consider it done.” I kiss her, wanting to make it clear all’s good between us. Then I release her, watching her climb the stairs.

I’m about to head to the converted room for Ilya when I hear him shouting and the nurse comes out of my office. This one is younger, pretty, and looking close to tears. I let her pass as I head there instead.

“You go out without your damn chair, you yell at the pretty nurse and… where’s your wheelchair?”

“I don’t want that thing.”

“Tough. You’ll use it.” I march off and grab it from his room, telling the nurse to take the evening off, full pay, as I go.

I park it next to the sofa in my office, but he ignores it. “I don’t want it. I’m sitting, see?”

“When you need to get around.” I glance at him and then the door. “I’ll change my office lock so you can’t get in next time.”

“How is that a threat, asshole?” he asks. “It’s not. Besides, I can pick locks. Didn’t I teach you?”

“Bad influence,” I mutter. I sit in the wheelchair and whizz back and forth in it, just to annoy him. “How are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m healing much faster than they thought. ”

“Is that a Doctor Ilya thing or a doctor doctor thing?”

He leans forward and switches the chair to manual.

“I had a checkup. And I do use the chair. Just when I was at that bar, I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to look weak. It’s important.

You know that, Demyan.” Then he shakes his head.

“I’ve got a cane to try out, and I’ve been cleared to fly.

I have to take this piece of shit with me, in case I need it. ”

He kicks the chair, narrowly avoiding me.

“That’s great news, Ilya. There wouldn’t be a wedding in Aruba if you weren’t cleared to fly. I’m not getting married without you there, my friend.”

He looks me up and down. “What’s up?”

I pull out my wallet and hand him the picture. “My baby.”

“It’s got your eyes.”

“Nice.” I laugh but then sober up. “It was surreal seeing a part of myself on that screen.”

He holds up the picture. “Oh yeah, I can see that. It’s very… you.”

I snatch the picture back and look at it. “But it was more than that. I was hit by how much I missed of Sasha, and I got… I don’t know… not angry, but that darkness came up. All I lost from her lies.”

He sighs heavily and mutters something not nice about me in Russian that I let slide.

“What?”

“What?” He shakes his head. “What? This again?”

“I told her.”

“Dam—”

“She asked and said we need honesty so I told her and she said she was sorry again, that she didn’t lie to my face, but she was wrong.”

“Of course she said that. Demyan, your father was a cunt, to put it nicely. And you’re not him, but he did things, lied, withheld love because either he wasn’t capable or he liked being cruel. I never liked him. You’re not him, never was, but this grudge? You learned that from him. Unlearn it.”

“I didn’t blame her. I told her how I felt. Right or wrong, it’s how I felt. Feel.”

“Did you say right or wrong? Did you tell her you know she didn’t lie?

I mean, you left the false name, she found out who you were from the viewpoint of what you are.

And she protected Sasha. I’ve seen how she punishes herself.

You’ve made her apologize a lot, Demyan,” he says, motioning to me for a drink.

I get up and pour us a couple of vodkas and I hand him one.

He takes a deep sip. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Apologized to her.”

I frown. “What for, Ilya? I never knew about her being pregnant or giving birth, so I just got reminded of that.”

“Enough for me to know you still hold on to that. Have you apologized for hurting her? What about lying about your name so she couldn’t find you on her own?”

I down my vodka and shove a hand through my hair. “Look?—”

“It goes both ways is all I’m saying.” He shrugs. “Hurt feelings. Deal with yours and let her know she didn’t lie. That she did what anyone outside our world would do. Have your feelings but say they’re not completely rational.”

“Aren’t they?” I know he’s right. I think it’s why I brought this up. I need him to whip me into place. Out of everyone, he knows me… not best, but most honestly. And he’ll give me the brutal honest response. My sister will be diplomatic and, well, my sister. Erin’s too close.

“The girl’s no gold digger. She just wanted her son, one she didn’t know if you even wanted, to grow up safe. And you? I thought you had this sorted already. So what’s the real problem?”

I take a breath. That is the real problem.

And then I stop.

We’ve talked this through. I handle the little waves of loss when they come up so why have I turned it all to the point she asked me for the absolute truth.

And it hits me that I didn’t give it.

What’s the real problem?

“I’m scared. Not all the way because I’m fucking excited and full of hope and love and all the rest. But a big part is scared. I’m scared this happiness will blow up in my face.”

He doesn’t say a word but he manages to push himself up and hobble over to the vodka to refill his glass. He brings the bottle and tops off mine.

I’m about to tell him he shouldn’t be walking but his expression shuts that down.

Ilya wants me to dig deeper.

“I’m scared of what another child means. I’m learning on the go with Sasha. Learning to be a dad. But a toddler and a baby? Fuck, what if I screw up? What if I can’t handle it?”

Ilya claps. “And there we have it.” He smiles. “Demyan, you’re worrying for nothing. You’re an amazing dad already. You’ve got this.”

“Okay. Talk over,” I say because my throat’s getting scratchy. “Let’s work on this thing with Vince…”

Later, I check in on Sasha who’s just waking up.

I tiptoe out but leave the door open because there’s a guard up here and Olga will be by soon.

Besides, I figure I’ll wake up Erin, tell her I don’t think she lied, that I don’t blame her, that I’m just a little scared.

And I know to do that will take a lot of fucking bravery, way more than me looking down the barrel of a gun like I’ve done on more than one occasion.

Shit like that has nothing on this.

But when I walk in, she steals my heart, my breath, and probably years from my life at how fucking hot she looks sleeping.

Christ, I’m not even old and I’m already a pervert. But who’d convict me for finding my fiancée hot and sexy in her disheveled state, the sheets tangled around her.

I lock the door and climb on the bed, right as her eyes flutter and she stirs, opening those pretty blues and looking up at me. She trails a hand over my cheek and down my chest.

“Erin, I’m sorry I said you lied. You didn’t. Things happen. And I’m sorry, too. I’m just… scared.”

“Why? You’re a good man, Demyan.”

I almost laugh at that but I kiss her hand as I capture it and pull it up from my chest.

“And you love Sasha. I’ve never seen him take to someone like he has you. You’re a good father. A little soft…”

The wicked light in her gaze hooks me deep and I kiss her slow, trailing my tongue along her lips, and as they open, I taste her depths, her tongue whispering along mine, sending shivers dancing through me.

I undress, because fuck dinner, it can wait. I pull the covers from her and slip my hand between her thighs as I kiss and suck at her throat, her moans feeding me more than food ever could.

Wet and hot and willing. I part her lips, outer and inner, and push two fingers into her, thrusting as I find that spongy nub inside her tight canal and I rub it each time, my thumb teasing and working her clit.

I’m hard against her as she rocks into me. I’m aching and I kiss down to her tits, biting and sucking each peak .

Soon, they’ll be sensitive to the point I can’t.

And that spurs me on. I don’t care that’s months away; I like the idea of her changing with our child, of certain things being on a timer right now.

And I know I’m going to have to read books to find what she might want or can take after the baby, what level we can go to before the baby when the birth’s close.

Shit, am I going to be jealous when the kid feeds?—

“Oh my God, you’re suckling and it feels so good… What are you thinking about?”

I let the nipple pop free. “Sex. Before and after the baby.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Just working on a game plan.”

“And?” she gasps.

I start to finger fuck her in earnest, building her until she’s almost coming. “I think we’ll be getting as much in as possible beforehand.”

“Fuuuck…” Her body starts to clench and squeeze and I back off. “Good plan and don’t stop.”

I smile at her, biting her lips, and then I kiss her so damn hard my own head spins.

I pull out of her and part her thighs, lining up and thrusting into her deep.

I need her ass soon, I know that. Her ass, her from behind, her mouth.

I need her in all the positions. But this is so good.

I’m slamming into her so fucking deep that my cock is basically saying prayers of thanks for the tight hot sheath it keeps thrusting into.

She feels like home and the most exotic thing. One I know. I tilt my hips so her clit rubs against me and it makes her give strangled moans. And when I force her legs wider, higher, her hips move into that position where I hit the G-spot hard every time.

And fuck, does she squeeze me, like she doesn’t want me out. But it only makes reentry better.

The beat of our fucking has a life of its own, one that fills my blood with thrills and the air with sighs and moans .

I slam into her harder.

“Yes!” she cries. “I’m going to come!”

“Good.”

I let go, my balls tight, cock that good ache and the rush of endorphins comes on a wave of pleasure as she comes, screaming, her body clenching my cock so hard it’s hammering blood in my ears as I come, too.

But the hammering continues.

And a little voice says, “Mama? Dino? I’m hungry. Where you?”