Page 32 of Sexting My Bratva Boss (Mafia Silver Foxes #1)

I walk through the glass doors of Martynov Global Holdings with a baby on my hip, a nanny trailing behind me, and the same confidence I used to fake—only now it’s real.

Samuil stirs softly, blinking up at me with bleary, gray-hazel eyes.

He’s the spitting image of his father: sharp little brow, furrowed even in sleep, lips pursed like he’s already judging the building’s profit margins.

He’s wearing a tiny cashmere onesie and a look of vague distrust, like he’s already onto the world.

Chrissy gasps when she sees me in the massive foyer. “Audrey! Are you kidding me right now?”

I smile and shift Sam to the other arm so I can accept the full-body hug she barrels into me with. Her hair smells like coconut and ink. It grounds me in something familiar, something good.

“Back in the flesh,” I say. “I figured it was time.”

She leans back and grins at Sam. “And you brought the most important Martynov of all!”

“I figured the future CEO should get a lay of the land.”

Chrissy beams. “Everyone is going to lose their minds. Duscha especially. Did you time it for maximum dramatic effect?”

“Obviously,” I deadpan. Then I touch her shoulder gently, drawing her attention. “Hey, I wanted to ask you… how would you feel about being godmother?”

Her eyes light up, then tear up. She stamps her foot with a broken laugh. “Aud! How can you do this to me at work? Of course. ”

“Good,” I mumble into another hug, this one heartfelt and strong.

Since Sam’s birth, Chrissy has visited a handful of times, and our friendship is even deeper.

There’s a thread that ties us together; the experiences we’ve had in the last year have drawn us together, and I can’t imagine anyone else who would be a better godmother.

Or understand this strange life we’re living, of luxury, love, and vague danger.

The elevator pings softly as we step inside.

The mirrored interior reflects back a version of me that’s almost unrecognizable from the woman I was last year.

My posture’s straighter, my skin glows, and my expression is sharp and soft in equal measure.

Am I carrying a few extra pounds? Hell yeah. Do I care? Hell no.

Motherhood hasn’t dulled me. It’s honed me.

And Konstantin doesn’t seem to mind the extra curves at all.

The elevator opens on the twenty-eighth floor and Chrissy, and I step into the accounting suite like we never left—though I’m careful to pass Sam to Mila, our nanny, who falls into step behind us with quiet deference.

She’s former military, speaks five languages, and carries a diaper bag like it’s loaded with explosives.

Between her, Kashmere, and Lev, I sleep soundly at night knowing our little family is safe.

I keep my gaze ahead, confident, polished.

And then?—

“Miss Wolfe.”

Duscha’s voice cuts through the room like a knife wrapped in frost. Her heels click across the polished floor as she approaches, the ever-present clipboard tucked beneath one arm. Her platinum hair looks dull, twisted into a bun so tight it probably registers its own gravitational pull.

I smile sweetly. “It’s Mrs. Martynov now, actually.”

She stops.

I see it land in her brain—the ring on my finger, the weight of the baby, the fact that I’m not just back , I’m above her now.

That the woman she tried to destroy is standing in the exact spot she tried to claw her way into.

Her mouth opens. Closes. “I wasn’t informed?—”

“No, I imagine you weren’t.” I gesture casually. “Don’t worry. You’ll be kept in the loop. As long as you keep your nose out of the wrong ledgers.”

Duscha stiffens.

Chrissy watches the whole exchange with a look of pure glee. A second later, the internal line at the front desk buzzes.

“Mrs. Martynov,” Olena’s voice says. “Mr. Martynov would like to see you in his office. Bring Samuil.”

Chrissy winks at me. “Show him what he’s missing, baby.”

I grin and nod to Mila, who hands Sam back with the care of someone passing a crown jewel.

Time to make an entrance.

Konstantin’s office is the same.

But he’s not.

There’s a softness to him now that no one dares speak about—a warmth reserved for me, and now for the baby cradled in my arms. That ruthless edge hasn’t dulled, not in the slightest, but it’s wrapped in velvet now. In power that doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

He stands when we enter, pushing back from the massive desk like he’s been waiting all morning just to see us. I barely close the door before he’s across the room.

“You’re late,” he murmurs.

He kisses me slowly, reverently, one hand sliding into my hair. The other settles over Sam’s small back. When he pulls away, he’s smiling—and only I ever get to see this version of him: the man who never stops loving, even when he’s terrifying the rest of the city into submission.

“Duscha looked like she was going to implode,” I add.

“She’ll survive.”

“She tried to ruin me.”

Konstantin’s mouth twitches. “And instead, she gave me everything I wanted.”

That makes me laugh, low and real.

He leans down, brushes a kiss to Sam’s head, and whispers in Russian. Sam responds with a soft grunt, tiny fists curling like he’s preparing to challenge God.

“He’s a Martynov,” Konstantin says proudly.

“He has your scowl.”

“And your eyes.”

I walk to the window while he watches, adjusting Sam’s blanket. The city stretches out before us, distant and glittering. Everything feels sharp and full. This life is nothing I imagined—and somehow, more than I ever dared hope for.

“He’s scheduled for feeding at noon,” I say absently. “And then a nap.”

“I’ll reschedule my meeting,” he murmurs behind me.

When I turn, he’s watching us like we’re something holy.

I feel the heat of his gaze slide down my body, slow and hungry.

“You wore that dress on purpose,” he says.

“It’s my first day back. I wanted to set the tone.”

He’s quiet a moment, then says softly, “It’s hard to watch you walk back into this place. Not because I’m angry. But because I’m afraid of what the world might try to take from me.”

“You’ve already made me untouchable,” I remind him. “Everyone knows. And everyone’s scared of you. Or trying to be friends. Fia invited us to dinner this weekend.”

“Mmm… tell her we’ll consider it.”

I roll my eyes, giving him a smirk, and walk back over to settle Sam into the bassinet near the window—one of Konstantin’s personal additions to the office. It’s sleek, dark gray, and cost more than my first car. “I already told her yes.”

For a few minutes, we’re quiet as Sam settles in. It’s times like these that Lev is indispensable; he makes the perfect, killer babysitter, and Konstantin and I have learned from him.

“Thank you,” I say softly, turning toward my husband.

He frowns. “For what?”

“For letting me come back. For trusting me. For treating me like I’m still my own person.”

He closes the space between us and takes my chin between two fingers.

“I don’t let you do anything,” he says, voice low. “You are my wife. The mother of my child. And you’ve earned your place in this empire. Don’t forget that.”

Hearing it is a balm.

He releases my chin and circles behind me, pressing his body to mine. I feel the heat of him through the silk of my dress, the steady hum of his breath at the base of my neck.

“When we get home,” he says, voice like silk and sin, “we’re going to celebrate your return.”

“Oh? How?”

“I’m going to undress you slowly. Kiss every inch of your skin. Remind you who you belong to. And then I’m going to fuck you so well you forget what numbers are.”

My breath catches, and a laugh tumbles out.

“Maybe I want to remember numbers,” I tease. “I did just start back at work. Don’t forget—you need me, Konstantin.”

He laughs against my throat.

“Don’t I know it.”

A small sound gurgles from the bassinet, and we both turn instantly. Sam stirs, eyes cracking open, looking around like he’s already plotting how to buy out his rivals’ shares before snack time.

Konstantin walks over and picks him up with startling ease.

“You’re getting heavy, little wolf,” he murmurs, adjusting Sam in one arm. “Your mother keeps feeding you like you’re training for war.”

I lean against the window, watching them.

This is my life now.

This man.

This child.

This place.

I’m not afraid anymore. I know who I am now, and I know what I’ve survived. I’ve walked through hell in heels and came out holding the hand of the devil who chose me over the world.

Sam coos softly, one chubby fist reaching toward my face. I press a kiss to his knuckles. Then another to Konstantin’s lips.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper.

He grins.

“Yes, malen’kiy volk . Let’s go home.”

What to read next? You’ll love Sin & Secrets: A Forced Proximity Mafia Romance , Rocco and Cas’s story is just a click away.