Chapter 31
EVA
“Evgeny, I’m pregnant, not sick or dying,” Eva grumbles as I reach out to steady her while she sinks into the plush chair in my home office. “I can move just fine, and I can definitely sit in a chair by myself, thank you very much.”
She glares at me, and I’m certain if one arm weren’t in a sling, Eva would be crossing her arms to add to the glare. But I’ve come to know the set of her mouth, the way her jaw takes on a stubborn edge, and I know it would take a lot of pushing to win this argument.
Stubborn woman.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t have Eva any other way. Over the past months of missing her, and over the past twenty-four hours of revelations, the certainty of what I want has settled into the marrow of my bones.
It’s Eva.
And I want her as more than just the mother of my children or some kind of paramour. I want Eva by my side as my partner in life and in love for as long as she’ll have me.
When we return from the hospital, Alona has tea and sandwiches cut into triangles waiting for us at the chairs and a small table by the window overlooking the garden.
The woman must have known about Eva’s pregnancy, since I saw not a shred of surprise when I told her the news.
She only shrugged and returned to kneading her dough, haranguing me in rapid Russian about caring for a pregnant woman.
I’m not sure when she switched from my side to Eva’s, but here we are. And I’m not angry about it.
Eva pauses, her hand hovering over a sandwich wedge, and looks around, one corner of her mouth tipping up.
“What?” I ask, taking off my suit jacket and draping it over the back of my chair. My tie follows, then I undo a few buttons at the collar of my shirt.
“This is you,” Eva says, and she shifts in the plush chair.
As she dives into the sandwiches, ravenous, I look around the office I know so well I’ve stopped seeing it. Dark green walls, brass fixtures, teak furniture. Opulent, expensive, everything in its place.
Is that how Eva sees me?
We sit and drink our tea. Eva takes hers with a sugar cube and works through the sandwiches. After she’s eaten some, color returns to her cheeks. She doesn’t seem quite as stiff, and she looks far more at ease.
Since that moment in the hospital yesterday, my gaze keeps straying to the baby bump under her shirt. It’s still difficult to believe it’s there, to believe she’s carrying my children, our children. Plural. Eva’s hand also keeps straying to the rise, though I think the gesture is unconscious.
“Are you,” Uncharacteristically, I pause, wondering if I want to know the answer to my question or if I should ask Eva. Annoyance flares at the thought, and I forge on. “Are you pleased to be back?”
Eva presses her lips together. “I am,” she finally replies, her voice soft. “It’s peaceful here.”
Peaceful.
I know the word holds a lot. We’d stopped at her family’s place so Eva could see her sister, reassure her everything was okay, and pick up a few things.
I saw how her father wouldn’t look at her, felt his chilled silence and the pall over the home, and how Marco took Katie out just to get her away from it.
What had Eva dealt with those past two months in a house under a cloud of such utter devastation? Feeling her father’s cold fury and his silence, watching him unravel while she did her best to handle the early months of a twin pregnancy and keep the rest of her family together?
“Eva.”
I stand before she can lift the teacup to her lips again. Her beautiful brown eyes find mine, a quizzical crease between her brows.
“I want to show you something.”
Despite her earlier protest, Eva lets me help her up, proof she’s far more tired than she’s letting on.
A book on one of the shelves depresses with a click, and I push on the shelf to reveal a small room. Eva gasps in surprise.
“You have a secret room hidden behind a bookshelf?” she asks, tugging excitedly on my arm. “I always wanted one of those!”
On impulse, I pull Eva close and kiss the top of her head before leading her into the room. She draws another sharp breath, and her hand slackens in mine as she looks around the room and the treasures passed down to me or that I’ve collected, including Fabergé eggs and other creations.
I reach for one in particular resting on blue velvet, a brooch in the shape of a rose, like The Scarlet Flower. But unlike in the tale, this one glimmers with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds.
Eva doesn’t take the brooch immediately. Instead, she stares at it, then at me.
“Take it,” I urge, extending my hand to her, the brooch on my palm.
“I don’t even want to touch it,” Eva confesses. “That’s worth way more than I am.”
“Not true. This is worth thirty-six thousand dollars, one of only eighty flowers and fruits made by Fabergé. You,” I gently shift her hair behind one ear and caress her cheek “are worth all of them and more.”
A flush creeps over Eva’s face and travels up to her ears.
“You are worth everything,” I murmur. I bend my head and kiss her soundly before resting my forehead against hers. “I would give this all up in a heartbeat, Eva, for you. This is yours. All of it, everything that’s mine, is yours if you want it.”
Eva freezes against me, then pulls slowly back, searching my eyes. “You can’t mean that,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” I tighten my grip on her uninjured shoulder and hold her gaze to make sure she’s listening, to make sure she understands how serious I am.
“Like I told you in the hospital, I want you to stay with me, and not just for the children, but for me. For us. You can do whatever you want with the brooch, wear it, sell it, or never look at it again. You can sell everything in this room, and I won’t care because none of it matters without you here. ”
Eva remains silent until her eyes glimmer, a tear spilling down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb, but another takes its place.
“I realized how little everything means without your fire and your light and your laughter, Eva. Nothing matters as much without you by my side. Two months without you was agony. Please, be with me. Don’t just stay with me, but be with me, whatever that means to you.
Whatever it is, I’ll be happy as long as you’re here. ”
“You mean,” Eva licks her lips, swallows, and stutters her next words. “L-like marriage?”
I nod. “If that’s what you want.”
“I…” She stops again, swallows again. “I guess we’ll have to talk about it.”
Taking her good hand in mine, I kiss her knuckles. “Is that a yes?”
Eva laughs. The sound is high and slightly wild, but I see happiness shining in her eyes, too. “Yes. That’s a yes, whatever we decide it looks like. And I’ll treasure the brooch forever. No way in hell am I selling it.”
I laugh, and Eva joins me before we share a deep kiss that leaves us both breathless. I’m tempted to do more, especially after our extended time apart, but the color is starting to fade from Eva’s face again. She looks like she might wilt at any moment.
“I love you.” I murmur the words, and they feel right the second they leave my mouth.
“I love you, too.”
At Eva’s words, something profound, something in the farthest reaches of who I am, clicks into place and settles. The knowledge of my love for Eva and her place in my life and heart takes up permanent residence deep in the marrow of my bones.
“How about a shower and sleep?” I ask.
Eva rolls her eyes. “That sounds heavenly. But I don’t know how I’m going to do anything with this.” She gestures with her head toward her sling-bound arm, then winces in pain.
“I’ll help you if you’d like.” I kiss her forehead again, running my hand over her silky hair.
Eva bites her lower lip, then nods. “Okay.”
Once in my bathroom, I turn on the shower until steam fogs up the glass, then help her remove her clothes before undressing myself.
I wash her hair and her skin, careful to avoid the gashes and stitches, kissing the bruises gently as I help wash away the dried blood and pain from yesterday and all the days apart.
There is nothing sexual about it, only comfort for both of us, a pledge and confirmation of our feelings and the promise we’ve made to stay together.
I tuck Eva into our bed, stuffing pillows under her arm until she’s comfortable. Then I stay until she falls asleep.
I would stay longer, but a text from Dmitri has me ready to climb the walls by the time I find him.
Your office.
“What?”
Dmitri is waiting for me in my office with several other men, and the looks on their faces send a shiver of dread down my spine.
My second-in-command takes in my still-wet hair, the joggers, and T-shirt, and his mouth settles into a hard line. I’ve rarely seen such anger in his eyes, the cords in his neck standing out as if everything in him is clenched, taut as steel. The other men exchange glances.
“Are you going to tell me, or will I have to guess with a game of Charades?” I want to get back to Eva, and it makes me short-tempered.
“Pakhan,” one of them begins, then hesitates.
“Spit it out,” I snap.
“Evgeny. It’s…” Dmitri takes a deep breath. “It’s Vasya.”
A warning bell goes off in my head, instantly drowning the annoyance. “What about Vasya? Is he dead?”
Had Tsepov gotten to him? I would rip that bastard’s throat and heart out with my own hands if he—
“No, Evgeny.” Dmitri comes closer, puts his hand on my shoulder, and looks me in the eye.
“It’s Vasya, brother. One of the cops we’re paying traced the sale of the burner phone that kept calling Jordan, the one that texted him to meet at the warehouse, and from there found video footage of Vasya buying a phone around the same time. ”
I suck in a breath, my mind unable, unwilling, to grasp the implications. “It’s a coincidence.”
Dmitri shakes his head once, the look in his eyes regretful but hard.
“No, brother. It’s not. The bullets they pulled from Jordan’s body match his Glock 48.
The cop also pulled footage from Eva’s accident, and one of our guys found several videos online.
The car that hit Eva’s? It was Vasya’s. He never tried to brake. ”
The world freezes, grows cold and narrow and gray.
“No.” It wasn’t Vasya. I’m sure of it. There is no way the man who is as close to me as a brother would try to harm Eva and go so far as to kill her brother.
My Eva.
“Boss, I’m sorry.”
One of the men steps forward, holds out a tablet with information from the police officer on our payroll, and shows me the videos of Vasya buying the phone, the text messages he sent from it.
The videos and still images show a black Range Rover t-boning Eva’s car, sending it spinning across the intersection in images that make me nearly blind with rage.
And there, in an image from the camera at the intersection, moments before the Rover struck Eva’s car, is Vasya through his front windshield, his face a terrifying mask, his eyes on only one target.
The world shifts under me, cracks beneath my feet, and sends me tumbling into an abyss.
“Find him.” The words are a snarl in the back of my throat. “Find him and bring him to me. Don’t kill him. I will deal with him.”
“Yes, boss.”
The men file out quickly. Dmitri gives me one look, his jaw tightening, and leaves, pulling the door closed behind him.
My harsh breath is the only sound in the room, my shoulders heaving, my entire body clenched as tightly as my fists.
One of your men betrayed you.
I would watch your back because you never know who’s coming for it.
My roar of rage echoes through the room.