Chapter Twelve
Nikolai
My estate has felt empty since the wedding ceremony.
It’s too big of a space for one person, sure, but that has never bothered me before. Something has changed.
I sit in the living room and scroll through my phone, replying to a few messages and emails.
I decided to give Lauren a few days to cool off. Blyad, I need it as much as she does. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have charged over there like a fucking bulldozer when she was probably shaken up about the pregnancy herself. She needs time to wrap her head around this just like I do.
She hasn’t contacted me, and I wager it has something to do with me riling her up the other night. Words can’t describe how badly I wanted those plump lips wrapped around my cock. I bet she would have knelt down and sorted me out if I had stayed a little longer.
I shouldn’t have teased her.
But it was fun.
The good news is, she doesn’t seem to be making any plans about aborting the baby. According to my intel, that is. One of our hackers managed to retrieve her latest online doctor records, and she hasn’t visited the office since she tested positive.
I’ve been keeping an eye on her though. She went to the gym yesterday. Apart from that and getting a latte from her local Starbucks this morning, she’s only been at work and at home, in her apartment. I can always step in if she does anything reckless, but so far, I haven’t had to.
Which is unlike her, but a surprise pregnancy changes things, I suppose.
I drop the phone and switch on the TV, hoping to take my mind off Lauren and her pregnancy.
I shouldn’t care if she wants to do this solo, but I do.
The thought of her carrying my child alone doesn’t sit right in my gut.
She can say whatever the fuck she wants, cast me out with that pretty little mouth of hers, but nothing will stop me from getting involved in my child’s life.
My phone buzzes, finally snapping me from my thoughts.
Timur.
I raise the device to my ear. “Bratok.”
“You were right. Something isn’t right about Lauren’s old man.”
I sit up straight, my grip tightening on the phone. “Charles? What have you found?”
“Well, looks like our dear old Charles Watson has been making quiet payments to shell companies. Regularly. The old man’s dirty like we suspected. The worst part is that all of the companies are directly linked to Aslanov.”
That gets my attention in an instant. Fucking knew it. There was always something sketchy about the old cunt.
“Meet me at Horizon in thirty.” I hang up before he can answer, springing from the couch to grab my jacket and keys.
Charles Watson using shell companies to make payments?
The pieces start clicking into place and the picture they’re forming makes my jaw clench.
Is he skimming accounts and filling his own pockets?
Or is he making payments to Aslanov for some reason?
What am I missing here? And how the hell is Lauren involved in all this?
One thing I know for certain—I don't believe in coincidences.
Lauren's mother—killed.
Charles tangled up in Aslanov's business somehow.
Lauren’s strained relationship with her old man.
Too many connections for comfort. Too many questions to be answered. But I won’t rest until I find out what connects the pieces.
The drive to Horizon gives me time to think, but not enough to settle the questions clawing at my mind.
Something is brewing under the surface and I don’t fucking like it.
I especially hate the fact that there are gaps in my knowledge.
What if Aslanov is a step ahead of me, already making moves against me and my empire?
Traffic moves at a crawl through the city center, each red light another moment for doubt to creep in. But by the time I pull into the familiar parking structure, my hands are steady again, my thoughts focused.
I have owned Horizon for many years now.
It was a rundown casino before I bought it, but with Timur’s help, we transformed it into a high-end club.
The expensive wine list and the fine cocktails attract only the most prestigious guests.
That was the plan from the get-go—to appeal to an upper-class demographic and make the place as luxurious as possible, and to conceal some of the big money moves that happen behind the scenes.
Today, Timur and I stay in the main room, each of us grabbing a glass of vodka from the bar.
We walk over to the VIP section and corner ourselves into a booth, away from the hustle and bustle.
It’s Friday night, so the place is teeming with people.
The low murmur of conversations and clinking glasses creates the perfect cover for business talk.
“You seem quiet tonight.” Timur adjusts his shirt—a white one, the top button undone. “What’s bothering you, boss?”
I down half my vodka before answering. “Lauren’s pregnant. It’s mine.”
His brows lift, surprise flickering across his features.
Clearly Sophia, even if Lauren told her, hasn’t passed on the news.
He doesn’t say anything—just shifts in his seat and looks away.
The silence stretches between us. He knows what I’m thinking, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.
That nothing good will come of this if Aslanov finds out.
“Congratulations… I guess? Is she keeping it?”
I rake a hand through my hair and take another gulp of vodka. “She’s more than three weeks in. She hasn’t booked an appointment for an abortion yet.”
Timur leans back, a knowing smirk crossing his face. “I take it she doesn’t want you involved in the kid’s life?”
I give him a side-eye. “Give her time.”
Timur sits forward, his expression turning serious as he watches me. “Co-parenting requires trust, Niko. She’s only going to let you in if she trusts you.”
I scoff. “All I’ve been trying to do is protect her. She has no reason not to trust me.”
“Protection is not the same as trust. Besides, what is protection to you is control to her. She thinks her father is controlling. The last thing she’s going to want is another man controlling her and her child.”
I stare at Timur over the rim of my glass, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. I didn’t see that coming. Then again, he’s my right-hand man for a reason—he cuts through my bullshit and sees what I can’t.
“I would give my child the world,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Not take it away from them by trying to control their life.”
“You don’t have to prove that to me, boss,” Timur replies, swirling the vodka in his glass. “But to Lauren, you’re just another criminal she can’t trust," he says, addressing the elephant in the room.
Blyad.
The words sting because they’re true. In her eyes, that’s all I am—a ruthless mobster who’s invaded her life and turned it upside down.
But Lauren’s trust is a luxury I can’t afford to wait for.
Because whether she trusts me or not, one thing is crystal clear. As long as her father’s tangled up in Aslanov’s business, and as long as she’s carrying my baby, she is in grave danger.
What started as a game has just become deadly serious.
Lauren can hate me all she wants. She can fight me every step of the way. But if I don’t step in now, she’s going to get herself killed. Just like her mother. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
Not to her.
Not to my child.