Chapter 43
MARIYA
Istare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, turning sideways to examine the slight swell of my belly beneath my favorite jeans. The button digs into my skin uncomfortably, and I sigh as I unzip them for the third time this morning.
"They don't fit anymore," I mutter, tugging the waistband down.
Sophia appears in the doorway of my bedroom, her dark eyes bright with excitement. "That's why we're going shopping! Come on, it'll be fun."
"Fun," I repeat flatly, pulling on a loose dress instead. "Buying maternity clothes is not my idea of fun."
"It could be worse." She grins, moving into the room to sit on the edge of my bed. "At least you're not buying them alone. I'll help you find cute stuff."
I appreciate her enthusiasm, even if I don't share it.
The truth is, I'm still coming to terms with being pregnant.
Some days, I wake up excited about the tiny life growing inside me, imagining what they'll look like, whether they'll have Andrey's blue eyes or my green ones.
Other days, the reality of bringing a child into this world terrifies me.
How do we protect a baby when our lives are built on violence and danger?
The question sits heavily in my chest as I finish getting ready. Sophia chatters about stores she wants to visit while I pull my hair into a ponytail and slip on comfortable shoes. By the time we head downstairs, she's already planned our entire route through the mall.
Andrey is waiting near the front entrance, his broad frame filling the doorway as he speaks quietly with two of his guards. His dark eyes find mine immediately, and something warm flickers in his expression.
"You're going shopping?" he asks, moving closer.
"Apparently." I gesture at my loose dress. "Nothing fits anymore."
His gaze drops to my belly, lingering there with an intensity that makes heat crawl up my neck. Then he steps forward and cups my face, his thumb brushing along my jaw. "Buy whatever you need."
He leans down and kisses me, slowly and possessively, his hand sliding to the small of my back. When he pulls away, his voice is low. "The guards stay with you. No arguments."
I roll my eyes but nod. I've learned to pick my battles, and this isn't one worth fighting. Andrey's protective instincts have only intensified since learning about the pregnancy, and honestly, I don't mind the security as much as I pretend to.
The drive to the mall is quick, Sophia filling the silence with commentary about everything from the weather to the latest drama among the household staff. I listen with half my attention, the other half focused on the guards following in the SUV behind us.
Inside the mall, the guards position themselves strategically. Close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough away that they're not hovering. I appreciate the space, even as I'm aware of their constant presence.
Sophia drags me into the first maternity store with infectious enthusiasm. Racks of clothes stretch before us, everything designed to accommodate growing bellies and changing bodies. I run my fingers over soft fabrics, trying to muster some excitement.
"This would look amazing on you," Sophia says, holding up a fitted dress in deep emerald green.
I take it from her, examining the stretchy material. "It's pretty."
"Try it on!"
We spend the next hour moving through the store, Sophia pulling items off racks while I try them on.
Some fit well, others don't, but slowly, a pile of acceptable options grows.
Jeans with elastic waistbands, soft sweaters that drape over my belly, and dresses that are cut to both flatter and accentuate the midsection.
I get clothes in different sizes to accommodate my belly as time goes on.
As I'm examining a pair of leggings, Sophia's voice turns quieter. "Have you heard from your father?"
The question catches me off guard. I set down the leggings and turn to face her. "No. Why?"
She shrugs, her fingers trailing over a rack of shirts. "Just wondering. My father hasn't contacted me since he disowned me."
The pain in her voice is subtle but unmistakable. I move closer, lowering my voice. "Does it bother you?"
"Sometimes." She meets my gaze, her dark eyes honest.
I reach out and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
We're quiet for a moment, both of us lost in thoughts about fathers and the complicated relationships we have with them.
We finish shopping and head to lunch at a small restaurant in the mall. The guards take a table nearby, their presence a constant reminder of the danger surrounding me, even if I can't see it. Sophia orders a salad while I go for pasta, my appetite finally returning after weeks of morning sickness.
"So," Sophia says, twirling her fork through lettuce. "Have you thought about names?"
I laugh. "It's too early for that."
"It's never too early! Come on, give me something."
We spend the rest of lunch debating baby names, Sophia suggesting increasingly ridiculous options until I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts. It feels good, this lightness. Like maybe everything will be okay.
When we return to the estate, shopping bags in hand, I immediately notice the chaos spilling from Andrey's office. The door is open, and I can see maps spread across his desk, ledgers stacked in piles, and several men crowded around the table.
Sophia glances at me, then heads toward the library without a word. I move closer to the office, curiosity pulling me forward.
Andrey looks up as I approach, and despite the tension in the room, his expression softens. He waves me inside, his dark eyes warm.
"How was shopping?" he asks.
"Productive." I set the bags down near the door and move closer to the desk. "What's all this?"
Matvey glances up from the map he's studying, his scarred face unreadable. The other men in the room shift slightly, making space for me.
Andrey's hand finds my waist, pulling me against his side. "We're going after Sophia's father."
I blink, processing his words. "What?"
"The bastard disowned his daughter." Andrey's voice is cold, edged with fury. "He doesn't get to walk away from that without consequences."
I look down at the documents spread across the desk. Property deeds, financial records, and business holdings. Everything connected to Sophia's father is laid out like a battle plan.
"You're taking everything," I say quietly.
"Everything," Andrey confirms. "By the time we're done, there won't be anything left for Sophia to inherit. Not that she'd want it."
Matvey's expression is grim but satisfied. "He made his choice. Now he pays for it."
I should probably feel something about this. Sympathy, maybe, or concern. But all I feel is a fierce satisfaction. Sophia deserves better than a father who would abandon her just because Andrey didn't want to marry her.
"Good," I say firmly.
Andrey's hand tightens on my waist, approval flickering in his dark eyes.
That night, after the men have left and the office is quiet again, Andrey finds me in our bedroom. I'm unpacking the shopping bags, hanging new clothes in the closet.
"Show me," he says, leaning against the doorframe.
I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Show you what?"
"What you bought." His gaze drops to the bags, then back to my face. "Model for me."
Heat floods through me at the suggestion. "You want a fashion show?"
"I want to see you in those clothes." He moves closer, his voice dropping. "All of them."
I bite my lip, fighting a smile. "Fine. But you have to sit and watch properly."
He settles into the chair near the window, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The position is deceptively relaxed, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his dark eyes track my every movement.
I start with the emerald dress Sophia picked out, slipping it on in the bathroom before stepping back into the bedroom. The fabric clings to my curves, stretching over my belly in a way that makes the pregnancy obvious, even though I have little more than a baby bump.
Andrey's gaze heats immediately. "Turn around."
I do, slowly, letting him see every angle. When I face him again, his jaw is tight.
"Next one," he says, his voice rough.
I laugh and return to the bathroom, pulling on a pair of fitted jeans and a soft sweater. This outfit is more casual and comfortable, but the way Andrey looks at me makes me feel anything but casual.
"Come here," he orders.
I move closer, stopping just in front of his chair. His hands find my hips, pulling me between his spread thighs. His thumbs brush over the swell of my belly, and something tender flickers in his expression.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs.
"I'm getting fat."
"You're carrying my child." His hands slide lower, gripping my ass. "That makes you fucking perfect."
Heat pools low in my belly as he pulls me down onto his lap. I straddle him, my knees pressing into the chair on either side of his hips. His cock is already hard beneath me, straining against his pants.
"I thought you wanted to see the rest of the clothes," I tease.
"Later." His mouth finds my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "Right now, I want you naked."
I don't argue. I pull the sweater over my head and toss it aside, then work the button of my jeans. Andrey helps, his hands impatient as he shoves the denim down my thighs. I kick them off, leaving me in just my bra and underwear.
His gaze rakes over me, hungry and possessive. "Fuck, Mariya."
I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it fall away. My breasts are fuller now, heavier, and Andrey's hands immediately cup them. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation.
"Sensitive?" he asks, his voice rough.
"Yes."
He leans forward and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Pleasure shoots straight to my core, and I rock against him, desperate for friction. His hands slide down to grip my hips, holding me still.
"Not yet," he murmurs against my skin.
"Andrey, please."
He pulls back, his dark eyes locked on mine. "Take off your underwear."
I stand on shaky legs and slide the fabric down, stepping out of it. When I move to straddle him again, he stops me.
"Turn around," he orders. "I want to watch you ride me."
Heat floods my face, but I obey. I turn and lower myself onto his lap, my back to his chest. His hands guide me, positioning his cock at my entrance. Then he pulls me down, filling me in one slow thrust.
I moan, my head falling back against his shoulder. The angle is deep, almost too much, and I have to breathe through the stretch.
"That's it," Andrey murmurs in my ear. "Take all of me."
His hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as I start to ride him. The position gives him control, and he uses it, setting a rhythm that has me gasping. One hand slides up to cup my breast while the other moves lower, fingers finding my clit.
"Andrey," I gasp, my body already trembling.
He growls in answer.
His fingers work my clit in tight circles, and the pleasure builds fast. When my orgasm hits, it's intense, my body clenching around him as waves of sensation roll through me. Andrey groans, his grip tightening as he drives up into me harder, chasing his own release.
When he comes, it's with a curse, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me. Finally, Andrey lifts me off him and carries me to the bed. He lays me down gently, his hands smoothing over my belly.
"You okay?" he asks.
"More than okay."
He settles beside me, pulling me against his chest. For a while, we just lie there in comfortable silence. But the question that's been haunting me all day finally surfaces, and I can't keep it inside anymore.
"Andrey," I say quietly. "I'm afraid."
His hand stills on my hip. "Of what?"
I turn to face him, my eyes searching his. "How do we protect a baby in this life? How do we keep them safe when everything around us is dangerous?"