Chapter Twenty-Four
This pregnancy was the perfect excuse to wife her up without hesitation. I’d been thinking of ways to make her stay here permanent, and I achieved that goal without stressing, using the most valid reasons.
She clearly wasn’t okay with being the wife of the same man she claimed was responsible for her mental instability. The man she hated the most in this world. Perhaps I was selfish to want her for myself forever, damning her dreams and aspirations.
But beneath that selfishness were two valid reasons. One—I wanted our baby to be born into a proper family, with present parents to teach them the ways of the world. Two—if word got out that she was carrying my child, she would automatically become the next target of all my enemies.
As my wife, she was a part and parcel of me, and whatever affected her affected me. Whatever affected me affected the Bratva. My last name offered her protection beyond my jurisdiction. The Tarasov men had always protected their women from internal and external threats.
She now had the fierce loyalty and support of everyone affiliated with the family. That, in itself, was wholesome—a fact she had yet to understand and value. She might hate me now, but at some point in the future, when she came to terms with her new reality, she’d finally get it.
Maybe she was right. Maybe all of this was my fault. But making her mine was the best decision I could’ve made in that situation. I didn’t regret it. And I would never regret making her my wife.
Our child would be lucky to have her as a mother because she possessed all the qualities of a good parent. She was smart, compassionate, and kind, and she saw the world through a steadier lens than I did. She was the better half of me with a much bigger heart and a purer soul.
Aria was the light in my dark. She reminded me every now and then, by simply existing, that there was still a part of me that craved to be loved. She had no idea, but I would kill for her. I would burn the world if everyone ever turned against her.
She was my wife now, and it was my duty to protect her and the baby in her womb.
It had been a few days since we tied the knot, and she still wasn’t speaking to me. We shared the same room, slept on the same bed, but it felt like we were two strangers living together.
I figured she needed time to adjust, considering the emotional and psychological effect of her new reality. Besides the bedroom silence, though, she was settling in just fine. Against my better judgment, she made Yelena her friend, blurring the line between “boss lady” and “staff member.”
But I couldn’t exactly blame her; she had found a friend in the girl. Besides, Yelena knew better than to cross her boundaries. Aria now moved through the house with the confidence of a woman who owned it.
My men respected her the way they did me and never hesitated when she called. She seemed friendly with everyone in the house except me. And it was starting to feel a lot like punishment—one I couldn’t handle.
That evening, after returning from a meeting I was barely attentive at, I headed straight to our bedroom, eager to set my eyes on her. By the time I got there, she wasn’t in the room. I checked the library and even the garden outside, but she was nowhere to be found.
When I asked one of the maids, they told me she was up on the roof. That was the last place I’d expected her to be. Without hesitation, I headed up there, seven stories high.
She stood at the parapet when I arrived, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the yellow sun was setting. The hem of her dress danced in the cool evening breeze as the sun’s golden glow kissed her skin.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked without turning to look at me. “I think I found my favorite spot in the house.”
I walked over to her, slowly, unsure of what to say or do. She glanced at me as I stood beside her, her expression yet unreadable.
“How are you?” That was the first thing that came out of my mouth.
“My back hurts; my waist aches. I’m constantly battling with nausea. I’m easily irritated. My feet hurt, and my breasts are heavy all the time. And did I mention the headaches?” The words tumbled out of her in a smooth rush.
A quiet laugh fell from my mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is my condition funny to you?” Her lips pursed, as if suppressing a grin.
“No.” I faced her squarely. “It’s not. It sounds very serious.”
She squinted her eyes. “Rodion Tarasov, are you mocking me?”
“Never.” I took her hand reflexively, hoping she wouldn’t slide out of my hold.
She didn’t.
“How is he?” I asked, daring to place my hand on her belly.
Again, she didn’t push me or slap my hand off.
“What makes you think it’s a he?” Her eyes bore into mine.
“Just a hunch.” I shrugged my shoulders slightly, a small grin playing on my lips.
“Well, that’s not patriarchal at all,” she teased. “I bet it’s a she.”
“Even better,” I said. “I’ve always wanted a daughter, if I’m being honest.”
Her head snapped back, shock simmering beneath the surface. “Really? Don’t patronize me.”
“It’s the truth,” I replied. “I didn’t have a sister growing up, so I guess having a daughter would compensate for that.”
This was the first normal conversation we’d had since this whole saga, and it felt so good. The way she stared at me right now—like she was looking at a different version of the man who ruined her life—thawed something frozen inside of me.
We held each other’s gazes on that rooftop, bathed by the sun’s golden glow.
“Can I ask you something?” She held my gaze, her voice soft and tender.
I nodded, unsure of what she was about to spill.
“Do you think this can work?” She gestured between me and her. “Us. Do you truly believe we can work?”
“I believe anything’s possible.”
“That’s not a straightforward answer.”
I drew a deep breath. “I think whether we work or not is highly dependent on you.” A pause. “I know where I stand, Aria. I just don’t know where you stand.”
“I don’t either.” She exhaled sharply. “God, I wanna hate you—I wanna hate you so badly for what you did to me, for ruining my life and stealing my future.” Her voice was calm and composed, yet laced with venom.
“Aria…”
“Let me finish—” she cut me off. “I’m gonna try my best to be a good wife. I will smile in public; I will support you—I’ll do anything to keep our home.” She paused, her eyes boring into mine. “But I cannot guarantee you’ll have my heart.”
Something shattered inside me, weakening my knees.
“I’ll love our child. But I don’t think I can ever love you.”
Her words struck me like sharp arrows to the heart, and in that moment, something died inside me. I knew she was still hurting and might not mean what she just said, but it didn’t stop it from ripping my stone-cold heart to shreds.
I never knew what it was like to experience this kind of pain—heartbreak. And it hurt like fuckin’ hell.
When she pulled back and walked away without another word, my shoulders dropped as heat climbed up my body from my feet to my head. I thought the conversation was veering in the right direction. She smiled at me and was polite from the beginning, and I thought we had finally found common ground.
I was wrong.
I combed my fingers through my hair, thinking maybe she might never forgive me for how her life turned out. Perhaps I’d hurt her too deeply because of my selfishness. Perhaps I didn’t deserve redemption.
Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life? And if I did, how would I correct it? Because I couldn’t live like this with the one woman I wanted the most in the world.
“Are you falling for this girl?” Ilya’s voice echoed in my head. And I couldn’t help asking myself the same question.
Was I falling in love with the same woman whose dreams I’d shattered to pieces?