Chapter Twenty-three #2
I open the door.
“Merry Christmas!” Kylie practically shouts, throwing herself at me in a hug.
“Hello,” I say, stepping aside to let her in.
Her arms are stacked with gifts, bags, and an impressive amount of cake boxes. Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry. Enough sugar to put an entire city into a coma.
“Let me help you,” I offer.
She grins, handing everything over like she’s been waiting for that invitation. I take the boxes, at least ten of them, barely balancing the ridiculous tower as I head toward the kitchen.
That’s when a less pleasant voice cuts through the air.
“Move! I’m trying to get all of these inside the house!”
Sienna.
I pause just long enough to stop myself from launching a strawberry cake at her head.
“What a pleasure, Sienna,” I say dryly, smirking.
She scoffs, predictably unimpressed.
I’ve officially given up on trying to make her like me.
“Do you need help with the cake boxes?” Clara asks softly.
I turn to her and offer a genuine smile. “No, thank you. Come inside, Clara.”
I’m careful with her. Always. Guilt settles in my chest every time I look at her. I can’t stop blaming myself for the way she unraveled, even if I know it isn’t that simple. She looks better today. Still too thin, still dark circles under her eyes, but sober. Present. Trying.
That counts for something.
I place everything on the kitchen table just as Kylie announces their arrival like we’re in a stadium.
“We’re hereeee!”
“I’m coming!” Serena’s voice answers from upstairs.
I gather the rest of the gifts and load them into the back of my black G-Wagon. Yes, I bought one. After mocking Lev and Andres for years. Turns out practicality wins when you’re transporting half a bakery.
When I step back inside, the dogs are waiting in the kitchen.
I stare at them.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “What are you wearing?”
They wag their tails like they’ve committed no crime.
Pancake is dressed in a Christmas outfit that proudly reads Santa’s Little Helper, complete with a tiny hat tilted between his ears. Milkshake, on the other hand, is wearing a Grinch jumper, which suits his personality disturbingly well.
And then she appears.
Serena steps into the room, and the world recalibrates around her.
She’s wearing red. Not soft red. Not subtle red. A bold, unapologetic crimson that clings to her body like it was designed with worship in mind. The fabric hugs her curves, her pregnant belly pronounced and beautiful, the slit revealing just enough leg to make breathing optional.
Her long blonde hair falls in loose curls down her back, catching the light every time she moves. Her makeup is understated, nude and clean, except for her lips. Red. The kind of red that promises ruin.
She looks radiant. Powerful. Untouchable.
And mine.
“You look gorgeous!” Kylie tells her.
Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Serena looks divine. Calling her gorgeous feels like an insult to whatever higher power decided to make her look like this today.
There is something almost unreal about her, like she stepped out of a painting meant to ruin men.
The red dress, the way it embraces her body, the confidence mixed with softness, the life growing inside her.
She looks powerful. She looks untouchable.
And suddenly, for the first time since this idea formed in my head, doubt crawls up my spine.
Did I make the right decision bringing her to the Volkov house? Introducing her to everyone at once, on a night that will involve business, alliances, and words spoken in low voices with consequences attached to them.
Serena smiles softly. “Thank you,” she says, her voice warm. “You girls are all beautiful. I love your outfits.” She leans in and kisses each of them on the cheek, effortless and sincere, like she belongs everywhere she stands.
Kylie immediately abandons the conversation the moment she spots the dogs.
“Oh my God! Look at these little guys!”
She drops to her knees in front of Pancake and Milkshake, and Pancake, traitor that he is, immediately starts licking her face like she’s the greatest gift Christmas ever delivered. Milkshake stands there smugly, tail wagging, clearly pleased with the attention.
Serena walks straight toward me then.
She stops in front of me, suddenly shy, her fingers fidgeting slightly at her side. That single, small gesture hits me harder than anything else tonight.
“Shall we go?” she asks softly.
I forget how to fucking speak.
For a split second, I seriously consider canceling everything. Locking the doors. Keeping her here where I can control every variable. Where no one gets to look at her, judge her, or imagine what they would do if she weren’t mine.
But I can’t.
“Yes,” I manage to say, my voice lower than intended.
The girls start gathering their things, laughing, trying to fit themselves into Kylie’s Tesla. Of course she drives a Tesla. Nothing about that surprises me.
I open the back door of my car and gesture to the dogs. “Come on.”
Pancake jumps in first, tail wagging furiously, Milkshake following with the attitude of someone doing me a favor. They settle in the back like they own the place.
As I close the door and walk around the car, the weight settles back on my shoulders.