Chapter 44
ANDREY
Mariya's body is still trembling slightly against mine, her breathing uneven as the weight of her confession settles between us.
I hold her closer, my hand sliding up and down her spine in slow, soothing strokes.
The fear in her voice when she told me about the pregnancy cut deeper than any blade ever could.
"Our child will be protected," I say firmly, my lips brushing against her temple. "I promise you that."
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her dark eyes searching mine. "How can you be sure?"
"Because I'll make it sure." I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears still clinging to her lashes. "I'll hire the best guards. Former Spetsnaz, men who've protected heads of state. Our child will have a security detail that makes the president's look amateur."
A small, shaky laugh escapes her. "That seems excessive."
"Nothing is excessive when it comes to protecting what's mine.
" I lean down and kiss her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth.
"I'll update the entire estate's security system.
New cameras, motion sensors, and reinforced perimeter fencing.
I'll turn this place into a fucking fortress if I have to. "
Mariya's hands slide up my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt. "You really mean that."
"Every word." I pull her back against me, needing to feel her warmth, her heartbeat steady against mine. "No one will touch you or our baby. I don't care who they are or what connections they have. They'll have to go through me first."
She's quiet for a moment, her breath warm against my neck. Then she whispers, "I'm scared, Andrey."
"I know." I tighten my arms around her. "But you're not alone in this. You have me. You have Matvey and Sophia. You have the entire fucking family to protect you and the baby."
We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other as the night deepens around us. Eventually, I feel her body relax, the tension slowly draining from her muscles.
"Sleep," I murmur, brushing her hair back from her face. "I'll be right here."
She catches my hand before I can pull away. "Promise?"
"Always."
I strip down to my boxers and slide into bed beside her, pulling her back against my chest. My hand settles over her slightly rounded stomach, protective and possessive.
The thought of our child growing inside her fills me with something fierce and primal.
This is mine. She is mine. And I'll burn the world down before I let anyone threaten them.
Mariya's breathing evens out gradually, her body going soft and pliant in my arms. I press a kiss to her shoulder and close my eyes, letting sleep pull me under.
The next morning, I wake before dawn with Mariya still curled against me. I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb her, and head to the shower. The hot water helps clear my head as I run through everything I need to do today.
First priority is checking out Bogdan's property with the gold key. If we can figure out what the hell he's hiding there, we might finally get some answers about who's pulling the strings in this mess.
By the time I'm dressed and heading downstairs, Matvey is already in the kitchen with coffee brewing. He looks up when I enter, his expression serious.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Yeah." I pour myself a cup and drink it black, the bitter heat grounding me. "Let's see what Bogdan's been hiding."
The drive to Bogdan's property takes about forty minutes. It's located on the outskirts of the city, far enough from civilization that you wouldn't stumble across it by accident. As we approach, I understand why he chose this location.
The property sits in the middle of an open field, completely exposed on all sides. A single brick building stands at the center, squat and utilitarian. But what catches my attention is the security.
An electric fence surrounds the entire perimeter, the kind that would fry anyone stupid enough to touch it. Guard towers are positioned at each corner, manned by armed men who track our approach with rifles. More guards patrol the fence line, their movements coordinated and professional.
"Fuck," Matvey mutters beside me. "It's protected like Fort Knox."
He's not wrong. I count at least a dozen guards visible from here, and there are probably more inside the building. Whatever Bogdan is protecting, it's valuable enough to warrant this level of security.
I slow the car as we get closer, keeping my movements casual. The last thing we need is to spook these guys into opening fire. One of the guards near the gate steps forward, his hand resting on his weapon.
"This is private property," he calls out in Russian. "Turn around."
I stop the car but don't reverse. "We're just looking around."
"Then look somewhere else." His tone leaves no room for negotiation.
Matvey leans forward slightly, studying the building through the windshield. "There's no way we're getting in there with just the two of us."
"No," I agree, my jaw tight with frustration. "We'd need a small army to breach that security."
The guard takes a step closer, his expression hardening. "I said turn around."
I put the car in reverse and back away slowly, keeping my eyes on the property. The guards watch us until we're well clear of the fence line, their weapons never lowering.
Once we're back on the main road, Matvey exhales sharply. "So, what now?"
"Now we figure out another way in." I grip the steering wheel tighter. "That key opens something in there. We just need to find out what without getting ourselves killed in the process."
The drive back to the estate is quiet, both of us lost in thought. By the time we pull through the gates, it's mid-morning and the sun is bright overhead.
I head inside, intending to go straight to my office and start planning our next move. But as I pass the living room, I hear laughter. Bright, genuine laughter that makes me pause.
I change direction and walk toward the sound. When I reach the doorway, I stop.
Mariya and Sophia are sitting together on the couch, both of them laughing so hard that Sophia has tears streaming down her face. Mariya's hand is pressed to her stomach, her whole body shaking with mirth.
"I can't believe you actually did that," Sophia gasps between laughs.
"I had to!" Mariya wipes at her eyes. "He was being so stubborn about it."
They dissolve into laughter again, and something warm spreads through my chest. I lean against the doorframe, just watching them. Mariya looks so different like this. Relaxed. Happy. The fear and tension from last night are gone, replaced by genuine joy.
She hasn't had this. Not as an adult. She didn't have friends, didn't have anyone she could just be herself with. Seeing her now, building a real friendship with Sophia, makes me realize how much she's been missing.
It's good for both of them. Sophia needs this too. Someone she can trust.
Mariya notices me first. Her laughter fades into a warm smile, her dark eyes bright. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." I push off the doorframe and walk into the room. "What's so funny?"
Sophia grins. "Mariya was just telling me about the time she convinced you to try cooking."
I raise an eyebrow. "That's classified information."
"Too late." Mariya's smile widens. "I already told her about the smoke alarm incident."
"Traitor," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
I settle into the chair across from them, letting their easy conversation wash over me. They talk about everything and nothing. Books they've read and places they want to visit. The kind of things Mariya deserves to have in her life.
After a while, I stand. "I need to get some work done. You two keep plotting against me."
Mariya's smile softens. "We would never."
"Liar." I lean down and kiss her forehead. "I'll be in my office if you need me."
She catches my hand briefly, squeezing it. A silent thank you for giving her this space, this friendship. I squeeze back and head down the hall.
My office is quiet when I enter, the afternoon light streaming through the windows. I settle behind my desk and pull out the files we've been compiling on Bogdan's associates, trying to find a weak point we can exploit.
I'm deep in the documents when my phone rings.
Unknown number.
My jaw tightens. I've had enough of these calls. But something makes me answer anyway.
"Yes?"
"Andrey Melnikov." The voice is male, older, with an accent I recognize immediately.
My entire body goes rigid. "Yegor Pushkin."
Mariya's father.
"I've given you all the clues I could," he says, his tone sharp with impatience. "When are you going to do something about it?"