Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dante
That bullet nearly killed me.
The doctor pulled two rounds out of my back, dragged me back from death's door right there on the operating table. Then I spent three solid months flat on my back before the wounds finally healed.
But the day I got out? That was the darkest day of my life. Because the day I was discharged, Nikolai took Natasha home.
The old bastard had always bent to my will. But this time, he grew a spine. He said Natasha was his daughter. Said he'd make up for all those lost years. And before she agreed otherwise, no one was taking her from his house.
I wanted to tear his mansion apart brick by brick.
But I didn't.
I lay there in bed, jaw clenched, thinking—fine. Natasha had lived twenty-some years without a kind word from him, without a shred of his love. If he'd finally woken up, finally decided to treat her like a daughter, maybe that wasn't the worst thing for her.
I could take it. For her, I could take anything.
Still... it was killing me.
During recovery, Natasha came to see me a few times.
Each visit, she kept her distance—close enough to be polite, far enough to stay safe.
She'd ask how I felt, if I was in pain, and remind me to take my meds.
But the second I tried to bring up us, she'd change the subject or find an excuse to leave.
I knew what she was afraid of.
I hadn't forgotten a damn thing I'd done.
I'd locked her in the flower room and left her freezing all night.
I'd humiliated her in front of everyone.
I'd held another woman and called Natasha a substitute...
I'd carved holes in her heart with my own hands.
Those wounds were still bleeding. How could she forgive me? How could she let me close?
Time alone wouldn't fix this.
Thankfully, my mother stepped in.
Katerina—the woman who'd ruled the underworld her whole life, the only person who could control me and loved me most. She couldn't stand watching me waste away. A few days ago, she sent Natasha an invitation to come see the flowers at the manor.
Natasha said yes.
So now I stood on the Manor's front steps, waiting.
I, Dante Romanov, twenty-eight years old, had never been this nervous in my life.
I'd changed clothes three times. I'd ordered every flower on the grounds re-arranged. I paced back and forth, rehearsing my opening line at least twenty times. A man who controlled half of New York, reduced to this—nervous as hell over one woman.
When the car pulled up to the Manor gates, my heart seized.
The door opened. Natasha stepped out slowly, one hand on her lower back.
Three months. I hadn't seen her in three months.
Her belly curved out, round and full. She looked softer, her color healthier than before. But those green eyes still held that same guarded wariness.
Our eyes met mid-air.
Every one of those twenty rehearsed lines vanished.
Before I could move, Katerina swept forward.
"Natasha, you're finally here." Katerina took her hands, looking her up and down with a smile I hadn't seen in years—genuine warmth. "How are you feeling?"
"Katerina." Natasha softened slightly under her touch. "I'm good."
"I've planted some new rose varieties." My mother studied Natasha with satisfaction, speaking in tones of warmth she'd never used with me. As she turned, she shot me a pointed look. "Dante, take Natasha to the greenhouse. It's warm there. Better for the baby."
She'd set the stage. The rest was on me.
I stepped forward and took Natasha's arm. She stiffened but didn't pull away.
"Watch the step," I said. My voice came out tight.
I guided her through the gardens toward the greenhouse. One by one, the staff melted away. By the time we entered the glass house and closed the door, we were alone.
I helped her settle into the cushioned chair in the center of the room.
Neither of us spoke.
The vast glass room was so quiet I could hear water running through the heating pipes.
I stood before her, hands useless at my sides.
I'd negotiated million-dollar deals without blinking, demanded terms and prices stone-faced.
But now, facing this woman with her swollen belly and downcast eyes, I couldn't string two words together.
"How are you feeling?" I finally managed. "You and the baby, I mean."
"Fine." She kept her head down, hand resting lightly on her stomach. "The doctor says everything's developing well."
"That's good." I nodded.
More silence.
"Are you settling in okay? At your father's?" I tried again. "If you need anything, just tell me."
"I don't need anything." Natasha shook her head. "Nikolai... he's been good to me."
"Good."
Christ, I'd said "good."
I had a thousand things to say to her. They were all jammed in my throat, refusing to come out. This small talk could drag on until nightfall.
Enough, Dante.
I took a deep breath. I knew if I kept stalling, today would end like all the others. I couldn't lose her again.
I looked around the room.
Flowers bloomed everywhere. The heating warmed the greenhouse to a cozy temperature.
But I knew where we were.
This was the greenhouse. The one where I'd locked her in, left her shivering through a frozen, rainy night. I'd stood outside the window watching her. Then I'd walked away.
Bringing her here wasn't random.
"Natasha," I spoke. "Remember this place?"
She followed my gaze. Her face changed. Of course she remembered.
"I brought you here because I want to tell you something," I said, pulling in a breath. "Every single thing I did to hurt you—I haven't forgotten one."
"Our wedding day, I humiliated you without even listening.
I locked you in this greenhouse and watched you freeze all night, then walked away.
I ignored you and degraded you with ugly words.
Right in front of you, I held Vera and called you a substitute.
" Each word cut. "I know I pushed you away with my own hands. "
"I have no right to ask you to forget." I met her eyes. "I just want to ask one thing—Natasha, can you give me one more chance?"
Natasha said nothing.
She just looked at me as her eyes slowly reddened, tears sliding silently down to land on her rounded belly.
After a long time, she finally spoke, her voice trembling.
"I don't know, Dante." She shook her head. "I can't lie to you or to myself—I still love you. But..."
She pressed a hand to her chest.
"But I'm scared."
I didn't say another word.
Right in front of her, I hitched up my pants and dropped to one knee.
The floor was hard. It jarred my barely-healed leg with dull pain. But compared to the last three months without her, this pain was nothing.
Natasha startled. "Dante, what are you doing?"
"Just let me finish." I looked up at her. "Natasha, I've already talked it through with my mother. Every asset the Romanov family owns, all the power—I'm transferring it to you and the child."
Her eyes went wide.
"From now on, you're the true mistress of this manor." My words were deliberate, solemn. "Everyone here answers to you. No one can ever force you out this door again—including me."
I paused.
"In fact," I said, "if someday I screw up again, if I make you cry—you can throw me out anytime."
Natasha was completely stunned.
She'd never imagined that I, Dante Romanov—a man who valued power and territory more than life—would hand everything over to her. Including myself.
"Why... why would you go this far?" Her voice shook.
"Because I'm an idiot." I looked at her, speaking the truth for once. "All my life, I only learned how to talk with my fists and my gun. I don't know how to sweet-talk. I can't say pretty words. Hell, I couldn't even say I love you until I was almost dead."
I gave a self-mocking laugh.
"I don't have any other way to make you believe me. All I can do is lay everything I have in front of you and tell you—I'm serious."
From my inside pocket, I pulled out the ring.
The diamond she'd taken off and thrown back at me. I'd carried it with me these past months.
I held it up to her.
"Natasha, give me a chance," I said. "Let me spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Let me protect you, protect our child. This time, I swear you won't suffer again."
The greenhouse held only the sound of our breathing.
Natasha looked at the ring, then at me kneeling before her. More tears fell as her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Those few seconds were the longest I'd ever waited.
Then finally, so softly, she nodded.
"Okay," she said.
Just one word.
My head rang. I surged up instantly, ignoring the ache still lingering in my back, and pulled her—belly and all—into my arms.
I bent down and kissed her tear-stained mouth.
Deep and desperate. Natasha was dazed at first, but soon melted, reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck, kissing me back.
My hand slipped under her clothes. Pregnancy had made her body hypersensitive—the moment my fingers touched her, she trembled, a soft whimper escaping her throat.
That sound made my whole body tighten. I nearly lost control.
I eased her carefully onto the greenhouse's padded bench, avoiding her belly, kissing down from her jaw.
But when my hand moved toward her skirt, Natasha went rigid. She pressed against my chest, pushing me back in flustered panic.
"Dante—" Her cheeks burned crimson, her voice coming out in a panicked rush. "I-I look like this now; my belly's huge. Don't... please don't—"
"Shh." I leaned close, coaxing her softly, kissing her heated earlobe. "Don't be scared. I won't go inside."
She froze.
"I just..." My voice came out hoarse, forehead pressed to hers. "I just want to touch you. Let me touch you. Let me make sure you're real, that you're actually here with me right now."
I could feel my own hands shaking.
"God, Natasha." I closed my eyes, throat tight, unable to suppress the tremor of having her back. "You're finally... you're finally mine again."
She stopped pushing. Her eyes were wet as she touched my face, giving the softest "yeah."
My hand moved back under her skirt, finding her most intimate place.
She was way wetter than I'd expected. My heart lurched. I froze.
No.
That wasn't right.
At the same instant, Natasha went rigid. Her eyes flew wide, face draining white as she grabbed my arm.
"Dante..." Her voice shook apart. "Something's wrong. I think... I'm going into labor..."
I pushed up, glancing down fast.
Beneath her skirt, the fluid still flowing—now threaded with dark red streaks of blood.
In that instant, all the blood in my body went cold.