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I can barely sleep without him in the bed. I’ve gotten so used to his warm, comforting presence and the way I feel completely, utterly safe in his arms that sleeping alone feels unnatural. The worst part is, I only have myself to blame for this fight.

He’s right, I should’ve told him I was leaving.

I knew he’d worry, panic, even, but I hadn’t wanted to face his questions.

Matvei has a way of looking at me that makes me want to spill my guts, and I don’t know if I could’ve held back from telling him that I’m pregnant.

And there’s no way I’m ready to tell him that.

He’s not the father type, and this marriage is nothing more than a convenience for him—a way of getting what he needs from the Milovs to continue his obsessive fight against the Shevchenko.

There’s no room for a real relationship in his heart; I know that.

All he really cares about is his revenge and carving out a space for the Abashins here in Miami.

A child would only be something else for him to worry about.

And now he’s completely shut me out. That intimacy and tenderness he’d shown while I was in the throes of morning sickness was just a temporary blip, I guess.

I choke back a sudden wash of tears at the thought, remembering how he held me in the bath.

Was that just an act? I know he likes the sex we were having, and maybe that’s all this ever was for him. A means to an end, and sex on the side.

The thought makes me sick. Now I just try to avoid him, which is easy enough in the giant house. All I have is Zephir, and though he’s always there when I need him, I’m still lonely. I wish I had someone to talk to about the pregnancy, someone who could help me figure out what I should do about it.

“Why now?” I say softly to my stomach, rubbing my hands over the skin there. It’s still flat, and I know it’ll be months before I can feel any movement, but I’ve already taken to talking to the child like they can hear me. “Don’t you know this is the worst possible time?”

But it’s not their fault. I was careless, too caught up in the lust I felt for Matvei to think about protection, and now it’s my problem to deal with.

If only things were different. He’s so suspicious that I was plotting something in that brief trip to Ella’s that he won’t even speak to me, and I can’t find any explanation that doesn’t sound hollow to appease him.

Not until I’m ready to tell him the truth, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

When I get a phone call from Ella five days after I saw her, I pick up on the first ring.

“Hey, Ella, what’s up?” I try for a tone of easy nonchalance even though I don’t feel a shred of it.

She knows something is up, obviously, after I ran to her house only for Matvei to appear six hours later, but she doesn’t press. “I just thought you might want to know your family’s coming to town and they’d all love to see you. Do you think you can get away for a day or two?”

Can I? Technically, yes, but I worry it will only make Matvei more suspicious if I leave again so soon, especially with the way things are between us right now. Then again, how much worse can it get? I’m pretty sure he hates me already.

“I’d love that. Think you can pick me up again?”

“Of course. Don’t forget to pack this time. Do you think Matvei will join us?” she asks, carefully.

I don’t think anyone in my family really knows how to handle my newly married status, especially given the circumstances surrounding it. I made it clear to Anton and Ella that this is what I want, to stay married to him, but the tension in the situation is obvious.

“I don’t think so,” I say, trying to sound cheerful and completely unbothered, “he’s really busy right now, and it’s hard for him to get away. You know how they are about all this stuff.”

“I really do,” Ella agrees. “Just you then, but we’re all very excited for it. When should I pick you up?”

“How’s an hour sound?” That’ll give me enough time to break the news to Matvei, and then I can make a quick exit.

“Perfect. See you then.”

I sit staring at my phone for a while after we hang up, trying to figure out how I’m going to phrase this to him when he walks into the living room and stops short, finding me there. Once, I would’ve gone to him without hesitation, and he would’ve held me. Now, I don’t know where I belong.

“That was Ella,” I blurt out, deciding it’s best just to get it over with. “My family’s in town, I guess, and they were wondering if I could come for a day or two just to visit. Then I’d come right back.”

His face darkens, and his mouth thins into a line. “You don’t need my permission, I told you that.”

“But you also told me to tell you before I go, so…” I trail off, feeling like there’s no way to win.

“Thank you for telling me,” he replies, stiffly. “Enjoy yourself.”

He walks out of the room and my eyes well with tears.

I don’t bother trying to stop the flow, curling in on myself while they stream down my cheeks.

Everything is so messed up, and I have no idea how I’ll ever untangle it, if I even can.

Why can’t we just throw all of this aside and go back to how it was not that long ago?

Because I’m keeping secrets from him, I remind myself.

Until I’m honest, he’s going to know I’m hiding something, and there’s no getting around it.

***

“I’ve really missed you,” Ella says, handing me a glass of lemonade later that afternoon. I’m back at her house, waiting for the rest of my family to arrive. “But I know you’re happy where you are, so don’t think I’m trying to guilt you into coming back or anything. That’s Anton’s job.”

We laugh, and it feels like the first smile I’ve had in days. “I’m sure I’ll hear it from him.”

“I made him promise not to.” She sits down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder. “And he knows there will be consequences if he doesn’t keep to it. This is about spending time together, not Bratva agendas. Matvei is your husband, and he just has to accept that.”

“Right,” I reply, wanting to steer the conversation as far away from that particular topic as I can. “How are you liking Miami?”

Really smooth, but Ella lets it slide, giving me a questioning look out of the corner of her eye. “It’s hot as hell, but otherwise, I love it. I keep telling Anton we should move closer to the beach.”

The front door opens, and there’s a barrage of voices all talking at once.

“They’re here!” I cry, getting to my feet and rushing into the front room.

My brothers and their wives drop their bags on the floor while Anton shows them in. Viktor spots me first, throwing his arms wide and pulling me into a tight hug.

“Here’s the newlywed,” he says with a squeeze. “How’s married life?”

“Yes, tell me all about your new husband,” Rigor breaks in, eyes flashing dangerously. “And exactly how you ended up married to him.”

“Come on, not now,” Anton cuts in, and I wonder if he’s actually going to keep his word to Ella this weekend. “Let’s all get settled in and remember, not business talk. You all agreed to keep this light.”

“That’s right,” Ella agrees, “this weekend is for fun only. We’ve missed you guys.”

Roman ruffles my hair and cuts past me into the kitchen, already looking in the fridge. “Fair enough, fair enough. There’ll be time for that later. What’s cooking? Smells good.”

We spend the next hour catching up and eating Anton and Ella’s cooking.

They prepared a feast that could satisfy even my brothers’ appetites, and I stuff myself too, making up for the lack of food over the past week.

Here, surrounded by my family, I can almost forget the problem I’m facing.

I let myself pretend everything is okay, that I’m happily married, and definitely not pregnant.

But in the back of my mind, all I can think about is Matvei.

Will he ever fit in here with my family?

It’s hard to imagine the huge man sitting comfortably among them, laughing and sharing drinks.

He’s so single-minded in his pursuit against the Shevchenkos that I find it hard to believe he’ll ever be happy doing anything else.

When night comes, we head out to a club and take over the majority of it, ordering bottle after bottle to our tables. I hope no one notices all I’m drinking is water, but they seem too caught up in their happiness about being together to pay much mind. If anyone asks, I’ll just pretend it’s vodka.

Ella nudges me in the side. “Look who’s here.”

I look up, and my stomach does a somersault. Matvei. He parts the crowd of the club with ease, and once I spot him, there’s nowhere else I want to look. Dark jeans, a tight shirt that hugs his muscles like I want to, and that permanent scowl on his face that only breaks for me.

“What? I didn’t invite him,” I say, anxiety choking my words. I don’t want to fight with him here in front of my family. I don’t want to fight with him at all. I just want things back the way they were.

“We did,” Anton says, leaning over. “He’s your husband, and I might not like the guy, but it seems like he’s going to be part of the family.”

“And I told Anton he had to,” Ella says with a laugh. “He wasn’t sure if he should, but we insisted.”

He’s ten feet away. Five. Two. I get to my feet in a daze and swallow the lump in my throat.

“Anya,” he says by way of greeting, eyes locked on mine. “And the Milovs.”

He nods at my gathered family, and there’s a moment of tension as the men size each other up. Rigor’s face is granite, mirroring Matvei’s, but Ella saves us again by handing Matvei a drink.

“Here, take this,” she says. “Everyone just behave tonight, okay? This is supposed to be fun.”

“Drink with us, Abashin,” Viktor says, raising his glass. “And we’ll see if you can handle your liquor.”

Matvei downs his drink in one, holding eye contact with Viktor. “Careful, Milov, or you’ll end up on the floor.”

Tension sizzles until Viktor laughs. “He’s got balls, Anya, I’ll give him that.”

At the sound of my name, Matvei’s eyes flick back to mine. “Dance with me.”

I open my mouth, then shut it again, unable to find the words. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it, unable to resist him. I’ve never been able to. We walk onto the dance floor, and he holds me close, pulling me into the crowd and out of sight of my family.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” I say, looking up into his dark eyes.

He palms my lower back. “I owed you an apology, and I wanted to deliver it in person. I was harsh. I said things I didn’t mean because I was upset and frightened when you left. I’m sorry, princess.”

The apology leaves me speechless. It’s the last thing I was expecting from such a stubborn, hard-headed man, and I’m not sure he’s the one who owes an apology. I was the one who ran away again.

He goes on before I can think of what to say. “I asked your family to come. You were lonely. I thought it would help to have them all around you for a time, and that we might find a way to work out our differences.”

“You and me? Or the Abashins and the Milovs?” I wonder, knowing where his focus lies.

Matvei lifts my chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding my gaze. “You and me. There are some things more important than business.”

That was not the answer I was expecting, but I can see from his open face that it’s the truth. He’s not just trying to placate me. The man doesn’t have a placating bone in his body.

“You asked them to come?” I reply, not quite believing it. “And they listened?”

“They missed you, too.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “And I’m sure they wanted to see your new husband for themselves.”

I smile at that. It was almost certainly a motivating factor. “Do you think you can all get along?”

“I think for you, I’m willing to try.” He dips his head toward mine, lips just an inch from my own. “For you, princess, I’m willing to do anything.”

My heart swells with an undeniable truth. I love this man. Despite everything, despite ourselves, I’ve fallen for him with my whole soul. And it seems maybe, just maybe, he feels the same. Daring to hope, I close the space between us and kiss him.