Page 28

Bed rest might as well be a prison sentence.

It’s the best way to keep the baby safe, and it’s the doctor’s orders, but every day I wake and chafe against the restrictions.

At first, it almost sounds like a vacation.

Spending all day in bed watching junk TV and eating snacks?

Jackpot. After about three days of that, it suddenly feels like a nightmare.

The only relief I get is moving from the bed to the couch and, if the weather isn’t too hot, to the chaise outside on the deck. From there, I can at least throw the ball across the yard for the dogs. They bring it, tongues lolling, right back to my side so even Matvei can’t accuse me of overdoing.

He’s so careful with me now. Even more doting than he was during my morning sickness, which I didn’t imagine was possible. Thankfully, the worst of that has passed, and I’ve been left with just infrequent heartburn and the occasional strong need for a nap.

I wish he’d tell me more about the night he went to the Lankov house, but he’s been tight-lipped about it, something darkening in his eyes each time I bring it up.

Mostly, I’ve stopped asking. Probably I don’t want to know.

With me, he’s perfectly gentle, but I can imagine the brutality he’s capable of, the violence implied by his towering, muscled body.

I’ve given him a few days to recover from that, and now I’m steeling myself.

Bands of anxiety twist in my stomach that not even Zephir’s cuddles can ease.

Since I first felt sick, Matvei has kept me out of all Abashin business.

At the time, I was too distressed by how I felt to really rail against the restrictions, but now that I’m feeling better, I can feel the chains of a prison more restraining than bed rest closing around me.

Overprotectiveness. The same chains my brothers kept me in.

I won’t go back to it. There’s a reason that even being kidnapped by an Abashin felt like freedom compared to how my brothers treated me.

Their love was suffocating. They always thought they knew what was best for me.

Even now, I think it’s only my marriage to Matvei that keeps them from trying to control me again.

It seems like they respect him more than they ever respected me.

Maybe that’s too harsh. I know they love me. I know they were only trying to protect me from the very real horrors of the Bratva world. It was just completely unfair. I’m just as much an adult as they are.

“Good boy,” I say, taking the tennis ball back from Zephir. I fling it as hard as I can across the yard, a challenge given my reclined position, but I’m getting the hang of it.

He races against his siblings and takes the lead, snatching the ball out of the air in a feat of athleticism that makes me glad I’ve never gotten on their bad side. I’d hate to be a burglar at this house.

“What do you think?” I ask the dogs when they return, the nubs of their tails wagging back and forth. “Think it’s time to talk with Matvei? Or shall we put it off another day?”

“Talk with me about what?” Matvei says from behind me, startling me.

I drop the tennis ball and it rolls away beneath the other chaise. Zephir crawls beneath to grab it.

Matvei comes up and sets his hands on my shoulders, starting to rub the tension and knots from my back. I tilt my head backward for a kiss.

“How long have you been skulking around back there?” I ask him, leaning in to his touch. It’s surprising how sore one can get from sitting around doing nothing.

“Not long,” he says, a rare smile at the corners of his lips. “I was enjoying the view.”

I shake my head. I’m wearing linen shorts and a bikini top, soaking in the midday sun and enjoying the last few weeks of my clothes fitting like they should. “I’m not hungry yet. You made way too many pancakes for breakfast.”

Shielding my eyes from the sun, I watch Matvei as he comes to sit at the foot of my chair.

He hasn’t shaved for a few days, and the dark hair across his jaw makes him look even more devastatingly handsome.

Not to mention the way his shirt molds to his muscles.

For a moment, I forget exactly what I was planning to discuss with him.

“I’m feeding two now,” he reminds me, cupping my stomach with one of his huge hands. It’s one of his favorite things to do, and I know he can’t wait for the signs of my pregnancy to show. “How are you feeling? Anything to tell the doctor?”

“You know that eating for two thing is a myth, right?” I rub my thumb over the back of his hand and rest my head against the chaise, closing my eyes.

It’s hard to believe this is my real life.

A wife. A mother. Married to the man who kidnapped me and somehow sort of happy about it.

Nothing in my life has gone the way I’d imagined, but I wouldn’t change it.

Except this one thing. The restrictions.

The way he shut me out of all Abashin business.

I need him to know that I’m capable of handling this life, even while pregnant.

He can’t just shut me out every time he gets nervous.

I’m not a total monster; I do understand it a little bit.

It must have been terrifying when I was kidnapped, doubly so once he learned that I’m pregnant.

But I’ve been dealing with the people I love putting themselves in danger my entire life, and I’ve never tried to lock them in a box to keep them from it.

I spent the entire night Matvei was attacking the Lankovs awake, too anxious to sleep until I knew he was okay.

If I can do it, so can they.

“And I’m fine,” I say, answering his questions. “Nothing to report. I think she just wanted to give us a scare. She’s got a flair for the dramatic.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “She?”

“That’s what I think. I think we’ve got a little girl in here.”

He casts his eyes up to the sky. “Heaven help me, I’ll be outnumbered and you’re trouble enough as it is.”

“Would you prefer a little Matvei?” I tease. “Brooding around all day? He’ll never cry, only growl and give stern looks.”

Matvei shakes his head at me, giving me one of those stern looks. I see past them now, reading the tiny cues of his expression through the granite of his face. He’s amused. I can see it in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

“I have no preference,” he says, rubbing circles over my stomach. “Whoever they are, they’re perfect.”

“You’re a softie, Matvei. A total marshmallow. I should tell the world the truth about you.”

He laughs. “They’ll never believe it.”

“No,” I agree, “and I like it as my little secret. My marshmallow.”

“That nickname is not going to stick,” he warns, tilting his head at me in a way that makes my skin flush.

I challenge him with a mischievous smile. “If ‘princess’ sticks, it’s only fair.”

“Careful, princess. You’re not too pregnant to put over my knee.”

I slap him lightly on the arm. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His face sobers suddenly, and his hand stills. “Now, no more dancing around it. What were you going to tell me? I don’t care for secrets between us.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and look away, focusing on the dogs lying on their sides in the sun. Zephir bites lazily at the tennis ball, letting it roll a few inches away before snatching it up again.

“It’s about the family.”

“Our family?”

“The Bratva family. I don’t want to be shut out of it again. Kept away from everything important just because you’re afraid of putting me at risk. I won’t go back in that prison again.”

The words spill out of me unchecked, and I’m embarrassed by the sudden prickle of tears at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over in a heartbeat. This pregnancy has made me unusually emotional, and the moods come on quickly.

“Anya,” he begins, but I cut him off, needing to say it all before I lose my nerve.

“I am capable. I think I’ve proved that. We might be married, but if you try to—”

He holds up a hand to stop me. “I have no intention of keeping you from anything. You are my wife. The head of the Abashin family, at my side.”

“But you’ve been keeping me away from everything,” I insist, gripping the sides of the chair. “It’s just like with my brothers!”

His jaw tightens. “I admit I’ve been… nervous, since your kidnapping. You have to understand how afraid I was. How helpless I felt. I failed at keeping you safe.”

I watch his eyes shutter with something dark and murky and imagine him adding this guilt to the myriad of others inside of him. Family obligation hangs heavy on my husband, and the burning need to prove himself. He doesn’t need to shackle himself with this, too.

“But that is no excuse,” he goes on. “As I said, I have no desire to keep you from the Bratva life. It is your right, by birth and marriage, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve more than proven yourself capable.”

“So you’ll let me back in?” I say, then cringe at the words I chose. Let me. Like I need his permission. “I mean, I’m going to come back in.”

“You are,” he agrees. “Obviously not in any physical capacity,” he says, gesturing at my body from head to toe, and I sigh.

I didn’t expect anything else, but the reminder of my current situation is painful.

“But I have plenty for you to do that does not involve exertion. Oleg will be more than happy for the assistance, and you provide a unique perspective given your family.”

“You trust me.” I cradle the words like a treasure because I can see honesty written in every line of his face. He never meant to keep me from anything. He was just frightened.

“Completely. You are a marvel, princess. A force of nature. I would not stand in your way.” He leans forward and lets his forehead drop against mine. “I want you to be happy, more than anything else in the world. Happy and free.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Free. Finally free. To take part in the world that’s been denied me practically since birth. It feels like coming home. I blow out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, seized by an emotion so strong it makes me tremble.

It twists my tongue into knots, and all I can do is hold his gaze while his thumb strokes along my cheekbone.

“I love you, Anya,” he says, finding the words I couldn’t, and my heart threatens to beat its way out of my chest. “I had no idea I was waiting for you every day of my life before I met you. Before I stole you.”

The tears that I’ve managed to keep at bay until now spill over, and the kiss I press to his lips is salty and quivering. “Never let me go,” I say, cradling his face between my hands like this giant of a man is a priceless treasure, like he could break at any moment. “I love you.”

“Never,” he promises, swearing it like an oath for only our ears. “Never.”

God, I love this man. Life with him will never be easy, never simple, never safe. If I’d wanted that life, I could have married out of the Bratva life and settled down, but I know deep in my bones that I was made for him, made for this. And he was made for me.